Arms-Commander

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “The cooking for the guards is better. The Lornian armsmen have stopped watching us, and they even drill and practice at times. Our guards have no trouble in the town, but they are always in threes. They have caused no problems. Dealdron and Daryn have built two supply wagons from the unused parts and planks and timbers in the storeroom. You could take one of them to carry more rations and grain for the horses. It would not slow you.”

  “I didn’t think there were that many spare parts around,” replied Saryn. “Nor decent wood and timbers.”

  “Dealdron traded for some of the wood. They found some parts. Daryn forged some. They are very good wagons.”

  “What about blades?”

  “We have enough short swords for each recruit to have one, sometimes two. Daryn is working on a second blade for each of the others.”

  Saryn would have liked more of the shorter blades, but that had always been a problem, even in Westwind. “Check the blades we captured. See if any are short enough to be used as a second blade.”

  “I did, ser. There were eleven.”

  Saryn nodded. “How hard are you pressing the new recruits?”

  “Some of them cried at first. I had the older guards talk to them. They are better now. Before long, most will be able to hold against armsmen for a short time. Some are already better than that. Shalya said that Yulia kept the second squad doing their exercises. They look stronger.”

  They’ll have to be. “She worked them hard, but I need you to reform second squad,” Saryn said.

  “With ten of the best recruits from third squad?” asked Hryessa. “I had thought you might. And you need one replacement in first squad.”

  “I do, but I’m going to take fourth squad and second squad to Tryenda. First squad could use a break. It could be the last one they get for a while. Can you get fourth and second squads ready to leave by noon?”

  “They will be ready the glass before midday. With a supply wagon.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Saryn couldn’t help grinning. “Oh…I’ll be going over to the Square Platter in a bit, after I talk to Dealdron.”

  “You should talk to him, Commander. I will have three guards waiting.”

  “I should? Why?”

  “Because he is a man who would do anything for you, and there are few of them. He also can do many things.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned and headed down the steps.

  She had barely entered the stable when she saw Dealdron leading a saddled horse—not her gelding—in her direction. She waited until he neared and stopped.

  “Hryessa told me that you and Daryn built some wagons.”

  “You will need them. You cannot travel through unfriendly holdings without more supplies, and if all the rebel lords ride on Lornth to attack the palace, you do not have the tools to defend it. So you will need wagons if we must leave.” Dealdron smiled. “Also, with all the weapons you have captured, we will need to build another one.”

  “Daryn needs to forge more blades, not build wagons.”

  “He only does a little. The new guards help me, and I am training some of them to be teamsters.” He paused and inclined his head toward the horse whose reins he held. “I have saddled one of the strongest mares for you. She is better than any of the other horses.”

  “How did you know I was riding anywhere?”

  He shrugged. “It seemed that you would. The gelding should rest. So should you, but you will not. You are like the great winds that never stop.”

  Saryn doubted his words were a compliment. “What have you heard that I should know?”

  “The Lornian armsmen are worried. Some have left.”

  “They’ve deserted?”

  “Only a few. The undercaptain is pressing them to spar and drill more, but they are less than pleased. The taverns are charging half a copper more for ale, and the harvests are coming in earlier this year because the summer was hotter and drier.”

  Earlier harvests mean it will be sooner rather than later when the rebels can raise more troops. “Anything else?”

  “We have added another sheath to your saddle, on the right side. You can carry four blades.” Dealdron paused. “I heard that you were left without a blade.”

  “Thank you.” What else could she say? The words weren’t offered in the puppy-dog fashion of a boy trying to curry favor, nor were they strictly matter-of-fact. Dealdron was deeply worried that she might not have the weapons she needed.

  He extended the mare’s reins, and she took them. “Will it be all right to take the gelding later today?”

  “The mare would be better. She is almost as strong, and the gelding should be reshod and rested.”

  “Then I’ll take the mare.” Saryn swung up into the saddle of the mare, then turned her toward the three guards riding toward her. She recognized only one of the three, the one with a dressing across her forearm. “Feyla, how is the arm?”

  “Almost healed.”

  Saryn could sense that, as well as the fact that her arm held none of the whitish chaos suggesting infection.

  “Commander, ser,” Feyla said quickly, “Duena and Shayni are with third squad.”

  “It’s good to see you. Captain Hryessa told you I’m headed to the Square Platter?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “It shouldn’t take long.” Saryn urged her mount forward.

  The three others followed.

  The armsmen at the gates glanced at the four riders approaching, then immediately began to slide the ancient and heavy iron bolts away before opening the gates. Two of them glanced toward the shapely Duena, then looked away quickly when they saw Saryn’s eyes on them. As she rode through the gate, her senses allowed her to pick up parts of the murmured conversation

  “…that one’s a tyrant…pin you to the wall with that short blade as soon as look at you…saw what she did out on the green…colder than…”

  “…bitches often the beautiful ones…You wonder what…”

  “Don’t even think about it…”

  Saryn managed not to turn back and glare. Men… Except there were some who weren’t that way. The engineer hadn’t been. Neither, she reflected, was Daryn, although that might have been as much Hryessa’s doing as anything. And Dealdron…had he always been that way and unable to show it? Or had he changed because she’d encouraged him? Had Istril and Siret seen that? Or even more? She pushed that thought away. There was no point in even considering such, not at the moment.

  As she guided the mare around the green, then onto the avenue leading to the square, she concentrated on what she wanted to learn from Haelora. When the four turned onto the narrow street off the square and headed toward the inn, a squat, bearded man standing in front of what might have been a rundown joinery looked hard at Saryn and started to open his mouth.

  She could sense the anger, and said firmly, “Not a word. The Lady Regent’s better than you deserve.”

  The man stepped back, his face turning livid, his mouth working silently.

  As soon as she had spoken, Saryn wondered whether she should have said anything at all. But then, she was tired, and getting even more weary of people, men especially, suggesting in so many ways that they didn’t like women with any sort of power or authority—as if the men in Lornth had done such a wonderful job at anything except fomenting dissension.

  The streets weren’t any more deserted than they’d been on oneday, but they certainly weren’t any more crowded, either, and the few she saw were those in common working garb. When they reached the Square Platter, the front porch was empty, but Saryn caught sight of Haelora through the front window of the public room just before she reined up. She dismounted and handed the reins to Shayni, then hurried into the inn.

  Vanadyl, standing near the doorway with a pail in his hand, gestured to the public room.

  “Thank you,” Saryn said politely, making her way through the archway and walking to the right front table, where Haelora was seated with a ledger before her. �
�Greetings.”

  The innkeeper bowed her head but did not rise. “Honored Commander.”

  Saryn took the chair across from her. “Have we done something else to displease the people of Lornth?”

  Haelora frowned, then spoke, quietly closing the ledger. “You’ve got ’em worried. Most think that the lord-holders fighting with each other and the regent…well…it wouldn’t have happened ifn you hadn’t come. The men, they’re getting afraid that Westwind will ride down and take over. Some of the women are pleased. Most fear that, if things get worse, they’ll get blamed, and their consorts will beat them. Even those who won’t get beaten worry about what their menfolk think.”

  Why do they fret about what their consorts think? Most men here put what they want first…and then think about the women around them later…if they even bother to consider them at all. Saryn managed to nod, reminding herself that the women of Lornth didn’t have the choices or opportunities that she’d had. Or the training. But she and Ryba and Hryessa were changing that. They had to. “Have you heard anything about the other lord-holders?”

  Haelora glanced toward the archway behind Saryn, then lowered her voice. “Lord Kelthyn’s agents were skulking around here last eightday, looking for armsmen with experience.”

  “How do people feel about that?”

  “So long as the lords don’t hurt them, they don’t care that much. They just want to get in their harvests. Some hope that the fighting will make their crops more dear. Those are the young crofters. The older growers and sharecroppers only want to stay out of the way. Some would like to send their daughters to relatives…but no one knows what will happen where. They’re all just waiting, biding their time. Hoping, mostly.”

  “And you?”

  “We open the public room to anyone and hope what we make will pay for what damages follow. We serve honest lager and ale to the armsmen, but not the most costly. And we only use the chipped and cheap mugs for them.”

  “We all do what we have to.”

  Haelora nodded. “What else is there?”

  I’d like there to be more to life than that, but will that ever be possible here? “When I was riding west toward Nuelda, we stayed in an old house that the herder said was Cyadoran. Was this part of Lornth once part of Cyador?”

  “For a short time, in the days of Lorn and Kerial. There are a few dwellings here that old, but they are not like they were then.”

  “The herder said that none of the women in his family would enter the dwelling, that they believed demons still lived there.”

  Haelora laughed. “The only demons were the Cyadorans. Harsh as the men of Lornth can be, they are kind compared to the old ones of Cyad, that ancient capital.”

  That was about what Saryn suspected. She rose. “Thank you.” She couldn’t say that she’d learned that much, except that Kelthyn had been recruiting. That scarcely surprised her.

  “You are always welcome here, Commander,” replied Haelora.

  Saryn could sense regret, almost sadness, as if Haelora did not think much of Saryn’s prospects. “I will be back.” She offered a grin. “I could not say when, though.”

  “I will look forward to that.” Haelora stood. “Take care.”

  “You, also.” Saryn inclined her head, then turned and departed.

  She was back at the palace close to two glasses before noon, and it only took her a quarter glass to gather and pack her gear before heading out into the courtyard. Dealdron was waiting with the mare. She thought he might offer to fasten her saddlebags and gear in place, but he only held the mare while she did.

  He did not speak until she finished. “I will tether her in the shade for now, while you do what you must. I will be checking the wagon harnesses.” He smiled.

  “Thank you.”

  As she turned to walk toward Hryessa, she could feel his eyes on her back and sense his feelings—a sense of wistfulness, along with clear admiration—and nothing lustful or lecherous.

  Admiration…after what he’d seen her do to his fellow Gallosians? Yes, she’d spared him, but that was because he’d been unlike the others, and every eightday since, he’d proved her initial assessment. But admiration? She doubted that would last if he’d seen what she’d been forced to do in battle after battle.

  In a strange way, she almost hoped he never did see her in that light. And yet…that would be less than honest. She was what she was…and any man she might be interested in needed to see her as she was.

  Enough of that. We need to get out of the palace and on the road. She walked more briskly toward Hryessa, who stood waiting by the supply wagon.

  LXXIV

  South of Lornth, in the late afternoon of fourday, the road was dusty but largely empty, for which Saryn was grateful. She had noted almost no one traveling northward toward Lornth, but she and her force had passed carts and small wagons heading away from the town.

  Why are they going southward? Was it just because they had friends or family with whom they could stay? Certainly, heading toward the lands of the lords most likely to create trouble didn’t make much sense to Saryn. Except most of the townspeople probably don’t know that. They only know that the Lady Regent is in trouble, and they’re afraid to be in Lornth because they know there may be fighting there.

  Saryn glanced at the road ahead, a packed-dirt way holding generally to the crest of a low rise that ran north and south. A kay or so ahead of her it dipped slightly, before climbing to the crest of yet another gentle rise. She squared herself slightly in the saddle, knowing that she couldn’t put off the task at hand, not if she and her force wanted to survive the eightdays ahead, because, sooner or later, another chaos-mage would show up to support the rebel lords, and the next one was likely to be far more accomplished than the Suthyan hedge mage she’d barely managed to handle.

  How could she create a shield against the chaos-fire-bolts?

  Slowly, she reached out with her senses and touched one of the nearest unseen nodes of order in the air. That was easy enough. Then she reached to another, and another…and another…Abruptly, the sunlight dimmed.

  “Ser?” asked Klarisa, riding beside her, “What’s happening?”

  Between Klarisa’s worried question and Saryn’s own unsteady control of the nodes, the order-linkage collapsed, and hot sunlight flooded back over Saryn and the squad leader…and the first riders in fourth squad.

  “Ser?” repeated the squad leader nervously.

  “I’m trying to work on how to deal with white mages,” Saryn said. “You might notice some strange things.”

  “Yes, ser. I’m sorry, ser.”

  “That’s all right. I should have warned you.”

  “Do you mind if I pass it back, ser?”

  “Just tell them that I’m working on a better defense against mages.”

  Klarisa turned in the saddle. “Don’t worry if you see strange things around the arms-commander. She’s practicing defenses against the white mages. Pass it back.”

  Saryn wasn’t about to correct the idea that she knew the defenses and was merely practicing them. She just hoped that she could come up with something that worked.

  Once she was sure that all the guards had had time to get the message, she concentrated on rebuilding the order-lattice that connected the tiny unseen nodes in the air around her. Once again, the light around her dimmed, but she had the feeling that the lattice she had created was more like a net than a shield. And nets didn’t stop targeted energy. That she’d learned in the darkness between stars.

  She released her hold on the net/lattice, and full sunlight flooded back over the squad. She took a deep breath.

  What else can you do? What had she done—exactly—in dealing with the Suthyan hedge mage?

  For a moment, she let her thoughts drift back to the fight with the raiders who had attacked Lord Spalkyn’s crofters and how she’d dealt with the small fire-bolts. She’d slid them, using a combined flow of order and chaos. Flow? Is that the key?

 
After extending her senses, as she continued to ride southward, for a time she just watched/sensed the flows in the air between the order nodes and those between the chaos nodes, noting that the changes between order nodes were patterned and infrequent, while those between chaos nodes were much faster and unpredictably irregular. Chaotic. She smiled at that thought.

  Now…could she meld the flows so that they would block a chaos-bolt and slide it away? Could she extend those flows so that they covered both squads?

  She began by smoothing the chaos flows between two nodes that seemed to jump from place to place—as did all of the chaos nodes. Then she extended the smoothing to a third node…and a fourth. She could feel a certain pressure, and she tried to link in the nearest order node. A tiny star flared in the air.

  That doesn’t work. What about the idea of flow circuits…or something?

  She began to connect order nodes, then tried to tie the linked chaos nodes to the linked order nodes…smoothing the “space” between them. Her “smoothing” tinged the white of the chaos with gray, and the black of order faded toward gray…but the flow seemed stronger, like a curtain of unseen gray light.

  At the same time, the white sunlight falling around her out of the hot and hazy green-blue sky seemed to shift toward the red, toward a faint amber. Cutting off the blue end of the spectrum?

  She linked in more of the order nodes to the order “circuit,” but, then, the curtain seemed to stiffen, as if it might crack or buckle—if something she could not see or feel could do either. So she extended her links to more of the dancing chaos nodes, and noticed that with each added chaos node, those nodes danced around less, although it felt to Saryn as though they were oscillating, or vibrating, within themselves.

  Balance…the flows have to balance.

  The sunlight darkened into a deeper red, and she glanced around, seeing that the reddish light shadow covered all of fourth squad, but only Yulia and the first rank of second squad.