Lady-Protector

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  Turning, she began to move southward and uphill until she hovered above the crest of a ridge that held more rocks than trees. To the south was another line of hills. The highest point on the hill directly south looked to be somewhat more than a vingt away. To the southeast, over the hills before her, she could make out the outlines of a town. From her previous explorations, she recognized it as Viencet. She turned her eyes to the southwest, trying to find the line of hills that Areyst had mentioned and the map in the battle plan had shown.

  Slowly, she moved southward until she hovered above the southern line of hills. While the strength of the darkness below had weakened, she could still draw enough to hold her height above the trees and survey the land. To the southwest, she could make out rolling rises, rather than what she would have called hills. South of the hill below her, the forest thinned to scattered pines and red clay and rock and high grasses and bushes. A vingt or so of mostly wild grasses stretched from the foot of the hill to the eternastone highway. On the south side of the highway, another half vingt of grasses and bushes led to the rolling rises described by Areyst.

  At least, the locale seemed to fit the area Areyst had described.

  And what exactly will you do when the time comes?

  Mykella had no idea, only that she needed to be there. She just hoped she could figure out how to be effective … somehow.

  As she thought about returning to Tempre, a shadow passed over her, then something slammed into the back of her head, leaving a line of fire across her skull. She threw up both arms and hands and turned, barely warding off a large iron gray bird—a ferrohawk—as another swept down and past her. The first ferrohawk climbed and dived back at her, but the nightsilk of her jacket sleeve kept the bird’s claws from ripping her skin. Then the second bird climbed above her and came down in a high-speed, high-angled stoop. Mykella blocked the attack with her arm, but the impact was enough to jolt her, and the ferrohawk tumbled away before regaining stability.

  Flailing her arms to keep the two away—doubtless a nesting pair that saw her as a predatory intruder—she slowly descended between the trees, mostly pines, toward the darkness.

  As she slipped downward through the stone toward the chill, she couldn’t help but think about the ludicrousness—and seriousness—of what had just happened. The ferrohawks had brought home—again—her vulnerability when “soaring” because she couldn’t soar or use the dark paths and maintain shields at the same time.

  The chill of the depths numbed some of the pain—until she emerged in her quarters.

  Cleaning the wounds in her scalp and getting the bleeding to stop took almost half a glass. Then she searched for and finally found an unguent that was supposed to keep shallow wounds from festering. Applying it was more than awkward, because she had to hold a mirror with one hand and angle it so she could use the dressing-table mirror to see where to place the unguent. After that she tried to get the greasy oiliness out of her hair, except where it was near the claw marks, and comb it so that the wounds weren’t that obvious.

  She also checked her arm, more than certain that, despite the nightsilk, there would be bruising by the morrow. All in all, it took her more time to deal with the result of the ferrohawks’ territorial protectiveness than it had to seek out and scout Areyst’s planned battle positions.

  Is that a lesson of some sort? Or just the perverseness of the world?

  She hoped she had the courage of the ferrohawks when she faced adversaries of greater power and size.

  Finally, she finished cleaning herself up and made her way from her quarters back to the formal study and the waiting missives, ledgers, and mounting claims on her Treasury.

  44

  As Salyna had predicted, Mykella did not see her youngest sister on either Septi or Octdi … or at breakfast on Novdi morning. Surprisingly, Rachylana was already seated in the breakfast room when Mykella entered.

  “You’re early,” offered Mykella as she took her place.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Muergya brought two platters, setting one in front of each sister, then returned with a pot of tea for Mykella and a basket of warm bread. She frowned as she stepped back from Mykella.

  Mykella could sense her concern and suspected the serving girl had glimpsed the marks in her scalp even though she’d tried to comb her hair over them.

  “When did you last check the Table?” asked Mykella, pouring her tea.

  “Late yesterday afternoon. Cheleyza and her forces were still riding through forests. They hadn’t reached that part of the highway where it goes through the Coastal Range north of the River Vedra. Anyway, the maps say that it does, and they’re riding through forested low hills.” Rachylana took a small morsel of a large egg, a duck egg, making a face as she swallowed it.

  Mykella looked at the duck egg, boiled, and took a bite out of one of the ham strips, followed by a sip of her tea. “What else?”

  “Khanasyl has been meeting with a number of Seltyrs. Most of them I don’t recognize. None of them look happy. I can’t find any sign of that fat lizard Maxymt.”

  “When you can’t find people, it’s because you don’t know them, or they have Talent, or they’re dead. You were able to see him before, weren’t you?”

  “For the past few days. He was always looking over his shoulder.”

  “Then he’s most likely dead. What about Commander Demyl?”

  “He’s still in Southgate. He doesn’t look happy. I don’t think he’s a commander there.”

  “I’d doubt it. He might be a majer, but that would gall him.”

  “Good.” Rachylana reached for the bread.

  Mykella handed her the basket.

  “You got hurt again, didn’t you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The way you moved your arm.”

  “It’s bruised, and I’ve got some other scratches. I interrupted a pair of nesting ferrohawks. They weren’t happy.”

  Rachylana shook her head. “No one would ever guess what you do and where you go.”

  “I hope not. How are arrangements for the ball coming?”

  “As well as one could hope, with no envoys or distinguished visitors in attendance.”

  Before long, Mykella finished and made her way to her formal study, where, for once, all that waited her was a pair of petitions and a report from Engineer Nusgeyl indicating that the western sewer repairs were completed and that the towpath and eastern sewer repairs would be finished by nineweek—provided there were no immoderate storms.

  Promptly, a glass before noon, Areyst stepped into Mykella’s study.

  “Lady-Protector.”

  “Commander…”

  “As you requested, I am here before departing for Viencet.” After straightening from his bow, Areyst’s eyes caught and held Mykella’s.

  She did not look away but concentrated on sensing what he felt. Then she had to struggle not to flush. “Commander…” she said gently, gesturing toward the chairs.

  “You did request my presence,” he said with a smile after sitting.

  “I did.” She paused. “You may understand why. Tell me about your upbringing.”

  Areyst nodded, almost solemnly, yet he seemed relieved by her question as he began to speak. “I was born and raised in Krost. There my family had created a glassblowing shop and later a factorage. The crystal sands are most suitable for all manner of glass. I am the youngest of three, and the least suited to either glassblowing or factoring. I found I lacked the … ability to create beauty in molten glass. Oh, I could turn out quite workmanlike bowls and tumblers, and even goblets—often perfect copies if I had a model to follow. But my own creations were uninspired. I was similarly unsuited for haggling over the costs of sands or colorants or for knowing when to hold fast against a determined bargainer.”

  At that pause, Mykella interjected. “That seems surprising. You read people well.”

  “I should not have said ‘knowing.’ I always knew exactly what som
eone would pay or not pay. What I did not know, for I was young, was that it is never wise to push for the very last copper. In time, people come to hate and avoid you, and it became clear to my parents and brothers that no one would bargain with me. They would leave if they had to deal with me, or find an excuse to talk to anyone else.” Areyst’s smile was almost one of embarrassment.

  “How did you come to join the Southern Guards?”

  “I was good at fighting, even as a boy. My father paid for me to be trained as a rider, a marksman, and with the use of blades. He arranged for me to be given a provisional commission as an undercaptain. He said—if I had to fight—that I should be an officer.”

  “You have done well.”

  Areyst laughed. “It was not always so. I served two tours as a provisional undercaptain. Had I not been foolish enough to lead a squad against Ongelyan nomads who threatened a local factor in Indyor, I would probably have been sent back to Krost in disgrace.”

  “A local factor?”

  “His youngest daughter had married the captain.”

  Mykella laughed. “And that made your commission permanent?”

  “It did. It also resulted in my spending almost ten years in outposts subject to raiders and nomads, with a few seasons in Viencet and here in Tempre.”

  “You have no sisters?”

  “One older sister. She married a vintner and lives in Vyan. Once in a while, I get a bottle of very good wine.”

  “You must have other talents besides reading people and being an outstanding officer.”

  “My talents in the arts are the same as those in glassblowing. I cannot write verse. I write directly. Too directly, Commander Choalt has said. Nor can I sculpt or paint. I can use tools but to repair and replace.”

  “Men will follow you,” Mykella observed.

  “They will. They know I do my best for them. Good soldiers appreciate that.”

  “And you make sure that the poor ones do not remain in the Guards.”

  “First, I try to make them into good soldiers. Sometimes, I have succeeded.” After the briefest pause, Areyst asked, “And what of you, Lady-Protector?”

  “I am not artistic. I have a head for figures. You know that.”

  “A very good head for numbers. You were correct about the use of rifles because of the powder shortages you deduced.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You also do not like manipulating people or letting others take the blame for your acts.”

  “And how did you deduce that, Commander?”

  “When you had your brother escort you to see the Seltyrs, and I was about to remonstrate with him, you stepped in. You urged your mount forward so that I could not even speak directly to him.”

  Mykella didn’t recall going quite that far. “I didn’t want to manipulate him, but there wasn’t any other way to find out how much was being stolen.”

  “How much was stolen?”

  Mykella shrugged. “So far, we’ve been able to track close to ten thousand golds. My calculations suggest that more than twice that amount is missing, but it’s difficult to prove you’ve lost what never reached the Treasury. We’ve recovered less than ten thousand.”

  “How much of that, if I may ask, have you spent personally?”

  Mykella frowned.

  “It is impertinent, I know, but if you would indulge me…” His voice was soft.

  Since Mykella could discern no calculation, she finally answered. “I gave a hundred golds to Salyna to pay for uniforms for the auxiliaries, and I will be paying for a ball gown because both my sisters insist that I need a new gown for the season-turn ball.”

  Areyst laughed, warmly and openly. “You worry about buying one gown in a season, as Lady-Protector, when Lady Cheleyza must have bought fifty in a year as the wife of the Finance Minister. That says much.”

  “Oh? And what does it say?” Mykella regretted the words even as she spoke. “Please don’t answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You’re ashamed to ask a compliment of me? You, who have risked your life for Lanachrona more times in a season than most guards do in their entire lives?” There was both admiration and sadness behind his words.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have seen the signs, Lady, and I have listened. I have seen bruises that powder did not cover, and soreness and stiffness that care and posture did not completely disguise. I know you have ridden roads and byways that no Protector has seen in generations. You have dared depths and places that would have killed others and that you did so not knowing if you would prevail.”

  “And there were too many times where I overestimated my abilities, Commander. That was not courage, but false pride and stupidity.”

  “Saying so is honesty, my Lady.”

  The way he said those words shocked her because she realized that, even if she had not chosen him in her mind, she still would have been his Lady. For a moment, she could say nothing. “You are more kind than I can say. Far more kind.”

  He shook his head. “I strive to be honest and fair, but few would ever call me kind.”

  He believed that, Mykella realized. “Few are likely to call me such, either. In that, we may well be alike.”

  “Perhaps in more ways than that,” he replied.

  “Perhaps.” She smiled, then let the expression fade, with regret, she hoped. “I must raise a question about your plan before you depart.”

  “Yes?”

  “I noticed that there is an expanse of grass to the north of the highway opposite where you plan to stage your attack.”

  “You worry the enemy could flee through those grasses to the woods? Or to flank us? Did you walk the grasses?”

  “No. I saw them from the hillside above.”

  “You would find that those grasses conceal very uneven ground. There are gullies and ravines that one cannot see until it is too late—even when mounted.”

  “The entire grassy area is like that?”

  “Some of it is worse. Much worse.”

  “I should have known you would have considered that.”

  “How would you know without asking? I am pleased that you asked.”

  And he was, she felt. Why? Because he wasn’t looking for blind approval? She smiled again. “I need to ask. There is much I must learn, and little time to do so.”

  “Is that not true for all?”

  “Most likely,” she admitted. Mykella wanted to hear more, but asking more at the moment was not for the best. You should learn more each time he comes … and let him see and sense more of you.

  She stood. “I will not keep you longer, Commander. I would that you take care, and I will be looking for you on your return to Tempre.”

  “I will report to you once my men are situated back in the Southern Guard barracks. It will be my duty … and pleasure.”

  Their eyes met again.

  After several moments, Areyst bowed, then straightened. “Until then, my Lady.” His words were polite and formal. The feelings behind them were not. He turned and left.

  Mykella swallowed hard as the door closed. Seeing him leave is getting difficult. Yet she knew that to say more than she had so far was neither wise, nor for the best. Not yet. At the same time, she didn’t want him to feel she was playing with him. She hoped his ability to read people revealed that much in her.

  Again, she watched from the study window as Areyst rode back away from the palace.

  45

  Salyna entered the breakfast room on Decdi, a good two glasses after dawn, started to seat herself next to Mykella—and stopped. “Mykella! The back of your head…”

  Mykella set down her mug. “They’re ferrohawk claw marks. A nesting pair. They caught me from behind.”

  “You can protect yourself, I thought…”

  “There are times I can’t, and I thought I was safe where I was. I wasn’t.”

  Salyna’s eyes narrowed. “There aren’t any ferrohawks near Tempre.” She glanced across the table
to Rachylana.

  Rachylana looked back innocently.

  “It happened near Viencet. I was scouting the approaches to the town.”

  “That’s the job of the Southern Guards, not the Lady-Protector.” Salyna slid into the chair beside Mykella and helped herself to cooling bacon slices from the platter in the middle of the table, and then to one of the small loaves in the basket.

  “I can do things the Guards can’t, just like your auxiliaries will do what the Guards can’t or won’t.”

  “But…”

  “If you say anything to that, Salyna,” interrupted Rachylana, “you’ll undermine what you’re doing, such as it is.”

  Mykella winced, but neither sister was looking at her.

  “You couldn’t do what these women you call sculls are already doing. You couldn’t even do the exercises.” The scorn in Salyna’s voice was palpable. “If you want a challenge, come and help me train the auxiliaries. Of course, that is hard work, and…”

  “And what?”

  Salyna shrugged. “We sweat a lot.”

  “That’s not what you meant,” Rachylana persisted.

  “What did I mean?” replied Salyna innocently.

  “You know very well what you meant.”

  “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea.” The corners of Salyna’s mouth curled upward ever so slightly.

  “When do you begin … in the morning?” Rachylana’s voice was cold, her eyes far colder than her voice.

  “The top of the first full glass after dawn.”

  “I have some … chores here … that I still have to do.” Rachylana looked to Mykella.

  “We’ll work it out,” said Mykella, puzzled as to why Rachylana would consider training with the auxiliaries, even after Salyna’s obvious baiting, when the redhead had heretofore steadfastly resisted such comments.

  “I’m certain we can do without you for a few glasses,” Salyna added.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’m sure you will be.”

  Mykella winced at the implication behind Salyna’s reply and the unspoken words along the lines of “when you’re not arranging balls and other meaningless things.” She forced herself to take a sip of tea. “Now that you two have that settled … could we get on with breakfast?”