“I don’t know the name of this river, but it does flow into the Yarth. That’s how Maeldyn gets his wool and hides to the traders there. Carpa is also served by the Yarth, and Father sends his wines down it. He used to, anyway. With the way the Suthyans have been refusing to pay what the vintage is worth, he’s been aging it more, hoping that prices will increase.”
“Has that worked?”
“Not so far. He took to drying the lower-quality grapes and sending the kegs of raisins to Gallos by the northern route. He didn’t get as much, but it kept him from having to take what ever the Suthyans offered for the wine.”
Saryn could see the square ahead, and while there looked to be a raised brick-and-stone platform in the middle, no statue graced the square. “Do they use the square as a marketplace at times, or…?” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish the question.
“Some towns do. I don’t know about Ryntal.”
Saryn could see that more than a few people along the streets were beginning to look at the riders, especially when they saw Saryn and Zeldyan, and the Westwind guards directly behind them. She could catch some of the murmurs and words.
“…that’s the Lady Regent…”
“…who’s with her…woman wearing blades…don’t see that…”
“…whole bunch of armed women…”
As they rode into the center square, Saryn scanned the buildings, seeing a chandlery, a cooperage, even a fuller’s, and, on the west side, a gracious-looking inn with wide porches supported by yellow-brick pillars. The roof over the third story was made of pale yellow tiles, and the shutters and trim were also painted yellow. Not surprisingly, the signboard showed a yellow house, and the words beneath read Yellow Inn.
The main street continued northward beyond the outskirts of the town. Less than a kay farther, a paved road angled up a low rise to a mansion surrounded by a low wall, a three-story dwelling that faced generally west, with covered porches on all sides, except the colonnaded front, and on all three levels. When they reached the crest of the road, Saryn could see that the rise was the south end of a long ridge. Stables and outbuildings flanked a stretch of yellow-brick pavement extending along the ridge for half a kay. Beyond the last of the structures began a forest that not only covered the ridge but spilled down both sides and continued northward into the higher hills. A gray-haired woman stood behind the railing of the lowest porch on the north side, and a man dressed in brown livery stood on the pavement below the porch railing.
“Welcome to Quaryn, Lady Regent!” called the woman in a loud and cheerful voice. “If you and the commander would care to dismount there, Feiltyr will see to your mounts and conduct your officers and armsmen to the guest barracks.”
In less than a quarter glass, Saryn found herself standing in a second-level corner room with a cool—at least for Lornth—breeze blowing though the open windows. She could see the rear courtyard, with a fountain that fed watering troughs, where both Zeldyan’s armsmen and the Westwind guards had almost finished stalling their mounts and were being directed toward the barracks flanking the stables. She turned from the window and toward the curtained nook of her room, which contained an actual tub, half-filled with warm water, and a table piled with soft towels.
She did not resist that temptation, even washing her hair, although she was thankful that she had kept it barely longer than the shipboard military style she’d grown accustomed to years before. She took her time in washing and dressing in a clean uniform, but when she did descend to the main level of the mansion, she was met by a black-haired and black-eyed young woman.
“Commander, I’m Ilys. Mother asked me to escort you to the porch. It’s much more comfortable out there.”
Saryn followed the lithe Ilys along the wide central hallway, past a formal dining chamber on one side and a very formal sitting room on the other, then out through a set of double doors onto the porch. Lady Maeldyn rose from where she had been sitting.
“Arms-commander…”
“Lady Maeldyn, your graciousness—”
“Anyna…please call me Anyna. The thought of the Arms-Commander of Westwind calling me ‘Lady’ is absolutely preposterous.”
Saryn couldn’t help smiling, not so much at Anyna’s words but at the directness and truthfulness behind them. Anyna meant exactly what she said. “Then…Anyna, thank you, and I am Saryn. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated the thoughtfulness of the bath awaiting me.”
“Nonsense. After a long dusty ride in the summer, that’s a courtesy for anyone. We even have showers in the barracks…I hope that…we did put your guards in a different barracks…”
“Showers are all that we have in Westwind,” Saryn said. “They’ll be as grateful as I am.”
“Good. That’s settled.” Anyna gestured to the cushioned chair across a low table from her. “You don’t mind if Ilys joins us?”
“I’d be pleased.”
Anyna smiled, and so did her daughter, as Ilys took the more straight-backed chair to the right of Saryn.
“Zeldyan will be here shortly, but I would like to ask you a few questions if I might.”
“Certainly.”
“Is it true that you gave Barcauyn’s loutish son a thorough drubbing?”
“Ah…” Had Zeldyan already told Anyna that, or had word reached the lady some other way? “I tried to be gentle with him, but…in the end I had to break his jaw and dump him on the stone before he understood.”
Both mother and daughter laughed, almost unrestrainedly.
Saryn wasn’t quite certain how to respond.
“We’re a bit different here,” Anyna said after she stopped laughing. “We have mountain cats and giant boars here. I insisted that Maeldyn train the girls, as well as Chaeldyn, with arms. Ilys is almost as good as her brother, and Abaya will be at least that good if she stays with it.”
“Could you work with me?” asked Ilys.
“If you’re willing to use wooden wands.”
“Please don’t say you want to use real blades,” interjected Zeldyan from the door to the porch. “That was Joncaryl’s first mistake…of many.” She crossed the porch and settled into the cushioned chair on Anyna’s left.
“Do all guards train with the wooden blades?” asked Ilys.
“Until they’re very good, and sometimes beyond,” replied Saryn. “The Marshal and I only spar against each other with wands.”
“Is that because you are good?”
“Well…we would prefer not to kill or injure each other.”
“Wooden wands,” said Anyna. “Definitely.” She turned slightly to face Zeldyan. “When I received your message, Lady Zeldyan, I sent a rider to summon Maeldyn, but he could not possibly return before tomorrow afternoon. That is perfectly acceptable to me because I never have had the opportunity to meet you, and never would I have a chance to meet someone like the arms-commander. Maeldyn would worry that you would corrupt me, Commander, but I’m too old for that kind of corruption…” A warm but light laugh followed those words. “When the Westwind…issue came up years ago, I told Maeldyn that any bunch of women who were desperate enough to fight were to be avoided at all costs. He did not believe me, totally, but he was wise enough to follow my advice. He also refused to treat with Trader Baorl when that snake slithered through here late in spring.”
“I understand that Lord Henstrenn received the trader,” Saryn said.
“That does not surprise me. Henstrenn thinks he should hold Lornth…begging your pardon, Lady Zeldyan, and he would treat with the white demons if he thought it would help him become overlord. The Suthyans are almost that bad.”
“Kelthyn seems little better, from what little I’ve seen,” suggested Saryn.
“With the notable exception of your consort,” began Zeldyan dryly, “I would suspect that ambition of at least half the holders in Lornth.”
“Ambition often grows most unrestrainedly in those with the least ability to manage it,” replied Anyna.
At that
moment, another figure stepped out from the doorway onto the porch—a much younger girl bearing a tray. She carried the tray out to the small table before her mother and set it down there. On the tray were three crystal carafes and five fluted crystal glasses.
“Thank you, Abaya.”
Abaya nodded politely and took the chair beside her sister.
“I can offer you white, amber, or red wine. The amber and red come from our vineyards, and the white from those at Hendyn. All are good, but I personally prefer the red.”
“The red,” replied Zeldyan.
“Red, please,” said Saryn.
“And I know what you two want,” said Anyna with a smile, looking at her daughters. As she lifted the carafe of red wine, she looked to Saryn. “I hope you won’t mind, but I would so like it if you would tell us about Westwind, what it’s like on the Roof of the World, and what the Marshal is like.”
“I’ll do my best,” replied Saryn. “Westwind itself sits in a valley sheltered on the north by a ridge. The most important building is Tower Black….”
LII
After a good night’s sleep and a leisurely breakfast with Zeldyan and the women of Quaryn, Saryn retrieved the weighted wands from her gear and brought them to the courtyard directly behind the rear porch. Both Ilys and Abaya were waiting, dressed in exercise tunics and trousers and riding boots.
“Why do you use the shorter blades?” asked Abaya.
“Because they’re more useful in a wider range of circumstances. Also, they’re better suited as a weapon for women, especially on horse back.”
“But the blades Father uses are much longer…” Ilys didn’t finish the sentence.
“I can throw my blades farther than his reach.” Saryn kept her voice even.
“I saw what you did at Cauyna,” said Zeldyan from the porch, where she sat with Anyna. “If it’s not too…intrusive, might I ask how many men you’ve killed by throwing a blade?”
Saryn glanced up at the regent. “I’ve never kept track, but it’s well over a score, perhaps two or three times that.”
For just a moment, Anyna’s face froze, and Saryn could sense the shock.
“You should understand that Westwind has been under attack in some way every year. Just this year, I’ve been in three battles or skirmishes. In every one, we’ve been outnumbered. The only way you can survive those odds is to kill them without suffering many casualties.”
Zeldyan nodded. The surprise slowly faded from Anyna’s face, but not from within her.
“Can’t you just drive them away?” asked Abaya.
“That doesn’t work. They’d just come back, and that means twice as much risk for us. They have thousands of armsmen. We only have hundreds of women…and their children.”
“Do you have children?”
“No. The Marshal does, but I don’t. Her daughter is about your age.” Saryn picked up one of the wands and handed it to the younger daughter. “We’ll start with one.” Then she stepped back. “Take your position.”
Abaya immediately took a stance.
“Put your feet a little closer together. They don’t have to be quite so far apart with a shorter and less weighty blade…”
A glass or so later, Saryn stepped back. “I think that’s enough for today.”
“Oh…” came from Abaya. “I was just getting better.”
“Thank you,” said Ilys, smiling and inclining her head.
“Thank you,” added the younger sister quickly before turning and looking up at her mother on the porch. “She’s very good.”
“I know. I watched her. Now…go get cleaned up so that you’ll look presentable for your father. I hope it won’t be that long before he arrives.”
“Yes, Mother.” Abaya nodded, then looked to Saryn. “Father lets us exercise and ride and spar, but only if we look like ladies the rest of the time.”
Once Abaya and Ilys had left, Saryn said, “Lord Maeldyn sounds unlike other lords with respect to his daughters.”
“Maeldyn is quite aware of both the proprieties and the realities.” Anyna laughed. “He’s also cognizant that they tend to conflict. Thank you for taking the time with them.”
“How could I not, when so few girls are given the chances that you’ve given yours?”
“Do you train all the girls at Westwind?” asked Zeldyan.
“When they’re old enough.” There was a moment of silence before Saryn spoke. “If you’d excuse me, I’d like to check with the guards.”
“Oh…don’t let us keep you. We’re not exactly going anywhere. I do hope it won’t be that long before Maeldyn returns.”
Saryn wasn’t certain whether she should be eager for the lord’s return or not as she made her way farther along the courtyard until she found Klarisa. The squad leader had just finished sparring drills and turned. “Commander.”
“Squad leader. How are matters?”
“The quarters are good. They have showers. The stables are clean, and there was plenty of food for breakfast, and even some fowl eggs with porridge and bread.”
“And your guards and mounts?”
“Garlya’s mount is lame, but we brought two spares. How long will we be here?”
“Until tomorrow, at least, possibly a day longer, but I wouldn’t count on that.”
“Then we will wash everything we can now.”
Saryn nodded. “How are things going with the Lornian armsmen?”
“They are very respectful.” Klarisa grinned. “They have been even more respectful since you sparred with Lord Barcauyn’s son.”
Saryn’s smile was as much sad as wry. Again, respect came only at the edge of a blade.
Later, after Saryn had washed up and after a light midday meal, Saryn, Zeldyan, and Anyna were talking on the northern porch when Lady Maeldyn pointed to the northeast.
“I do believe I see Maeldyn and Chaeldyn on the ridge trail. It won’t be all that long before they’re in the courtyard.”
Saryn followed the gesture and was slightly surprised to see that there were only six riders and two pack horses, certainly a small party for hunting, from what she had heard about the massive hunts with scores of men and staff. As she watched, no more riders emerged from the woods, and the six finally entered the north end of the long courtyard through the open gates.
“They’re not bringing back that much game,” observed Zeldyan.
“Maeldyn brings what we need,” replied Anyna. “We don’t maintain that large an establishment here. There are only about thirty armsmen here and just five staff. Of course, Maeldyn also pays the twenty armsmen who are patrollers in Ryntal, Hendyn, and Corsaera, and he can call them up as necessary.”
So Lord Maeldyn was supplying the patrollers who kept peace in the towns?
“Do other lords follow that practice?” asked Saryn.
“My father does,” replied Zeldyan, “and Lord Deolyn might. I think it used to be more common, especially here in the north.”
Before that long, the riders had reined up outside the stables and dismounted. One, presumably Lord Maeldyn, spent some time talking to a youth before turning and walking quickly past the courtyard fountain and toward the mansion.
As the lord strode up to the porch, Saryn studied him with both her eyes and her senses. Maeldyn was of medium height, less than a span taller than Saryn, and thin-faced, with a long chin and narrow lips that imparted the impression of dour grimness. His thinning hair was black but without a trace of gray. His tunic and trousers were a light brown, close to tan, and his riding boots were polished dark brown.
Once he climbed the five steps to the rear porch, his first gesture was to step forward and wrap his arms around Anyna. “I’m home, dearest. Chaeldyn is settling the mounts and gear.” After that brief but warm gesture, he turned to Zeldyan. “Lady Regent.” Then he faced Saryn. “You must be the arms-commander.” Maeldyn’s voice was cool and clipped, and his brown eyes seemed almost flat.
“I’m Saryn, Lord Maeldyn.”
“Maeldyn will do here at Quaryn. More than do.” The warmth of his fleeting smile was totally at odds with his voice and severe demeanor. “If you ladies will excuse me, it has been a long ride, and I’d prefer to be somewhat more presentable.”
“Of course, dear,” replied Anyna. “I’ll have the girls ready wine for when you join us. Supper will be ready at the usual glass.”
“Thank you.” Maeldyn nodded to the three women. “I will return shortly, but I doubt you will miss me.” A quick grin creased his thin face before he turned and headed inside.
Saryn had to admit to herself that he was anything but what she had expected, especially after her previous experiences with Lornian lords.
“I thought he would be back soon,” said Anyna.
Before long, Ilys and Abaya appeared with carafes of wine and a tray with small pastries. Not that long after the girls set the two trays in place, Chaeldyn appeared, a youth not quite fully mature with his father’s thin face, but with green eyes and just enough roundness in his cheeks that he looked merely serious rather than dour. He took a chair between his sisters, offering a “Good afternoon, your graces,” with a nod to the regent, Saryn, and his mother, in that order.
“It won’t be long, now,” said Anyna.
As she finished her words, Maledyn stepped out onto the porch. “Ah…lovely afternoon.”
Saryn wouldn’t have called it lovely, but bearable, on the shaded porch with a light breeze out of the north, but she nodded polite agreement.
Only after Anyna had filled all the wineglasses did she turn to her consort and ask, “How was the hunting, dear?”
“We took care of what was needed. We tracked and killed the two boars who were rooting into the gardens and fields near Hendyn, and we let the locals kill some of the excess deer north and east of town here. They’ve been encroaching on the orchards, and that’s not good for the harvests. They like the pearapples, especially…”
As Maeldyn summarized the hunting trip, Saryn noted that, while the three children were included, their chairs were set back just slightly, so that they did not break the line of sight between adults, and that they remained quiet, unless addressed directly. She also could sense that, even beyond his words, Maeldyn didn’t like hunting but regarded it as a necessary duty.
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