Arms-Commander

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

She stepped toward the herder, gesturing toward the wall in inquiry.

  “All the old Cyadoran houses had them. That was so no one could look inside at the womenfolk. That’s what my grandma said, anyways.”

  Saryn followed the herder around the wall. He had to lift the door slightly as he opened it in order to get it over the slightly buckled masonry. Saryn noted a narrow shining metal shutter in the center of the door, set approximately at eye height, and apparently made of the same metal as the hitching ring. Behind the door, inside the dwelling, was another privacy wall, but the floor between the door and the inside wall and to each end of the privacy wall comprised a mosaic. Although a handful of tiles were missing, and dust covered the remaining tiles, Saryn had no trouble making out the image of a mounted figure with a shining lance squaring off against an enormous lizard.

  “Stun lizard. From the Accursed Forest,” said the herder laconically, before he stepped into a room that stretched the width of the dwelling. The third of the room to the left was filled with stacks of short timbers. “Good place to dry the oak.”

  On the right end in the far corner was what looked like a ceramic stove. That side of the chamber was otherwise vacant, except for a solid ring of the shimmering metal set into the wall. “What’s that for?” Saryn pointed to the metal ring.

  “Link-ring. What Ma said, anyway. Cyadoran women who misbehaved or tried to run away had their chains linked there.”

  Had their chains linked there? They wore chains all the time? Saryn forced herself not to retort. Finally, she nodded and turned. Two sets of two narrow windows graced the front of the dwelling, and three windows were set into the walls at each end of the room. All the windows had sagging internal shutters that were closed and did not look as though they had been moved in years. The entire floor was of dark gray tiles, many of which were cracked, but still firmly in place. After a moment, she looked to the archway leading toward the rear of the dwelling.

  “Most of the back rooms are empty. Don’t do as much wood as my da did. Herding brings more coins.”

  “Didn’t anyone want to repair this?” Saryn asked. “It’s not in bad shape.”

  “Grandma, Ma…they said it was no place for women, that it still held demons. Neither one’d ever set foot inside.”

  With that evil ring, I can see why. “How long has it been here?”

  The herder shrugged. “Hard to say. Was here before my great-grandda bought the place. He didn’t even know it was here, what with all the brush grown up around it.”

  Saryn nodded. “This will do. Thank you.”

  The herder glanced around the chamber, seemingly holding in a shudder, then said, “I need to get back to milking, ser.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll manage.”

  After he left, Saryn spent a moment studying the dwelling. For all the herder’s talk of demons, she could sense no concentrations of either order or chaos. If the link-ring were removed…it wouldn’t be that bad, but she could understand why any sane woman would be repulsed by that metallic ring. Still…even in its present state of disrepair, the ancient house was far more solid than most of what she’d seen in Lornth. With a modicum of work, it could be made into a comfortable dwelling with cross ventilation and a good stove for heat in the winter. And no one had ever wanted to use it for more than storage? And what was that shining silvery gold metal that age had not dimmed?

  She shook her head. At least her squads would have space out of the drizzle and rain for the night. But she did have to hold in a shudder when her eyes took in the shining ring.

  LXVIII

  On mid afternoon of twoday, Saryn’s force rode into Nuelda, a small town on the west side of a nameless—at least to Saryn and Saensyr—narrow river confined between broad earthen berms that suggested the water was not always so narrow and shallow. Saryn had the Lornian squad lead the way, flying the regent’s banner, and she rode at the front with squad leader Caeris. The dwellings were all of dull red brick, but the roofs were of a reddish gray clay tile rather than the turf they had seen earlier.

  As in all Lornian towns, there was a central square with a raised platform in the middle, but the platform was low and of simple brick, with no statue or other adornment, and the inn to the south of it looked old, small, and mean. The passage of armed riders, particularly of armed Westwind guards, seemed to freeze those on the streets. Most just gaped, but several women dragged children inside shops.

  Before all that long, the riders were following a packed-clay-and-gravel road to Jharyk’s holding, located on a rise along the river, on the southwest side of the town. Unlike other holdings Saryn had seen, there were no walls around the long and low villa, with extensive outbuildings set along the crest of the rise some hundred cubits above the river. The villa, even to the square columns framing the entry, was of red brick.

  Not knowing what else to do, Saryn directed the Lornian squad to form up opposite the main entry steps rising from a paved area with mounting blocks, with the Westwind squads flanking the Lornians.

  They had barely completed forming up when a small man wearing a dark gray tunic and trousers, with a silvery shimmersilk vest over the tunic, stepped from the villa and walked halfway down the steps. He stopped and looked to Caeris, ignoring Saryn. “Captain…it’s about time you arrived here.”

  Caeris glanced to Saryn, then said quietly, “Begging your pardon, Lord, but I’m just a squad leader. Commander Saryn here is in charge.”

  “A woman? That’s—” Jharyk’s eyes narrowed as he took in Saryn, then widened as he saw the battle harness with the twin blades.

  “Lord Jharyk, I’m Arms-Commander of Westwind. I believe you have heard of Westwind. Since we did sign an agreement with Lornth some years ago, we are at peace, and in the interests of helping a cooperative neighbor, the Marshal sent me and close to a company of guards to offer some assistance to the regency.” Saryn paused before adding, “Since it would take almost an eightday to obtain a complete Lornian company and ride here, and since you had expressed urgency, we agreed to take on the mission on behalf of the regency.”

  “How can you…and women help?”

  “Earlier this summer we destroyed an army of nine thousand Gallosians with four companies. A number of years ago we did the same to a Lornian force, and over the past few years we’ve wiped out several hundred brigands and others. We have more experience at killing unwanted intruders than anyone else around. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Jharyk was silent, and Saryn could sense that he was getting angry. She turned to Caeris. “You might tell Lord Jharyk about the Suthyans, since he seems unwilling to accept my words.”

  Caeris swallowed, then spoke. “One squad of her women destroyed almost fourscore armed Suthyans who were attacking Lord Maeldyn’s crofters. She lost one guard. They did it all with weapons and not magery.”

  “Why are you here?” Jharyk finally asked, as if nothing had been said before, but his eyes finally acknowledged Saryn.

  “It’s very simple, Lord Jharyk. You have been a supporter of the regency. Had you not been, in all likelihood you would still be waiting for assistance. Westwind prefers friendly neighbors. The regency has been friendly. Those who oppose the regency would likely not be so friendly. We help the friends of our friends.”

  “Why would it take so long for a Lornian company?” Jharyk demanded, almost petulantly.

  “I imagine that’s because they’re in Carpa at The Groves, and it would take time for a courier to ride there and even more time for them to prepare, then ride here.”

  “There is that. Well, now that you’re here, I imagine you can make yourselves useful by doing what you can to deal with those Jeranyi pests.”

  “We will need some information from you, or your people, Lord Jharyk, as to where the Jeranyi have been attacking. We’ll also need supplies, food, and lodging while we’re here…”

  “I’m but the poorest of lord-holders…”

  Saryn smiled. “So you have said, but feeding
and lodging the better part of a company for an eightday or however long it takes us to deal with the Jeranyi is far less costly than maintaining a full company yourself, and you can console yourself with that thought.”

  Saryn could sense that Jharyk was so shocked by her reply that anger didn’t even occur to him. “You…you would talk so?”

  “We’ve ridden all the way from Lornth because you asked for assistance, Lord Jharyk. We’re here at your request of the Lady Regent. It’s certainly not unreasonable to expect food, lodging, and fodder, now, is it?” Saryn smiled politely.

  “For a woman so beautiful, you are not exactly accommodating…Commander.”

  “I am being very accommodating to your need to deal with the Jeranyi.” For any other accommodation, you’d better look to your present consort.

  Jharyk forced a smile. “Ah…I will go and summon my steward. He will settle your guards and armsmen. Then, after you have worked out matters with him, perhaps you would join me in my study…Commander, so that we may discuss the best way to approach matters.”

  “Most certainly.” Saryn returned the smile with one as equally charming and false.

  Saryn shifted her weight in the saddle and watched as Lord Jharyk made his way back into the villa, then glanced to Caeris.

  “I’m sorry, Commander, if—”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about, especially here.” Saryn followed her words with a humorous smile. She could sense the squad leader’s relief.

  The man who hurried down the steps after a good tenth of a glass was of moderate height, and balding. He walked quickly toward Saryn and bowed deeply. “Arms-commander…I am most sorry that we did not know of your arrival so that we might be better prepared—”

  “We understand,” Saryn replied. “I am certain that Lord Jharyk did not expect us quite so soon, but we came almost as quickly as any messenger could have.”

  “We do not have much in the way of accommodations for as many armsmen as you have brought…but there is a new barn, and the stables are mostly empty at present.”

  “Let’s see what you have, and we’ll work from there. Where do we go?”

  “Ah…around the villa…that way and past the staff quarters—that’s the first building.”

  “We will meet you there.” Saryn paused. “You are?”

  “Boudyn, Commander.”

  “I’m sure we can work things out, Boudyn. We’re not likely to be here at Nuelda long, unless there are Jeranyi near.”

  “Oh, no, Commander. The closest they have come is at Westera, and that is a good fifteen kays from here.”

  Saryn raised her arm.

  “On the commander!” called out Caeris.

  Saryn urged the gelding forward and to the left, following the packed-clay-and-gravel drive around the villa.

  All in all, it took less than half a glass to work out the quartering and feeding arrangements with Boudyn, and then Saryn walked from the stables to the rear entrance to the villa, where a young woman stood waiting.

  “Commander?” Her voice was unsteady, just short of trembling.

  “Yes,” replied Saryn pleasantly.

  “Lord Jharyk awaits you in his study. If you would come this way…”

  Saryn followed the woman along a short, covered walk, supported by square brick columns, then through a set of double doors into a wide hallway. She could see immediately that the villa was laid out so that, if doors and windows were opened, cross ventilation would occur regardless of wind direction, although the wind from the south might well bring not only coolness but a certain odor from the stables.

  The study was on the northeast corner of the villa and paneled in a dark wood Saryn didn’t recognize. As she stepped into the chamber, with its wide windows that offered a view of the river and the town, Jharyk rose from behind a wide desk on which were spread several maps.

  “I do apologize for my…abruptness, Commander,” said the small lord smoothly. “You must understand I never expected a force of Westwind guards coming to deal with the Jeranyi.”

  “I can understand your surprise, Lord Jharyk, and from what your steward said, it’s unlikely that we’ll be spending more than tonight here.”

  “You, at least, must join us for the evening meal. Ioncosa has never met…well…none of us have ever met a Westwind guard, much less the Arms-Commander of Westwind.”

  “I would be honored.” Not particularly pleased, but honored.

  “Good. Very good.” He turned to the desk and gestured. “Here is a map of the holding…the hamlets here to the southwest are those where the Jeranyi struck. Westera was the closest…right here. I would judge that they will move either east or north from there…”

  Saryn said little as she listened and followed the swift and jerky gestures of the lord. Chauvinistic and arrogant Jharyk might be, but he was neither stupid nor slow, and he was clearly trying to make up for being taken aback by Saryn’s arrival. She was also certain that he had decided Saryn’s appearance at Nuelda was to his benefit, although she couldn’t sense why.

  Once Jharyk finished describing what had happened where and when, Saryn asked, “Have the hamlets or cots of other holders been attacked?”

  “They don’t seem to have been. My lands are closest to the West Pass, though, and that’s the easiest way through the hills from Jerans.”

  “Are the hills that hard to cross?”

  “Compared to the Westhorns? Hardly. But the Jeranyi are always looking for the easy way. Steal rather than raise their own. Take a woman rather than arrange a consorting. Be a boon to all Candar if they were just wiped out.”

  Saryn didn’t like what she was hearing. If the Jeranyi were so opportunistic, why were there no attacks on other holders at all? Was that because the Jeranyi knew Nuelda was the weakest…or for other reasons, such as a message from the other lords?

  After another half glass, the same young woman escorted Saryn to her guest chamber. There, Saryn discovered that someone had brought her gear and laid it out—still packed—on the long table under the high windows.

  “The wash chamber is through the door there, Commander.”

  Saryn almost felt guilty getting cleaned up and changing. Almost. When she left the room, her escort was waiting, and brought her to a set of open double doors, then slipped away.

  “I hope you do not mind that it will be just the three of us,” offered Jharyk, standing at the door to the dining chamber.

  “No, not at all. You’re very kind.”

  Jharyk laughed. “I’m seldom called such. You must already know that. But for all my vanities and foibles, I try not to be stupid. I’m certain you know much that I do not, and I hope to learn from you. But…first, may I present my consort, Ioncosa?”

  Ioncosa was petite, dark-haired, and probably not much older than the youngest of the Westwind guard recruits. She was also pregnant and smiled shyly. “Commander…it is such an honor to have you here at Nuelda. I have always heard of the Westwind guards, but they seemed so…unreal. Yet…you are so solid, even though you’re…”

  “No…I’m not a giant,” said Saryn with a slight laugh. “The Marshal is imposing in stature as well, but most of us are not.”

  Jharyk gestured toward the far end of a table that could have held twenty but was set for three. “We should be seated.”

  As soon as the three had taken their places, Jharyk filled the three goblets almost precisely two-thirds of the way. “Enjoy.” He raised his goblet, then took a sip. “Some of the other lords in the west here make their own vintages.” He shook his head. “Waste of golds and time. The soils aren’t right. They’re best for sheep and wool, and for dairying and cheese. So I buy good wine when times are hard and store it in the cellar. We also store the cheeses if we can’t get the proper prices.” He smiled at Saryn. “I’ve never figured out how you could support so many folk—or any folk—on the Roof of the World. Would you mind telling us what life is like up there?”

  Saryn took a sip of the deep
red wine. Jharyk was right about one thing. The wine was good, and she wondered where he had gotten it. “It was very hard for the first years. We do have mountain sheep…”

  Jharyk nodded as she spoke, but Saryn could sense he would remember every word she said through the entire meal.

  LXIX

  In the deep darkness before the sun would rise over the hills west of Suedara on sevenday, Saryn had a far better idea why no one really wanted to deal with the Jeranyi. Four days of following tracks, sleeping in dusty barns and sheds, and sensing the riders who could only be Jeranyi scattering away through the bush-covered hills had left her feeling more than a little frustrated and very much more understanding of why Lord Sillek had just had his mages drop fire-bolts on what ever Jeranyi he’d been able to find.

  Saensyr had just said, “One wastes shafts trying to use bows, and horses chasing them.”

  Was that another reason why the Lornians didn’t use archers in battle? It couldn’t be the only reason, could it?

  At the same time, she’d also come to realize that her ability to use the flow of order and chaos in the areas around her had extended. She could now reliably sense riders and large animals at close to two kays. Part of that had to have been because of the more open terrain, but some also had come from having to use her senses so much—because there didn’t seen to be any other way to discover the raiders.

  She’d also discovered that the Jeranyi liked to move into position well before dawn, then strike when there was just enough light to see. That was how two more small hamlets had suffered. It was also why she was leading the three squads through the darkness along a trail well away from and west of the main narrow road. If they’d used the main road, the Jeranyi certainly would have noticed all the hoofprints. Suedara wasn’t a hamlet, but a small town, with not only cots and crofters, but even a few houses of more than one room—and it was the only town with easy access from the trails leading from the West Pass that had not suffered from the raiders, and that was doubtless also why many had fled there from devastated hamlets.