Still smiling, Saryn shook her head. “I can’t imagine you’d drive a wagon after any armsmen. I won’t keep you from your duties. We are leaving as soon as possible.” She started to turn, then stopped. “I am glad you’ll be with us.” Then she walked back toward the barracks, feeling Dealdron’s eyes on her back, half-surprised that she didn’t mind the feeling. But then, she knew he was concerned about her and didn’t think she was a white demon.
LXXIX
By noon on eightday, Saryn was wondering if there was a harvest season in Lornth, or if the people there just called the last half of an endless summer harvest. Zeldyan and the Lornian guards under Maerkyn were leading the way up the road. While Saryn had spent much of the time riding with the Lady Regent, for the last glass Saryn had ridden at the head of first squad, beside Hryessa.
“You’ve had a long face all day, ser,” Hryessa finally said.
“A lot on my mind,” replied Saryn.
“You worried about the guards, ser?”
“How couldn’t I be? We’re fighting in a civil war in a land where neither side is truly to our liking, just to prevent those who would be worse from taking over. To one side, we’re a necessary evil. To the other, we’re the horrible demons out of a near-legendary history.” It’s all to preserve something that’s not that good from something worse. It’s not building anything, not really, and fighting to preserve the less bad…Does it really accomplish anything?
Saryn glanced to her right, across the summer-dried marshes that separated the road from the River Yarth. She hadn’t seen a single boat or barge on the water all day. When they had ridden south from The Groves to Lornth, there had been all manner of craft on the river, headed in both directions. Now….
“Ser…do you see any of the new guards complaining? Even those in second squad where some got killed?”
Saryn laughed softly. “They wouldn’t complain to me.”
“They see us, and they see you…as something better. Almost all of the women with us here are from Lornth. Those from Gallos and Analeria aren’t complaining, either, and they’re not complaining behind my back or yours.”
Saryn offered a brief smile. “Do you really think we’ll change anything for the better? Here in Lornth?”
“If you save the Lady Regent, do you think she’s going to cross you?”
“She might not, but every time she does something that’s less traditional, or that might make things better for women, some lord-holder will complain.”
“Not if we get rid of the troublemakers now.”
Hryessa had a point, but it was a blade’s point, deciding by force. Saryn shook her head. Had any change in any society ever been accomplished without some form of force? “I don’t know. I worry about young Lord Nesslek. He still seems to think that men and size are what count.”
“Men are always impressed with size. Especially if it’s their own. In all manner of blades, it’s how it’s used, not how big it is.”
Saryn laughed in spite of her worries.
“Ser?” Hryessa’s smile vanished. “What will you do if the worst has already occurred?”
“We’ll have to find some way to destroy whoever did it. We can’t let a lord-holder who believes as the southerners do take power.”
“We have but one true company. We are worth two or three of theirs, but…”
“If…if that happens, we will have to see if some of the northern lords will join the fight. Otherwise…” Saryn shrugged. “We will have to try something else.” And who knows what that might be.
“You will find a way.” Hryessa nodded.
What sort of a way? At what cost? Saryn feared that Hryessa was all too likely to be proved right, but to speak of that to Zeldyan would suggest that Saryn had known early enough to prevent what might already have occurred. And a grief-stricken mother was all too likely to turn on Saryn if matters turned out for the worst and if Saryn had suggested it before the fact.
She might anyway, Saryn reminded herself.
LXXX
Slightly past midmorning on a oneday that seemed even hotter than the days before, Saryn was riding with Zeldyan behind the squad of Lornian armsmen who served as the vanguard of the force. Zeldyan kept shifting her weight in the saddle, easing her mount out to the shoulder of the river road and looking ahead, then returning to the center of the road under the warm morning sun. Ahead of them, both the road and the river swung to the north, angling through a low line of hills. Before that long, the road and river would twist back to the northeast toward Carpa, some twenty kays ahead.
Sensing the tension and concern that permeated the regent, Saryn said little, not wanting to make Zeldyan worry more and also not wanting to offer false encouragement.
“Why?” asked Zeldyan abruptly, speaking for the first time in over a glass. “Why have they turned against Nesslek? Why now?”
That question Saryn could answer. “Because they think they can, Lady, because the Suthyans are paying Henstrenn and others to do so, and because your presence reminds them of how wrong they have been. By overturning the regency and removing your son, they can blame you rather than their own failings. It has often been that way in many lands on many worlds.”
Zeldyan looked sharply at Saryn. “At times, I almost forget that you are an angel who has seen many worlds. Tell me, Angel, what awaits us.”
Saryn ignored the slight sarcastic edge to the regent’s question. “Other than lord-holders with bad judgment and a lust for power, I cannot say, Lady. I do not know when they left their holdings, how they proceeded, or how they intend to make their desires known. I do know that, what ever happens, Lornth will suffer far more than had they let the regency stand. I also know that is something that they will deny to their dying day.”
“May those days be soon.” Zeldyan tightened her lips and paused, before adding, “I still wish you angels had not come to the Roof of the World.”
“It was not our wish, either. We harmed no one until we were attacked. We took nothing of value, and nothing that anyone was able to use before we arrived. We were attacked because Lord Nessil and Lord Karthanos were too proud and too unwilling to let us hold land that no one wanted until we came. Each attack has cost those who attacked more, and wounded their pride more, and still they lash out where they can.”
“Your truths are cold comfort, Angel.”
“Truth has never offered comfort, Lady,” Saryn replied.
Once more, Zeldyan did not speak for a time. Then she said, “Have you ever loved?”
“Truly loved?” asked Saryn. “No…not really.”
“Has anyone truly loved you? Truly?” Zeldyan paused. “Sillek loved me that way, you know.”
“You were most fortunate in that.”
“Do angels love that way?”
Saryn had to think for a moment. Certainly, Ryba didn’t. But for all her feistiness, Hryessa did love Daryn. And Nylan…“Nylan, the one you call the black angel, and Ayrlyn love that way.”
“Was that not why they had to leave the Roof of the World?”
Was it? Saryn wasn’t certain that was all of it, although…She nodded. “Most likely.”
“The Roof of the World is cold in many ways, besides its ice, I fear.”
“It can be, Lady. Freedom is not always comfort.” Saryn frowned. There was something…somewhere…nagging at her. After a moment, she extended her senses. Ahead along the river, in the distance, perhaps where the road ran through the hills, she felt…riders…hundreds of men.
Quickly, she scanned the land immediately around them. The mostly dried-out and low swamps filled the two hundred or so yards to the right of the road between the raised roadbed and the River Yarth. Slight hummocks bordered the road on the west, but the tallest was but a yard or two above the roadbed.
She turned in the saddle. There was a small hill less than half a kay back, barely large enough to hide their force…and the wagons.