“I owe you once more,” said Zeldyan quietly.
“No…you don’t,” replied Saryn. “They wouldn’t have attacked you if I hadn’t come to Lornth.”
“If you had not come to Lornth, the same things would have happened, and I also would be dead. Like my son and my father.”
“You are kind, Lady.” Saryn was too tired to argue. “How long was I out?”
“Out?” asked Hryessa. “Oh…it is about a glass before sunset.”
“The same day? Fourday?”
“Of course.”
“Two, maybe three glasses,” Saryn murmured. “How is Dealdron?”
“He is in much pain, but he says nothing. He is in a small guest chamber. We did not touch his chest.”
Saryn stood, if slowly and deliberately, waiting to see if she felt dizzy. She did not. “I need to see him.”
“Commander…”
“He saved my life. I will see him.” Saryn walked slowly to the chamber doorway and into the corridor-where two guards stood, hands on the hilts of their blades.
“To the left, ser,” instructed Hryessa.
Saryn kept walking until she reached another door with two guards also stationed outside. She looked to Hryessa.
“We did not wish any of the dead Lornians’ friends to disturb him.” The captain paused. “I will wait here. He should see you both. It will ease his mind.”
Saryn opened the door and stepped inside. Zeldyan followed.
Dealdron lay on a bed narrower than the one on which Saryn had awakened but almost twice the width of a guard’s bunk. His left arm had been splinted, but his chest had not been bound. Saryn was glad for that, although she knew he would need some sort of brace before he could safely move, but she wanted to be there when he had his chest bound. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His eyes were open, but fixed overhead, almost unseeing.
Saryn stepped forward until she was standing beside the bed. Zeldyan moved up closer as well, to Saryn’s right.
“Dealdron,” Saryn said softly, “I’m here. Thank you.” What else could she say?
He blinked, then winced before speaking, slowly, as if each word were an effort. “I…overheard…knew they were up to something…told Klarisa to be ready…didn’t know for what…should have known…done more…tried…”
Even without trying, Saryn could sense the pain, but she had to know if she had done enough. Oh-so-carefully she extended the tiniest order-thread across his chest.
“…feels better…”
The worst of the chaos was gone, and his heart felt normal. As she began to feel dizzy, she released the probe, then laid a hand on his forehead. “You’ll be all right. Just try to sleep.”
“Are you…?”
“I’m fine, now, thanks to you.” She reached down and squeezed his good hand, gently.
“You are…my angel…Commander…” Dealdron closed his eyes, as if the words had taken every last bit of energy.
“Just rest…I’ll be back to see you later.” Saryn lifted her hand, turned, and walked slowly from the chamber.
You are my angel…my angel. His words rang in her ears…and in her thoughts.
“You care for him, do you not?” murmured Zeldyan.
“He’s never asked anything of me, except to please me. And he was willing to give his own life to save mine.”
“Would that there were more men like him.” Zeldyan paused. “Why is he so devoted to you?”
“I saved his life and challenged him to do his best at what he could.” What else could she say? And what was she going to do? For one thing, as soon as she’d recovered, she was going to make sure Dealdron healed-fully.
Then, she froze in place for a moment, recalling what Istril had said seasons before about understanding the price a woman might have to pay for any man who truly worshipped her. Can I pay that price? Should I?
She’d just have to see…as with everything else…But…somehow…she would.
XCIV
Three days passed before the pounding in Saryn’s head fully subsided and another before she could see normally. Part of that was because after two days, she’d used more order to help when the healer had bound and braced Dealdron’s chest.
Just before midmorning on oneday, she walked down the wide corridor toward the small study, where she was to meet Maeldyn. The stern-faced lord-holder had quietly requested a private meeting, one that Saryn wasn’t sure she was anticipating with any pleasure, much as she trusted Maeldyn.
The Lord of Quaryn stood by the door to the study, waiting for Saryn. “Good morning, Commander.” Maeldyn bowed, then gestured toward the open door. “Shall we?”
“Thank you.”
Maeldyn followed her inside, then closed the door and seated himself across the square table from Saryn.
“You had some concerns,” offered Saryn.
“Two eightdays from now, we are to meet in Lornth to discuss what to do about an overlord and the succession of various other lord-holders,” began Maeldyn.
Saryn nodded. “That was what we agreed upon.”
“Lord Henstrenn is dead, and so are Mortryd, Orsynn, Rherhn, Keistyn, Kelthyn, and Jaffrayt. And, of course, Lord Deolyn and Lord Gethen. Some of them, such as Henstrenn, Kelthyn, and Orsynn, do not even have male heirs, and there is no lord-holder of Rohrn. In fact, Kelthyn has no possible heirs whatsoever. What exactly, Angel Commander, do you intend?” Maeldyn looked almost guilelessly at Saryn.
“I was thinking of you, as a matter of fact.” Saryn was, but only to bring up his name and to determine her course from his reaction.
Maeldyn shook his head, if ruefully. “I am as vain as the next man, but I am not fool enough to think I would ever have the power to rule Lornth. Of equal import is that, while I love my son dearly, he would make a poor overlord. There is also the fact that I do not have the coins expected for such a position. Do not mention Spalkyn, for his son…”
“I know,” Saryn said quickly. “You are a man of judgment. Whom would you have as overlord?”
“You must realize, Angel, that any lord-holder of Lornth you name will be hated and thought a puppet of Westwind. That would also be true of anyone you found acceptable, even if you did not name such a person. Anyone you would not name or could not support would be an even worse Overlord of Lornth than those who have come before.”
“You’re saying that I can name no one? Am I supposed to turn Lornth over to the Suthyans or the Jeranyi?”
“I would not wish that on the worst of lord-holders…nor did I suggest it. You already act as much as an overlord.”
“That would not set well with many.” Almost none, from what I’ve seen so far. “Also, I don’t even have a consort, much less any children.”
“You still are young enough to have children, are you not?”
He’s serious, deadly serious. “I could have children, if I so desired, but why me?”
“Because the only one who can heal Lornth is someone powerful enough that no lord would even think of rebelling, and you are the only one in the land who is that strong.”
“You’re saying that only a tyrant can hold it together.”
“Can you think of anyone else? Even the Suthyans would hesitate to strike, knowing that Westwind would aid you. Was it accidental that you just happened to be in a position to halt and destroy the last Suthyan white wizard? Or that you did not even entertain surrender in dealing with most of the lord-holders?”
“I offered terms to a number of the lord-holders.” Not all, but a number. “They refused to consider them.”
“And the Suthyans? Would you have granted them terms had they asked?”
“No,” Saryn admitted. “I did not want any of them to return to Suthya.”
“Why might that be?”
“So that the Suthyan Council would think twice about sending mages or wizards against either Westwind or Lornth…and so that they would have fewer to send if they so decided.”