Lornth
XLII
Saryn had started down the steps to the main hall before dawn on eightday, when she heard Ryba’s voice from above her on the stone staircase. “Saryn…I’d like a word with you…”
Saryn headed up to the top level of Tower Black, where Ryba waited, fully dressed.
“Come in and close the door.”
Saryn did so. Ryba stood by the circular table and looked at Saryn. “I have not said too much to you about what you must do in Lornth. That is because I do not know so much as I would like. I cannot tell you how vital it is that you do not hazard yourself unnecessarily. You can sacrifice guards if you must, but without you, Westwind will have nothing.” Ryba’s lips quirked into an ironic grin. “Needless to say, such an unnecessary sacrifice would not benefit you, either. One way or another, Lornth will not survive in its present form. The old lord-holders who will not abandon their male-only traditions will have to be crushed, or they will destroy the regency. The regency may not last in any case, but whoever or what ever rules Lornth must not include the tradition-bound holders, or we will be at war within a handful of years.”
“Even with the devastation there, and what is likely to come?”
“If they survive, they will seek to blame us and plunder Westwind for what crumbs they can find. We do not need another war.”
“So…you’re sending me as much for Westwind as because I pledged.”
“More for Westwind. I respect your honor, but my goal has always been to change Candar so that there are places where women have at least equal rights and power compared to men. Without Westwind and what you must do, that cannot happen.”
Ryba’s words scarcely surprised Saryn. “I think I always knew that.”
There was a moment of silence before Ryba spoke again. “Saryn…no matter what you think, I do wish the best for you.”
Those words and, even more, the clear feeling of truth behind them did surprise Saryn. “Thank you.”
“You’d best get something to eat. You have a long journey ahead of you.” Ryba paused. “One last thing, and it is advice you will not like. To succeed you will need to be more ruthless than any man, for only then will they respect you.”
“I hope it does not come to that.”
“It will. It always does.” Ryba stepped forward and opened the door.
Saryn nodded, then departed, heading down to the main hall to eat.
Less than a glass later, she was mounted and at the head of her small force, reined up on the road outside Tower Black where it met the causeway.
“Is everything set?” Saryn looked to Hryessa.
While Saryn would have liked to have checked every guard’s gear personally, she knew that doing so would have undermined her subordinate-unnecessarily, since Hryessa was every bit as meticulous as Saryn herself. The arms-commander glanced back at the wagons waiting behind fourth squad. Both were in far better condition than when she had brought them back to Westwind, as were the two drays pulling them.
“Yes, ser. We’re ready to head out. We made the transfers you approved for the two with small children, and that took care of anyone who shouldn’t really be going to Lornth.”
Saryn nodded. She’d told the guard captain that they might end up stuck in Lornth over the winter if things did not go well. “How does Daryn feel about your going to Lornth?”
“He hasn’t said. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t like it. I can tell.” Hryessa shrugged. “I told him you needed me, and the Marshal said so. That means he has to stay and take care of Elaya and Ryntyr. He’s good with them. That’s not a problem. He’s tended some of the other young ones, too, when it was necessary. He’s a good man.”
Saryn looked across the causeway. Standing just outside the door to Tower Black was a small group of people, among them Daryn and Hryessa’s son and daughter, and four other familiar figures-the three silver-haired girls and Dealdron. Ryba was not among those seeing the detachment off, but Saryn would not have expected that of the Marshal.
Elaya and Ryntyr waved to their mother, and Hryessa blew them each a kiss, then flicked the reins of her mount. “Company! Forward!”
Saryn took a last glance at Tower Black and the handful of people standing before it on the causeway.
Dealdron looked at Saryn, his gaze steady, but she could not sense what lay behind his eyes, only that it was not hatred or anything like it. Wistfulness? Why would he be wistful? She offered a pleasant smile, then eased the chestnut gelding forward, wondering how long it might be before she saw the tower again.
XLIII
Unlike her last travels, when she returned from the battle with the Gallosians, Saryn found the descent from the Roof of the World to the hills of eastern Lornth both quick and uneventful. Less than five days later, she and her detachment rode into Henspa just before sunset. Essin the innkeeper was waiting on the porch of the Black Bull.
“I thought we’d not be seeing you again so soon, Angel.”
“I didn’t think so, either. How is your mother?” Saryn asked Essin.
“Much better, and I thank you for that. She would like to talk to you, I’m certain, once you’ve seen to your guards.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“And she’d be pleased. There are not that many who come to Henspa these days.”
“Have you seen any more Suthyans?” asked Saryn.
“Not a one, and only a sole Jeranyi trader, taking the long way back, telling tales of how the Great Forest grows vaster day and night, swallowing up whole towns, but leaving a village here and a village there.”
“Why was he there?”
“Like all Jeranyi, he was a thief. Like as not, he hoped to glean riches from the ruins, and two fine wagons he had. Jersen said that he had a pair of cupridium blades.”
“Cupridium?” Saryn had never heard that word.
“Silvery metal harder than cold iron and more flexible than copper. That’s what the old Mirror Lancers used, back in the time of Lorn the Mighty and his son, Kerial.”
“Lorn the Mighty? Was Lornth named after him?”
“So they say. Anyway, Marleu wouldn’t let her father even think of purchasing the blades. Said cupridium belonged to the past and wouldn’t stand up to the black iron of the angels. Smart woman she is.” Essin shook his head.
“I’d best tend to my mount,” Saryn said. “Then I’ll be back to talk to your mother.”
She flicked the reins and rode slowly past the inn and up the narrow lane into the rear courtyard and the stables. More than half a glass passed before she’d finished grooming the gelding and going over matters with Hryessa and could make her way back through the inn to put her gear in the room she’d share with the guard captain.
When she came down the steps, Essin was waiting in the foyer. “Ma’s on the front porch. She says it’s cooler there.”
The white-haired Jennyleu turned her head as Saryn stepped out onto the covered porch. “You’ve changed, Angel.”
“Not that much,” demurred Saryn.
“Your eyes are silver, like they’d reflect what’s inside folk, and there’s a seriousness there. Why did you come back?” A smile lingered on the old woman’s face as she shifted her weight on the chair beside the bench in the twilight.
“The regents requested that I return,” Saryn said, settling onto the bench, facing Jennyleu.
“The Lady Zeldyan needs you, as does her sire, but all the other lord-holders will fear you. Especially the Lord of Duevek.”
“We will take the longer route to Lornth and avoid Duevek. I do not wish to create more problems for the regents.”
“Ah…but you will. Even an old woman such as I can see that.”
Saryn laughed gently. “You see it because you are a woman of much experience.”
The white-haired woman snorted. “Doesn’t take much experience to see that the old lord-holders’d be looking for a ruler who’d let them line their own purses. Young Nesslek like as not would be following his mother and his grandsire once he becomes overlord, or he’d be questioning the lord-holders as to why he shouldn’t. Neither would they like.”