“Yes?” Saryn waited, although she had her own ideas.
“I’d recommend we let them go into Lornth, but only in groups of three.”
“Three?”
“It’s a mite harder to persuade two others to do something stupid than just one, and one or two guards might not be enough in some situations.”
“Three it is,” agreed Saryn, “but no more than three groups at any one time, unless both squads are here, and then it can be six, and not tonight. I need to tell the regent.”
“That’s fair.”
Dealing with the guards and their relations with the people of Lornth was likely to be far easier than dealing with the lord-holders, reflected Saryn. Far easier.
XLVI
Although Saryn rose early on oneday, soon after she started to wash up, her breakfast arrived, as if the chambermaid who delivered it had been waiting in the corridor and hurried down to the kitchen to fetch the tray. Saryn gulped the not-quite-warm fare down and finished dressing. She was in the courtyard before the barracks in time for the morning exercises that she and Hryessa had agreed to continue while they remained in the lowlands. She had just finished sparring with Hryessa-left-handed and using the weighted wands-when one of the palace armsmen hurried across the courtyard. Saryn stood back and waited.
“The Lady Zeldyan wished to inform you that Lord Henstrenn of Duevek will be paying her grace a visit at noon. The lady thought that you might wish to join her before he arrives.”
“You may tell Lady Zeldyan that I will be most pleased to join her.”
“Yes, Commander.” The armsman bowed, then turned and hurried off, clearly pleased to be away from Saryn and the Westwind contingent.
“The Lord of Duevek? The same bastard whose men attacked us the last time?” asked Hryessa, blotting her damp forehead.
“The very same.” Saryn frowned. Zeldyan had suggested that Saryn and the guards make Duevek their first visit, and they had planned to leave Lornth on fourday. Now…Henstrenn was already approaching Lornth. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Undercaptain Maerkyn.”
Finding the undercaptain wasn’t all that difficult since he was in the duty room of the first barracks, sitting in a straight-backed chair, his boots on a bench. He bolted to his feet so quickly that his fine black hair, short as it was, sprayed out from his scalp for an instant, and Saryn wondered how she ever could have thought he resembled the blond-haired and diligent Dealdron. “Yes, Commander?” His eyes took in Saryn’s sweat-damp working uniform for just a moment before he looked back directly into Saryn’s eyes…then away.
“Undercaptain, I am not all that certain as to how messages are carried from the regents. I thought you would be able to enlighten me.” Saryn not only watched the young officer but concentrated her senses on him. All she could feel was concern and puzzlement.
“The regents have a squad of couriers here at the palace.”
“A courier carried Lady Zeldyan’s message to me to Westwind. Was that courier one of the armsmen from the palace?”
“Yes, ser.”
“To whom do they report?”
“They all report directly to Overcaptain Gadsyn.”
“And you’re in charge of the other company of armsmen here now?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Who commands the company at The Groves?”
“That’s Captain Tuulyr, ser.”
“So Overcaptain Gadsyn is in charge of all the armsmen and couriers?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Were you the one who gave the message to the courier?”
“Yes, ser…but it was sealed, ser.”
Saryn could sense the truth…and a certain growing anger within the undercaptain. “And it arrived sealed, as it should have. Who was the courier? Is he here in Lornth?”
“Klaemyn, ser, and he’s on the roster for today.”
“We need to talk to armsman Klaemyn.”
“Courier Klaemyn, ser.”
“If you would lead the way…”
Saryn didn’t have far to walk, because the chamber that Saryn would have called the couriers’ ready room was in the same barracks, except at the far east end, nearest the gates.
There were three couriers in the room. Two were polishing their brass, and the third was doing something with his scabbard. All three straightened. “Ser!”
“Maesyn, Zubael…you two can take a walk for a while,” said Maerkyn.
The remaining courier, one of the two who had been working on his brass, stiffened. He looked older than the other two and vaguely familiar to Saryn, but she couldn’t have sworn that he was the one who had delivered Zeldyan’s message. Like Maerkyn had been, he was worried but puzzled, and Saryn could sense his questioning as to what he might have done wrong.
“You were the one selected to ride to Westwind, weren’t you?”
The courier/armsman looked to Maerkyn. The undercaptain nodded. “You’re to answer the commander’s questions.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Where did you stop on the way to Westwind?”
“Just at the way stations, ser. We were told to make haste.”
“I’m curious, Klaemyn. Who were your escorts when you rode to Westwind this last time?”
“Daelyst, Reagor, and Salastyn, ser. They’re with the undercaptain’s company.” The courier went on quickly. “We always have armsmen for the longer runs, where it might be difficult to deliver a message without armsmen.”
“I can see that.”
“You were the one I gave the message to, ser. You remember that, don’t you?”
Saryn could sense the truth there. “I do, and there’s no question that you delivered the missive directly to me. Did you stop only at way stations on the return?”
“Except once, ser. Daelyst said that we could stop at Lord Henstrenn’s on the way back, that he knew the undercaptain of the armsmen there. The timing was right, and we needed a place to sleep, and we’re allowed to stop at holders’ keeps. Lord Henstrenn’s armsmen welcomed us right well. We had a good supper, and a good breakfast.” Klaemyn shook his head. “Last really good meal for Daelyst, poor fellow.”
“Poor fellow?” asked Saryn.
“He started feeling poorly the next day, and he fell out of the saddle dead the day after, just as we were getting near Lornth, almost back. It must have been a flux or something. That’s what the local healer said in the nearest hamlet.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” replied Saryn, and she was, but not because she cared greatly for the dead courier. “Do you recall the name of the undercaptain at Duevek?”
“Branslyd. That was what Daelyst said.”
“Undercaptain Branslyd,” mused Saryn, trying to fix the name in her mind, before she asked, “You never let anyone else see or touch the message I gave you?”
“No, ser! We’re not allowed to do that. I even slept with it, ser.”
“Did you sleep well at Duevek?”
The slightest frown crossed Maerkyn’s face, but the undercaptain said nothing.
“Yes, ser. Good bunks, good food…the best night’s rest on the whole run.”
Saryn nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”
Once they were well away from the courier’s standby room and back in the duty chamber, Maerkyn looked at Saryn. “Ser, might I ask…?”
“You might, but I’m not at liberty to say. Not yet. Not until I talk to Lady Zeldyan.”
“You don’t think-”
“So far, Undercaptain,” began Saryn, trying to speak formally and indirectly, rather than bluntly, “I have no reason to believe that you or any of those currently under your command did anything improper or disloyal. I doubt that anything I discover will change that. That does not mean that others have not done so, unfortunately.”
As Maerkyn took in her words, Saryn could sense his remaining anger being replaced by a mixture of concern and curiosity. Finally, he asked, “Might I ask why Westwind is so concerned about the regency?”
“It’s very simple, Undercaptain. We like neighbors who are friendly. We get concerned when those rulers who are friendly find themselves in difficulty, particularly when those who are creating the difficulty appear to be far less friendly to Westwind. In short, we’d prefer to help our friends rather than having to fight those who might supplant them.”