“Why is he pressing so hard?”
Istril laughed. “He may not be educated, but he’s far from stupid. He watched a squad of guards destroy his outfit with only one fatality, while you dispatched three of them, and you’ve told him that his life depends on how well he acts. He’s clearly a survivor, and to survive means obtaining your approval and the Marshal’s. For him, that means doing things of value. I think your approval means more to him, though.”
“Mine?”
“He asks more about you and whether you’d approve.”
“But Ryba makes the final decisions.”
“For this culture, she seems too high for him to impress her. He also sees that you make the day-to-day decisions.”
“What about Adiara?”
“She’s not a problem.”
“Are you suggesting that Dealdron could be?”
Istril shrugged. “I don’t know. On the positive side, Aemra likes him, and she’s got a good feel for people.”
“He’s too old for her.”
“Not that way. He’s more like an older brother who needs a little direction. Sometimes, Dyliess and Kyalynn help him, too. They’ve decided he needs lessons in Temple.”
“Why?”
“They have this idea that, if they can teach him Temple, that will shame some of the newer guards into learning it.”
“I doubt that will work.”
Istril shook her head. “It just might. The trio can be very persuasive, in their own manner of doing things. Dyliess has her mother’s steel and her father’s stubbornness and charm.”
Saryn hadn’t recalled Nylan as being charming although he certainly hadn’t been obnoxious.
“You never looked, Commander,” Istril said quietly. “He could be quite charming if anyone showed the least interest. He cared more than most saw. That was another reason why he had to leave.”
“You’re right. I never saw that.”
“It was there. It’s rare in men, but there are some who have it. Not many.”
“Would you…if he’d stayed?”
Istril shook her head. “He’s the kind who invests in one woman, and that woman is everything. Women say that they want that in a man. Most don’t, not really. They want to be worshipped that way, but the cost of that is too high. It doesn’t work over time if they don’t love in return. I couldn’t have. The Marshal never did.”
“Ayrlyn did?”
“She did. That was why I could let Weryl leave. I could see that.”
“Do you ever see…the way Ryba does?”
“I get glimpses. He’s happy.”
Saryn could see the brightness in the healer’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“That’s all right. You’ll understand.”
It wasn’t until Saryn had left the lower level and was riding down to check on the sawmill and the kilns that the oddity of Istril’s last words struck her. The healer hadn’t said that Saryn did understand, but that she would.
Just what else had Istril foreseen? Could Saryn persuade her to reveal more?
XX
Over the next two days, Saryn felt as though she ran from organizing one thing to another, but late on threeday afternoon, she finally headed up the stone staircase of Tower Black to check a last time with Ryba.
Just before she reached the open door, the Marshal said, “Come in, Saryn.”
When the arms-commander entered, Ryba was standing by the open window. She half turned. “I’m assuming that you’ve briefed Llyselle and Murkassa. You’re leaving early?”
“I did. We’ll leave before sunrise. I’m taking four spare mounts. They’re from the Gallosians, and we’ll use them as pack animals as well.”
Ryba pursed her lips. “I’ve thought it over. You’d better take half of Hryessa’s second squad as well. You can work that out, can’t you?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Ryba stepped forward and extended a leather wallet. “There are twenty golds’ worth of coins there. About half is in silvers. I’d like to send more, but that’s all we can spare right now. Lady Zeldyan and the regents should be hospitable enough that you’ll only need the coins while you’re traveling.”
Saryn took the leather wallet, slipping it into the inside pocket of her jacket. “Besides a commitment for saltpeter and sulfur, and the other useful goods, what else do we need?”
“You know the goods. See what you can discover about Kelthyn…and Ser Gethen’s health. Find out what you can about Deryll. It could prove useful to you in some fashion.”
“Ildyrom’s son? Do we know anything about him except his parentage?”
“He was successful in eliminating or besting all his brothers.”
“He’s ruthless, or clever, or lucky. Beyond that?”
“He wants the western part of Lornth back as part of Jerans, and he’s doubtless building the forces to take it. That’s all we know.”
“What about white wizards?”
“Zeldyan doesn’t have any. Not unless one has appeared in the past year or so, and that’s most unlikely. The engineer took care of all of those who served Lord Sillek. The Suthyans probably have some, but who knows where any who survived the fall of Cyador might be?”
“Is there anything else you want me to convey to Lady Zeldyan and her coregents?”
“Not directly. The information about Suhartyn’s veiled proposals, and your presence should be enough. Try not to stay too long.” Ryba’s faint and ironic smile conveyed the sense that she knew Saryn’s reply before the arms-commander spoke.
“I have no desire to stay a moment longer than necessary. It’s already going to be hot and sticky down there, and most of the towns will stink.” And I’ll miss the cleanliness and showers here at Tower Black, not to mention the clean mountain air.
Ryba nodded. “It will do you good to see the men of Lornth as well.”
Saryn flinched inside, but she only said, “They’ll likely be just as over-bearing as the Gallosians, except not quite so overtly.”
“If you’re fortunate.”
This time, Saryn nodded. “Is that all?”
“That’s all. If I think of anything else, I’ll tell you at supper or in the morning when I see you off.” Ryba turned back to the window, her eyes veiled.
As Saryn walked slowly down the stone steps, she thought over Ryba’s words and expressions. The Marshal had seemed distracted, and yet focused and removed, all at the same time. And she looked more drawn. But was she, or had it happened over time, and Saryn hadn’t noticed the gradual change?
When she reached the lowest level of the tower, Saryn found both Siret and Istril in sickbay, and both were silent, as if they had heard her boots on the stone steps and were waiting. “My ears are burning,” the commander said lightly. “Exactly what were you discussing? Or should I ask what you were saying about me?”
“We were talking about the Gallosian,” replied Siret. “Aemra has taken an interest in his carving. He’s actually done several good copies of the Westwind crest on new bunks. That created a problem.”
“Oh?”
“Everyone wanted one. So we switched them for your bunk and mine and Siret’s,” said Istril. “No one could complain about the angels getting them.”
Saryn hadn’t exactly approved carving the crest on bunks all over the tower. Was Dealdron going to be like so many men and push every limit?
“You did say crests were acceptable,” Istril said.
“What about the one he did of the ryall?” Saryn sensed something was going on.
“He did three of those,” said Siret blandly.
“Three?”
“Aemra persuaded him to.”
“So the trio each have flowers? Flowers?” asked Saryn.
“They are wildflowers.” Istril grinned.
Saryn shook her head. “I don’t believe it. You…”
“They’re only girls,” said Siret.