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“You’ve changed.”

“Changed? What do you mean?”

“You’re more ordered. More black than chaos. Except that’s not right…they almost flow around you in ordered patterns.”

“What does that mean?”

“You already know that the more black you are, the harder it will be for you in battle, among other things. You’ve tried to avoid changing, and you have been successful, more than any other. But you’ve finally changed, and you look…you feel…different.”

Saryn smiled wryly. “You wouldn’t be telling me that if you didn’t have something in mind. What’s happened here that Ryba isn’t likely to tell me?”

“Besides the score or so of Gallosian scouts that have vanished? Or her trips up into the ice fields? Or the forty-odd Analerian women and their daughters who appeared last eightday?”

“Forty? Is Arthanos conducting some sort of purge in Analeria?”

“According to several of the women, he discovered that women actually serve as village elders and several village chiefs are women. One of them was killed because she had the temerity to be overheard by a Gallosian officer saying that she didn’t understand what all the fuss was about Westwind. The other villages nearby petitioned Karthanos to recompense the village, and Arthanos responded by burning them all to the ground.”

“Did they bring anything but the clothes on their backs?”

“You sound like Ryba.”

“I don’t mean to, but…”

Istril sighed. “Ten of them had burns that had gotten infected. One died. We saved the others. Seven or eight might make good guards with training, and most of the girls look healthy. There are fifteen girls and five boys, but none of the boys are over five. Arthanos had something to do with that. He captured the youths and men and killed any who wouldn’t join his army.”

“He sounds as bad as the Rationalists. Worse, actually.”

Istril just smiled sadly.

“You don’t think so?”

“We have a lot of time, especially at night, to think, Commander. I’ve thought a lot. Most rulers believe what they do is for the best. It might be best for themselves, or it might be best for what they believe in. Or for the people. Or for what ever god there is. Not many people do anything just to do it badly.”

“You don’t think there’s a difference between rulers?”

“Of course there is. Some are effective, and some are not. Ryba’s effective. Lord Sillek was not. Arthanos appears to be quite effective in raising an army. Ryba will be effective in destroying it. The Suthyans will be effective in profiting off everyone’s misery.”

“You’re saying that Lord Sillek didn’t believe enough in attacking us?”

“What do you think, Commander? You’ve been to Lornth. I haven’t.”

“His widow seemed to think he had doubts. Is that what it’s all about? To be effective, you have to believe in what you’re doing? To the point that it costs everyone around you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just thought about it a lot.”

“Maybe that’s why tyrants are effective,” Saryn said. “Because their beliefs are so important that they let nothing stand in their way. But is that the way things should be?”

Istril said nothing.

“Or is it just the way matters have to be?” Saryn didn’t want to think about that, not as tired as she was. “How are all the injured and wounded?”

“No one’s been hurt seriously since you left, except for the refugee women. Dealdron’s healing well. His leg is in a walking splint. You probably ought to talk to him tomorrow, after you talk to Siret.”

“Now what?”

“Siret can explain better than I can. It’s not that kind of problem. He works hard, and he works long. He doesn’t argue, and he always wants to do better.”

“Then…what?”

“It’s late, Commander. Could the three of us talk tomorrow?”

“That might be better,” Saryn conceded, even as she wondered what the problem could possibly be. Still, the fact that she couldn’t even guess suggested she wasn’t thinking clearly and that Istril was right about waiting to talk it over until the next day.

XXIX

Saryn rose early on sixday and sought out Llyselle because she wanted a full briefing on what had happened in her absence. The guard captain was leaving the kitchen, where she’d obviously grabbed something to eat before starting her day.

“I thought I’d see you early, ser,” mumbled Llyselle, after swallowing the last of a biscuit.

“It might be a good idea if you briefed me.” Saryn gestured toward the archway that led into the carpentry shop since she could tell that the shop was empty at the moment, although she had the feeling someone had been there not too long before.

Llyselle followed her, and once they were out of easy earshot, stopped and began to report. “The Gallosians have been sending scouts toward the three approaches to Westwind. I won’t say that we’ve gotten all of them, but we’ve added almost another thirty of those crowbar blades to the trading/iron stockpile. I sent Siret and a squad down lower. The Gallosians are gathering wagons and setting up a staging base not that far below the entrance to the north pass. All the refugees have been avoiding the usual passes and coming up over the southern hills, the way that leads from Analeria, even those that aren’t from there…”

Saryn listened for a time before asking, “How long do you think before they’ll set out?”

“They’re planning a major campaign. At least two eightdays, maybe three or four.”

Saryn thought about sending a squad to harass the staging camp with arrows, but that was likely just to waste shafts. Better to save those for when they could make every one count. “How is the training coming for the new guards?”

“Slow. Too many of them are here because they have no place else to go, not because they want to be here.”

“They can’t be encouraged to head to Lornth?”

“They’re mostly Analerians. They think Lornth’s as bad as Gallos.”

Saryn sighed. She should have realized that after what Istril had said the night before. “That’s going to be a problem.”

“We’re overcrowded. Most of them are in the stables for now, and that’s fine for the moment, but when the weather turns in the fall…”

“Can we turn them to doing something on the new barracks and keep?”

“Siret has a bunch of them hauling stones…and there’s one who actually knows something about masonry. But the rest…” Llyselle shook her head. “They’re farmers, and half of what they know won’t work on the Roof of the World.”

Saryn wondered if what Dealdron knew about masonry was enough to be helpful. She’d have to ask him. “They’ll have to learn or freeze.” Then she shook her head. “No one has the time to teach them more than the minimum now, not until we deal with the Gallosians. Have your guards continue to keep a close eye on the Gallosians. For the moment, that’s all we can do. I should know more in a day or so.” Saryn hoped that was so.

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn followed Llyselle’s example of grabbing several biscuits from the kitchen before checking the armory, as well as running a quick inspection of the tower. Before all that long, she was out on the arms field limbering up with all the other guards. After Istril’s comments of the night before, Saryn positioned herself so that she could watch Dealdron. No sooner was she in place than Ryba joined her.

The Marshal said nothing, and Saryn could still watch Dealdron. The young Gallosian now wore a bulky brace and splint on his leg and was able to do a much wider range of exercises. He did each precisely, yet with a certain awkwardness that suggested that they were not yet habit.

The sparring sessions followed, and Saryn squared off against the Marshal. She was on the defensive, possibly because she kept trying to watch Dealdron. She was startled, but not exactly surprised to find that the trio of silver-haired girls had taken on the duty of instructing Dealdron. As she continued to catch glimpses, one after another of the three worked with Dealdron, and not a one showed him favors or mercy. If anything, they pressed him more than would have been usual for an inexperienced guard. The only mercy they showed was not striking his injured leg.