which carried them to the mill. The mill cut them according to need, and Arne determined the need himself— whether for rough planks, finished lumber for building, or carefully finished boards of selected rare woods for use at the court. The wood was placed in a drying kiln if it was needed quickly or air dried if it was not.
Deline continued to share his bed each night. She waited until darkness fell, and then, a lithe shadow, she flitted to the top of the town and slipped into the First Server’s dwelling.
The daez became tenites; the tenites a mont. Arne gave as much time as he could spare to his two new responsibilities—his tiny army and his assistant. The army responded with eager enthusiasm. Deline worried him because she continued to hold herself apart from this new life that was happening around her.
But she did her work well, and she soon learned the customs of the village. She managed her love affair with Arne so deftly that no rumor of it circulated. Probably some villagers suspected it—love affairs were always suspected—but the villagers practiced discretion in their own lives and respected it in the lives of others. The only things gossiped about were those that were done openly.
When Deline had finished the most important prentice assignments, she was able to spend more time with Arne during the day. They became co-workers and colleagues, and Arne marveled at how quickly she learned and how well she worked with him.
Late one afternoon they went out together in response to a report of road damage. Walking back in the gathering dusk, Arne discussed the repairs and how they should be made. He would go at once, he said, and requisition a crew of no-namers so work could begin early the next morning.
Deline said suddenly, “The land warden told me you ran the peerdom. I thought he was joking. Now I understand what he meant. I was a fool to think anyone who works as hard as you do—as hard as all the one- namers do—could be plotting treason. When would any of you have the time?”
“Plotters find the time,” Arne said. “I suppose no one bothered to tell you treason is an important concern of mine.”
She turned and stared at him.
“I am responsible for one-namers’ loyalty throughout the peerdom,” Arne said. “I also am expected to keep an eye on no-namers and lashers. As you know, it can be extremely easy to corrupt a naive prentice.”
“You mean—you found out—”
“Of course. I found out at once. He was a clumsy spy, but he illustrates why we must be constantly on the lookout for traitors. From time to time one of the other peerdoms sends an agent to Midlow—ostensibly on a legitimate errand but actually to recruit spies when no one is looking. His peer suspects Midlow is conspiring against her, or perhaps his peerdom has some plot of its own to advance. We also suspect the Peer of Lant of recruiting spies in all of the Ten Peerdoms, and that is much more serious. We must watch for treason constantly.”
“We are a long way from Lant. Why would its peer want spies here?”
“The Peer of Lant wants to conquer the world—which includes Midlow.”
She was silent for a time. Then she said, “With all of that going on, I accused you, the person responsible for preventing treason—”
“Even when I find someone behaving suspiciously, I find it dangerous to take action in such matters without first investigating carefully. It is so easy to accuse an innocent person—and so difficult to make amends.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It is dangerous.”
The realization that she would remain an outsider for sikes pained him. One-namers accepted her, but they wouldn’t trust her until she had been tested by time. Arne, too, though his love for her gradually became a certainty, was unable to trust her completely. He couldn’t tell her about the secret rooms in the houses at the top of the village, for example, or about the cache of food in his garden. In that respect, she remained a renegade peerager.
He would never be able to share the Great Secret with her, the work in the ruins. Not even his most trusted one-name friends were aware of that.
The Easlon scout finally arrived. It was Bernal, whom Arne already knew. Inskor sent his apologies for the delay. Bernal was the scout best qualified to train an army, but he had been far to the south when Arne’s request came.
The two of them talked through the night. Arne had been trying to learn how the Peer of Lant organized her armies. Egarn knew something about military theory and could tell him how armies had been organized in the past—he’d had officer training himself as a young man—but he had paid no attention at all to Lant’s military establishment.
Bernal knew all about the Lantiff. Together they compared the system Egarn had described with the one Lant was using and considered what should be done to build an army quickly and efficiently.
“The Peer of Lant’s conquests have come more slowly since Egarn tricked her,” Bernal said, “but they are none the less certain, and her army keeps growing. She simply overwhelms her opponents. She never hurries. Each victory makes her stronger, and she has long hoped that her len grinders would eventually devise a weapon to take the place of the one she lost.”
He turned and met Arne’s inquiring gaze firmly. “Now they have done so. She has a weapon of her own.”
The fragile hope of Arne’s little army vanished in the sudden chill that he felt. “That alters all of our strategy,” he said slowly.
“Ah—but Lant doesn’t have
“Then we still have an advantage.”
“For the present. No doubt her servers will try to improve this new weapon, and they may succeed. They may even produce one more devastating than Egarn’s, but the one they have is more valuable for the battles they are fighting now. It doesn’t kill. When the defeated lashers recover, they find themselves in the army of Lant. The peer’s army is growing faster than ever. I brought two of her new weapons for Egarn to see.”
He passed two small tubes to Arne.
“How did you get them?” Arne asked.
Bernal smiled. “Lant made the mistake of attacking the Peerdom of Ramor. Ramor has an unusual peer— she is willing to learn and able to take advice. We set a trap and annihilated most of an army. The Peer of Lant hadn’t encountered Egarn’s weapon since we closed the passes. She had got careless. Now she will proceed with extreme caution for a time. In the past, time gained from her caution hasn’t meant very much, but if the Ten Peerdoms can actually make use of it to build their own army, the future suddenly begins to look brighter.”
“What do we need to do?” Arne asked.
“You are doing it. You are doing everything that needs to be done—everything except one, persuade the other peerdoms to help, and Inskor thinks you will do that, too. Inskor is especially pleased that you are adding no-namers to your army. Lines of defense require huge amounts of work, and we need several of them so we can inflict a series of losses on the Lantiff before they reach our border.”
“Is the attack certain?”
“The Peer of Lant is elderly. She may not be menacing the world for many more sikes, but while she lives, her wars will continue. We have been trying to assassinate her. We killed two of Lant’s top generals, but thus far the peer has managed to protect herself. I am looking forward to seeing Egarn again.”
“I will take you to him now,” Arne said. “Then I will introduce you to your army.”
Suddenly everything was on a dizzying upswing. Arne had a brief interview with the dying peer and a longer one with the prince and the land warden. Things had returned to normal in Midlow, and he could be spared for a mission to the other peerdoms. Deline had done so well that he could temporarily leave his routine duties to her. As a buffer against one-namers who might still be resentful of her, he gave her an assistant, Hutter, his young prentice surveyor.
He knew he would miss her desperately. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him that they were still lovers; unlike the village girls, she had no reason to resent the long, uncertain hours he worked and his frequent absences. She shared his work with him and traveled about the peerdom with him, and they were able to steal delicious moments from the cares and humdrum routine of running a peerdom.
