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It sounds as though they forced Lord Sillek to overreach himself, Nylan
said.
Everyone only wanted him to do the honorable thing. Zeldyan s voice was
overly sweet.
Gethen cleared his throat.
We are sorry& began Ayrlyn. It must be painful&
Nylan recalled his speculations about Sillek-that the man had been too
decent for his own good and forced into an impossible situation. It appeared
those speculations had been closer to truth than he had realized. Was trying
to be good, decent, and even-handed always a formula for failure in
government? Ryba would have said so.
We cannot change the past, Zeldyan said, even if it be painful.
The future be the question, Gethen added.
Do you know where the Cyadorans are? Nylan asked, his fingers on the
goblet.
The white demons have taken the mines, Gethen said, as I thought they
would. We received the message yesterday from Fornal in Rohrn. He writes of
his concerns. They crossed the Grass Hills and brought more lancers and foot
than have been seen in Lornth in generations.
I believe I d be concerned also, said Nylan. Did they bring any of their
horseless wagons or anything like that?
No. They brought no strange devices, not that our scouts have reported.
Zeldyan served herself some of the creamy curry, filled with chunks of meat,
before passing the platter to Nylan. Then she broke off the end of one loaf of
bread and passed that.
Nylan s eyes watered from the aroma of the curry as he served himself.
How are you finding Sylenia? asked the older regent.
She seems very nice, answered Nylan. She and Weryl get along.
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You would not consider leaving him in my care? asked Zeldyan. I would
treat him as my own.
You are most kind, Nylan said, but who knows how long we will be
wherever we end up?
I understand. Zeldyan nodded. I do not like leaving Nesslek. I am glad I
am not in your boots. She turned to Ayrlyn. Have you any ideas how you might
assist us in removing the white demons?
Well, answered the redhead, with a slight laugh, since it appears
unlikely they will leave voluntarily, we ll have to find a way to make life
unpleasant. That usually means a better way to slaughter people. I don t look
forward to it.
For people reputed to be so warlike, you seem to dislike killing, said
Gethen.
Most people respond only to force, Nylan said. That s the way it is, and
I d be a fool not to accept that. I don t have to like it.
That is why you are so dangerous. Gethen shook his head. That is why
Sillek would have been a great lord.
A faint smile crooked Zeldyan s lips.
Perhaps he was, suggested Ayrlyn. Most great leaders die before their
greatness is known, or they re hated while they re alive because they want to
change things.
An awkward silence settled over the table.
How effective has Fornal been in raising armsmen? asked Nylan, abruptly,
breaking off another chunk of the dark bread, and refraining from wiping his
damp forehead.
He will have twenty score in levies, and a quarter of that more in true
armsmen, said Gethen.
And how many Cyadorans are there? asked the engineer.
We do not know for certain, but between five and ten times that number.
The gray-haired regent smiled grimly. That is why we had hoped you might
help.
Nylan nodded. Gethen didn t want help; he wanted divine intervention, and
Nylan hadn t the faintest idea of how to get it, only that he and Ayrlyn had
to figure out something.
He glanced to his right and saw Ayrlyn nod, ever so slightly.
It could be an interesting year, she said quietly.
Gethen and Zeldyan exchanged glances, before Zeldyan lifted the brown
pitcher. Would you like some more of the wine?
A little, answered Nylan.
Please, followed Ayrlyn.
The smith took another sip, wondering how a land that could create such
good wine had gotten itself in such a mess.
LV
THRAP!
In the gray light of predawn, Nylan lowered the wide-bladed razor he was
using to shave and glanced over his shoulder toward the bedchamber, catching
sight of Weryl. The boy stood and held on to the brass-bound chest, rocking
his weight back and forth as though he wanted to take a step.
Ah dah dah ah&
A slight breeze stirred the room, bearing the odor of damp grass and the
slight fragrance of some unknown flower-both sharp in the air cleaned by the
night s thunderstorms. A small puddle of water lay beneath the open window.
Thrap!
Can you get that? he asked.
I m throwing something on, master of the bath chamber, snapped Ayrlyn.
Sorry. Do you want me&
I ll get it.
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At the sound of the door opening, Nylan lifted the crude razor to finish
shaving, concentrating on not slashing himself. He finished as quickly as he
could and washed hastily, trying to ignore the cock with the off-key crowing
that seemed perched on the wall directly below their open window.
Zeldyan sent these up with breakfast, Ayrlyn said as Nylan stumbled from
the washroom. She held up trousers, shirt, and tunic, all in dark gray.
There s a set for me as well. They seem to be to our measurements.
The smith shook his head. Why now?
So we couldn t exactly refuse. It also reflects on the regents, I suspect,
if we re poorly clothed. Ayrlyn offered a tight smile. I m sure we ll pay
for the garments.
You would put it that way. Nylan lifted the trousers and slipped them on.
They do fit nicely, Ayrlyn observed. I like them on you.
Nylan flushed.
By the time they were dressed, had wolfed down the eggs and cheese and
slabs of something Nylan hoped was ham, and had all their gear in the
appropriate bags, the edge of the sun was peering over the eastern horizon,
casting a flat glare into the room.
Huruc did say dawn, Ayrlyn said.
We re a little behind. Nylan hoisted saddlebags into his arms, trying not
to get them caught on either his shoulder harness or the hilt of the blade in
his waist scabbard.
Not so that it would matter. In case you haven t noticed, this isn t the
most punctual of cultures. Ayrlyn reclaimed Weryl from his exercises with the
trunk.
No exact timepieces, observed Nylan, struggling toward the door, then
waiting for the other two.
It s hard to make anything exact in a low-tech culture.
As Ayrlyn opened the heavy door, Sylenia rushed down the stones of the
corridor toward them. On her back was a thin pack, but she also wore new
grays, trimmed with purple, unlike those of Ayrlyn and Nylan.
Oh, sers, let me take Weryl.
Be my guest, said Ayrlyn.
You look so handsome this morning, the nursemaid cooed at the boy. One
day all the girls will think so.
Not too soon, said Nylan.
You don t want to stop lugging him around? asked Ayrlyn as they started
down the steps to the courtyard door.
That would be nice, but I ve noticed that the older children get, the more
problems they have.
Since you ve never had children before, that has to come from your own
upbringing. The flame-haired angel shook her head. I pity your poor
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