The armsman’s face relaxed slightly as he surveyed them. “A man and a woman… and an infant.” He shook his head. “Never let it be said that Tonsar destroyed a family, even one from the heavens.”
“Besides,” Ayrlyn said quietly, “we are at peace, and both the people of Lornth and those of Westwind have paid dearly for that peace.”
“Peace, it may be, but few love the angels,” reflected Tonsar. “I am ordered to bring you to Lornth to meet the regents.”
“Did the regents offer any message?” asked Nylan.
The burly armsman rolled his eyes. “Come.” He turned his horse, and the armsmen of the squad split, as if to let Nylan and Ayrlyn join Tonsar.
Ayrlyn looked at Nylan and rolled her eyes.
“I was just asking,” said the smith in a low voice to Ayrlyn, as he urged the mare forward and alongside the squad leader. Ayrlyn rode on Tonsar’s other side, the gray trailing. The remaining armsmen eased their mounts behind the three.
They rode nearly a kay before Tonsar spoke. “Many from Lornth died on the Roof of the World.”
“That’s true,” Nylan admitted, spreading his fingers for Weryl to grab, then trying not too hard to jerk away.the index finger Weryl had seized. “But we never attacked first, and we had nowhere else to go.”
“You could not return to Heaven?”
“No,” answered Ayrlyn. “Our ship failed.”
“You are angels. Angels,” repeated Tonsar, as if that answered everything.
“Our ship was destroyed in crossing the stars, and we were lucky to land on the Roof of the World,” Nylan explained. “Few of the angels can live for long where it is lower and hotter. Our worlds are colder.”
“Hmmmm…” reflected Tonsar. “That be what Kurpat and Jegel said, ‘fore they left for the last battle. Jegel-he was wearing heavy leathers and he near froze, and he said the angels were in thin clothes, and they all were sweating like it was high summer in the Grass Hills.”
For a time, only the sound of hoofs was heard.
“Be true that most angels cannot live where it is hot, then why are you here?” asked the squad leader.
“I can live where it is warmer,” Nylan admitted, “but it is not comfortable. The trader here is the only angel from a warmer place, and the Roof of the World is too chill for her. All the others would suffer greatly if they tried to live in Lornth.” Nylan wondered whether he was right in concealing that Ayrlyn was a healer… but he hadn’t lied.
“Yet many of our women fled to that cold. That I do not understand.” Tonsar turned to Ayrlyn. “Can you tell me?”
Nylan was glad Ayrlyn had to explain.
“All who fled to Westwind-the Roof of the World-had been mistreated, often hurt badly, and they had no place else to go.”
“A place for women and angels who have no other place- that be odd.”
“… odd indeed… for many fled to Lornth from Cyador years past…” came a murmur from an armsman who rode behind the three.
Nylan frowned. He didn’t like the way Cyador kept coming up, or the business about Cyadoran women fleeing to Lornth. He wasn’t getting the most favorable impression of Cyador. Now, the regents of Lornth wanted to meet them. Again, that might be good, and it might be the worst possible situation.
Weryl grabbed the front of the saddle and tugged again. Nylan disengaged his son’s fingers and looked ahead toward Lornth, no more than a fair-sized town from what he could see, then to Ayrlyn.
She smiled enigmatically, and shrugged.
Great insight, thought Nylan. Great help.
“Waa-daaa?” asked Weryl.
Nylan eased out the water bottle. Water he could provide.
XXXVII
THE BLACK-BEARDED man stepped into the long room.
From the rocking chair, Zeldyan held up a hand and shook her head, then patted Nesslek on the back as she continued rocking. Fornal closed the door gently, but stood, waiting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. His eyes were cold as he regarded the boy.
In time, Zeldyan slipped from the chair, carrying the child, and walked through the narrow door into the small adjoining room where she eased her son into his railed bed, then knelt and patted his back. The boy murmured softly, then gave a sigh.
Fornal watched from the doorway, still shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Finally, Zeldyan stood and walked to the doorway to the adjoining sitting room. After listening for a moment, she closed the door, then crossed the antique Analerian carpet and reseated herself in the rocking chair. Fornal did not sit, but paced to the window.
“You got a message about these angels, and you didn’t tell me?” he said, each word said precisely and separately.
“You were out with the lancers. How was I supposed to find you?” asked Zeldyan reasonably. She lifted her goblet and sipped.
“Genglois tells me that you intend to make them welcome. You didn’t consult with me or father.”
“Father is at Carpa. I sent him a message. I was going to talk to you as soon as I got Nesslek down-if you were back.”
“I cannot believe you. You’re going to receive them, when they killed your consort?” demanded Fornal. “How will the holders feel?”
“I don’t care how they feel. Listening to the holders killed Sillek. Do you know, Fornal, that those women, and their mages or whatever, never attacked anyone first?” She smiled coolly. “Every time they were attacked they destroyed the attackers, but they never attacked. Besides, we have an agreement with them. What do you want me to do-give them real grounds for an attack?”
“You know I would not wish that.” He frowned. “But… Relyn?”
“Relyn is alive… and if he happened to be misled, it wasn’t by the angel women.”
“There’s no sense in starting on that again.” Fornal turned to the window. “We can’t undo what the Lady Ellindyja did.”
“Fornal.” She paused. “I think we can use them. The messenger said one is a man, and he looks like the mage Sillek described. The two have a small child.”
“That could be deception. After all that has happened, I would be wary of any black angels.” Fornal did not leave the window.
“That is possible, dear brother. But why would a mage bring a small angel child-the child has silver hair-into Lornth after he has expended so much effort to create Westwind? There’s another thing, too. I talked with Terek’s page. He says that the big armsman who led Hissl’s attack on the Roof of the World was a male angel. There were only three men that came from Heaven, and Lord Nessil killed one. The second attacked his own folk and was killed, and the third, who has to be the mage, is traveling through Lornth with a consort and a child. What does that tell you?”
“He’s going to try to get us to do something.” Fornal turned and spread his hands. “How will we know until it’s too late?”
“If he is the mage who destroyed three white wizards, why is he here?”
“Should I care, sister dear? Rather we should send them on their way, since we dare not kill them under our… agreement.”
Zeldyan stood, and her eyes blazed. “If you do not care, Fornal, then you are a bigger fool than Hissl and all of the holders together. You and they are right about one thing. The angels do not like men. They have driven out one of the most powerful mages in Candar, or he has left because he does not wish to remain. We face a renewed Cyador, and we have little enough in the way of resources to withstand the white legions. We had three white wizards. We have none. Would it not be worth something to enlist the support of the mage who destroyed them?”
“My sister, I know you wish the best for Lornth and for Nesslek, but is it wise to bring in a dark angel whose folk have brought us naught but death and grief?”
Zeldyan pursed her lips, and her brows furrowed. “Can it harm us to talk to them? We know so little.”
“There is some risk, but, so long as we have cold steel nearby, I would think not. Information is usef
ul… if the cost prove not too great.”
“Perhaps we can enlist their aid,” she mused.
“How do you propose to do that? With your own great wizardry?”
“No. I will use common sense and kindness. At times they work as well as cold steel.” She shrugged. “If not, your blade will be near. And Father’s.”
“What can I say?” Fornal shrugged. “We need armsmen and mercenaries and coins, and you would bring in an angel mage.”
“We still need armsmen and coins,” Zeldyan said. “But remember that angels also destroyed every small force set against them without magic and against greater numbers. Relyn had twice their number, and whatever his faults, he was a master blade. We need every aid we can employ, and perhaps we can devise some good from what these angels offer. I will not let the unreasoning hatred of the holders destroy Nesslek’s future the way it destroyed Sillek’s.”
“I almost pity this angel mage.” Fornal shook his head. “Then wring all you can from them. I do not like it, but… as you say, we have few choices.” He paused, and added under his breath, “And I have even fewer.”
Zeldyan frowned, but only said, “It cannot hurt to try to obtain with kindness what one cannot obtain with force.”
In turn, Fornal frowned once more, but momentarily, before he smiled. “My blade will stand behind your efforts, sister dear.”
XXXVIII
LORNTH WAS FARTHER than it looked, and larger. The sun broke through the hazy clouds and hung above the rolling hills to the west by the time the angels and their escort descended the last low hill leading into the town.
Like all the towns Nylan had seen in Candar, Lornth was not walled, and the houses went from a few widely spaced on large plots of ground to a point where they were nearly wall to wall, with occasional shops sandwiched between.
Tonsar guided them down the street that the highway had become, a street that pointed toward the tower Nylan had seen from a distance. At a closer glance, Nylan realized that the buildings he had thought were plastered white were a stucco or cement of a pinkish color, so pale as to appear white from a distance. Some few structures were stone, like the tower, a light red stone that resembled granite.
The streets were narrow, wide enough for perhaps three horses abreast, or a single wagon, and an unpleasant aroma rose from the ditch on the right side of the paving stones, a ditch that was an open sewer.
Nylan wrinkled his nose and looked at Ayrlyn.
She shook her head. “No lectures on deaths from poor sanitation.”
A puzzled look crossed Tonsar’s face. “Lornth is not poor.”
“Nylan worries about open waste ditches,” Ayrlyn explained.
“The people are required to wash them down every eight-day,” said Tonsar. “There is a fine if they do not.” He reined up as a cart half-filled with barrels rolled out of an alley, pulled by a single ox, and then slowed as the wheels dropped into the depression of the sewage ditch.
The squad waited as the cart lurched across the waste ditch, flinging dark slime onto the paving stones. Nylan winced, and then shrugged.
At the end of the row of houses was a wider area, with shops on each side and several pushcarts on the paving stones beyond the storefronts. A few handfuls of people, mostly women, turned as the squad rode into the small square.
“You are not exactly the most welcome of visitors,” pointed out Tonsar.
“I can hear that.” Nylan shifted his weight in the saddle, and studied those who stared at him, but none moved toward him as the party rode through the center of the small square and back into the narrower street.
Less than three hundred cubits farther, the street ended, and they faced an open green area, behind which stood the keep of Lornth. The keep was of the pale pink granite, as was the wall surrounding it, although the wall was low, not more than ten cubits high and only three cubits thick-a barrier more suited to a rural estate than the domain of a lord, Nylan would have thought.
The two heavy wooden gates were bound in iron and stood open, guarded by four armsmen on foot.
Tonsar reined up and nodded to the guards. “The angels to see the regents.”
The small thin guard with a halberd of sorts nodded back. “The Regent Zeldyan left word that she would see them in the tower room as soon as they arrived.”
Tonsar jerked his head in a quick nod, then urged his mount through the gates. The sound of hoofs echoed from the pale pink paving stones of the courtyard as the riders followed the lead armsman around the north side of the keep or palace.
Nylan noted the relative emptiness of the keep. Only a score or so of armsmen? Four gate guards?
The stables were in the rear of the keep, a separate building with a tile roof and swept clay floors that smelled more of straw and horses than of manure. Several clucks, brawks, and cheeps indicated chickens were located somewhere nearby, although the smith saw none.
Nylan gratefully dismounted from the mare, stretching his legs and shoulders, then his arms. His left shoulder got stiff more easily than the right. His hand brushed the weathered lintel beam, reminding him that ceilings were low indeed in low-tech cultures.
“You may leave your mounts here in the stable. Your things will be brought to your quarters.”
Ayrlyn unfastened the lutar case. “I’ll take this. It’s an instrument.”
“As you wish, angel,” Tonsar said with a laugh.
Nylan worried about the metal composite bow, but saying anything would draw more attention, and there was no way the locals could duplicate it. Besides, wrapped in oiled leather, it looked much like any other bow.
Again, those few in the courtyard watched intently as the angels walked back across the stones toward the keep building itself.
The armsman led the three up a set of stone steps and then into what appeared to be an older tower, stopping outside a dark and polished wooden door, guarded by a broad-shouldered man wearing a decorative breastplate and a shortsword. The shorter blade made more sense for an interior guard. Beside him was a page.
“Announce the angels to the regent,” requested the armsman.
The page slipped inside the door, but Nylan caught some of the words.
“Lady Zeldyan, the angels…”
Almost immediately, the door reopened.
“You may enter,” said the page.
“Leave your blades outside the room,” noted the guardsman.
“Do all warriors leave their weapons?” asked Nylan.
“If you prefer,” answered the guard, “you may lay them on the table inside the door. No one will touch them.”
“Thank you,” said Nylan. “I’ll have to draw the shoulder blade.” He looked at Weryl, who looked up sleepily.
“Why… oh.”
The page opened the dark door, and Nylan saw the table, dark and battered wood, waist-high. He placed both blades there, side by side, realizing that they could still be taken before he could ever reach them. Ayrlyn followed his example.
A slender blond woman with piercing green eyes stood waiting. She wore a purple tunic, trimmed in green, and green trousers. Her hair was swept back in a malachite hair band.
“I am the Lady Zeldyan. Please be seated.” The blond woman gestured toward the circular conference table, and her eyes went to Weryl. “Your child? How old is-?”
“He’s a little more than a year,” Nylan said.
“They like to explore. You may let him crawl, if you like. He might prefer that.”
“Thank you.” Nylan eased Weryl out of the carrypak and set him on the ornate but worn carpet. He followed Zeldyan’s gesture and sat, taking the chair closest to where his son sat.
Weryl’s fingers ran over the fabric, and he looked back at Nylan.
“You can crawl around,” the smith told the boy.
With a glance back at the now-closed wooden door, Ayrlyn eased herself into the chair beside Nylan.
The blond woman took the chair across from them, her eyes on Ayrlyn. “I was
the consort of Lord Sillek. The holders were kind enough to confirm me, with my brother Fornal and my sire, as one of the regents for my son Nesslek.” Zeldyan gestured toward the pair of pitchers and the goblets. “The gray pitcher has greenjuice, the brown, wine. Would you like some?”
“I’d definitely enjoy the greenjuice,” Nylan replied.
“The wine,” answered Ayrlyn nearly simultaneously.
They both laughed, and Zeldyan smiled faintly, but poured the wine first for Ayrlyn, then the juice into the two remaining goblets.
“I am Nylan,” the smith said, as he realized he had never given his name, “and this is Ayrlyn. Weryl is the one crawling there.” Nylan watched as Weryl crawled away from the table toward a low closed chest. The boy’s fingers explored the brass fittings before he levered himself upright and stood, holding on to the chest for a moment before he sat down with a thump. Immediately, he began the process again.
What did Zeldyan want? Nylan had to wonder.
“Many would guess why two angels would choose to enter Lornth.” Zeldyan took a slight sip of the juice, and continued. “I have my own thoughts, but I would be honored if you would tell me how you came here.”
The two angels exchanged glances.
“Might as well,” Nylan said. “We were the crew of a ship that crossed the skies, a warship, and we were in a battle with the… demons of light, I’d guess you’d call them. The forces were so great that they carried us to the skies above Candar, but our ship was destroyed, and we were forced to land on the Roof of the World. We had to land in a cold place because most of the angels come from places far colder than Candar. Only three of us can really live for any long period of time in the warmer parts of Candar. Ayrlyn comes from the warmest place, and she finds the Roof of the World in the winter nearly as inhospitable as you do. Almost as soon as we landed, people started attacking us, and we had to fight back. They kept attacking, and we kept defending, until the peace agreement after the big battle last fall.” The smith shrugged. “Does that answer your question?”
The Chaos Balance Page 18
