Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(118)

With long strokes that were as gentle as he could make them, he worked on rounding the left sideboard just a touch more, trying to make the sides match as closely as he could. The relief around the rocky hillside on the headboard needed to be deeper, too, although he sometimes felt as though attempts at art were almost a waste in a community struggling to survive.

He looked up at the sound of boots.

Relyn stood there, studying the cradle. After a moment, the red-haired man asked, "Were you ever a crafter, Ser Mage?"

"No, I can't say that I was." Nylan blotted his forehead with the back of his hand, then shifted his weight on the hard stone floor.

"Then the forces of order have gifted you." Relyn squatted next to the cradle, his fingers not quite touching the carving of the single tree rising out of the rocky hillside.

"It's not as good as Istril's," Nylan said, nodding toward the momentarily abandoned work.

"She is also one of the gifted silver-heads." Relyn eased into a sitting position with his back against the wall.

"Are there many in Lornth with silver hair?"

"None, except the very old, and their hair is a white silver, not the silvered silver of the angels." Relyn tapped the blunt hook that had replaced his right hand against the cut stone of the wall in a series of nervous movements, almost a replacement gesture for tapping fingers or snapping them.

"You look upset," the engineer observed, lowering his voice, although only Rienadre and Denalle remained on the woodworking side of the lower level, and they were laboring together on a chair of some sort across the room, in the area closest to the kitchen space.

Relyn glanced at the other two guards. "It grows warmer. What am I to do? I am not welcome in Lornth. I would have to fight to prove I was no coward."

"I saw you practicing the other day. The blade looks comfortable in your hand."

"I hope to learn enough to defend myself with the bad hand."

Nylan frowned. "Maybe . . . maybe, we could figure out a clamp or something so that you could fix a knife to the hook. Don't some fight with a blade and a knife?"

"That... I have not heard of."

"It's been done," Nylan affirmed.

"Since you say it, Mage, that must be so."

"Wouldn't that help? Enemies wouldn't think you were defenseless on your right."

"Again, you prove you are dangerous." Relyn frowned. "Could you make such a device?"

"I'll see what I can do. Let me see your knife, though."

Relyn eased the knife out and passed it hilt-first to the engineer.

Nylan looked at it for a time before speaking. "I think I can, maybe bend some rod locks so they'll hold the hilt." He handed back the knife. "I take it you'd rather not stay in Westwind."

"I am no mage. Nor am I a mighty and powerful warrior like the hunter. Nor did I handle a blade, even with two hands, as well as the best of these guards. Even those bearing a child work and improve their skills-and with those devil blades you forged?" Relyn shook his head. "Also, I do not trust the marshal. She smiles, but she smiled when she took off my hand."

"Why are you telling me?"

"I must talk to someone, and I distrust you the least, because you would build rather than destroy."

"Thanks," answered Nylan dryly. "I suppose I deserve that."

Relyn shrugged apologetically.

"Do you think the marshal will have you killed in your sleep or something?" Nylan asked, wishing he had not even as he spoke.

"It is possible. It is possible that lightning might strike me as well. I do not fear either . . . now."

"Ah ... but you think your welcome might wear thin?"

"There is not that much food, is there?"

"I did bring in that deer, and that means more game might be moving higher into the mountains."

"That will be true for a time, but only for a time."

"Where could you go?"

"South, north, east-anywhere but west." Relyn grinned briefly. "I do not have to decide that until the snows melt, perhaps later." He paused. "If I should need to depart sooner?"

"I'll let you know if I know" Nylan laughed softly. "Sometimes, I'm among the last to discover things."

"It is often that way when one deals with women."

"Even in Lornth?"

"Even in Lornth, even as a holder's son," Relyn affirmed, as he stood, using the hook to catch the edge of a stone wall block and to help balance him. "Thank you, Ser Mage." He offered Nylan a head bow before turning andxheading for the steps.

Nylan looked down at the cradle. A daughter coming? That was hard to believe as well.





LXX



NYLAN TOOK ONE end of the saw and looked across the half-cubit-thick fir trunk to Huldran. "Ready?" Another trunk lay beside the path, ready for their efforts when they finished cutting and splitting the first.

"Ready as you are, ser." The broad-shouldered marine grinned.

"I hope," Nylan grunted as he pulled the blade handle toward him, "you're a lot more ready than that."

"Do we really need this wood now?" asked Huldran.

"We could get more storms. Even if we don't, do you think it will go to waste? After this winter? Besides, we can't plant now. We're just about out of wood planking for new fixtures, and there's only so much equipment for people to hunt. Also, we'll need wood for the kitchen stove and," Nylan laughed, "to defrost the bathhouse."