Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(126)

"No. They focus on the great heroes," Nylan said. "Like Ryba."

"Part of that's not easy, either," Ayrlyn pointed out. "She does see things, you know."

"I know."

"It must be terrible."

"I suppose so." Nylan didn't want to say more, feeling as though he'd poured out more than he'd ever intended, and Ayrlyn wasn't even the one with whom he slept.

"I mean it. If she has a vision, or whatever it is, can she trust it? Does she dare to oppose it? What should she do to make it occur, if it's an outcome she wants? What are the options and trade-offs?"

"You still talk like a comm officer, sometimes."

"I probably always will." A brief laugh followed. "Don't you see, though? What she has is a terrible curse. It's much easier to be a healer, or a black mage. We do the best we can, and, if we make mistakes, we aren't faced with the idea that we knew in advance and still failed."

"She doesn't see everything."

"That's worse. How can she tell what might be a wish, or what leads to what she sees?" Ayrlyn shivered.

Nylan moistened his lips, and his eyes flicked toward the top of the tower. The wind rose, and a fluffy white cloud covered the sun, and Nylan shivered also, but not because of the darkness or the chill that swept across Tower Black and the causeway where they stood.





LXXVI



"YOUR SON, LORD Sillek." The midwife turns to Sillek, her face blank with the concealed expression of one who felt Sillek had no rights to be in the room.

Sillek glances from the small figure in the midwife's arms to Zeldyan's washed-out and sweat-plastered face, then back to the child and the fuzz upon his scalp that already bears a blond tinge. He smiles broadly at both his son and his consort.

"Have you a name?" asks the midwife.

Sillek ignores the question and bends over the wide bed. His lips brush Zeldyan's cheek. "I love you." His fingers squeeze hers for a moment. "Thank you. He's healthy and wonderful. You are, too."

"May I?" asks the Lady of Lornth, her arms reaching for the infant as Sillek steps back.

"You?" asks the midwife.

"He's my son."

Sillek's eyes fasten on the midwife until she lowers the boy into Zeldyan's arms.

Zeldyan eases the seeking mouth into place and smiles faintly. "His name is Nesslek, after his father and grandsire."

"Nesslek ..." muses Sillek. "You had that thought out all along, didn't you?"

"Of course." Zeldyan's quick grin fades. "I still feel like a herd of something ran over me."

"Would you like a wet nurse now?" asks the midwife. "Lady Ellindyja..."

"No. Thank you. Not now." Zeldyan's arms tighten ever so slightly around her son.

Sillek watches both, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.





LXXVII



TWO HUNDRED CUBITS uphill from Tower Black, still well below the rocks that rose into the sides of the stable canyon, Nylan looked at his forge site. Four corners marked with rocks, that was all, not that there was much he could do until the planting was complete-food was the first priority.

With a forge, he might be able to make a simple plow, if he could bend metal around a wooden frame. He certainly wouldn't have the heat to forge metal lander alloys-soften them, perhaps, and even that would be hard. He'd also need charcoal, lots of it, and that meant work down in the forest, after it dried out more.

He turned toward the greenery below, the sprigs of grass sprouting even in the field area, and the sprays of thin white lacy flowers that seemed to have sprung up everywhere.

Despite the chill that had him in his worn ship jacket, the engineer took a deep breath of the clean air, glad to be out of the tower. Then he started up to the stables. His first job was to fix the road, and he needed the crude cart to lug down rocks, piles of rocks. As he passed the lander, now used for fodder storage, he could hear Ayrlyn and the guards as the healer organized the planting detail.

"Those are potatoes? Where did you get these?" demanded Denalle.

"We grew them. The ones we saved are known as seed potatoes," said Ayrlyn, almost tiredly. "The number of potatoes we saved for seed wouldn't have fed anyone for more than an eight-day-and then what would we have to plant for the next year?"

"We're hungry now."

"Shut up, Denalle," added Rienadre. "Someone's got to think ahead. You think there's a food market over the next hill? Or a seed store?"

"Stuff it! I'm tired of your superiority. I'm tired of you, and I'm tired of this whole planet. I just want out. Out! Do you hear me?"

"I think the whole Roof of the World hears you," added Nylan before the healer could speak. "The marshal will let you leave anytime. The only question is whether you want to be beaten, raped, killed, or just be a paid slut once you reach a town." He shrugged. "Who knows? You might find some peasant nice enough to feed you, shelter you, and give you a dozen kids."

Denalle glared at the engineer. Nylan met her eyes evenly.

Then she looked down. "I hate this place."

"I don't think any of us would have chosen it," Nylan said quietly. "We just have to make the best of it. You have any ideas to make it better, let someone know. We are listening." He started toward the cart, then stopped and asked Ayrlyn, "You don't mind if I use the cart around here? I'm going to cart stones."