Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(127)

"Stones?" asked Ayrlyn.

"I'm going to build a stone culvert and crude bridge where the outfalls cut through the road. Unless I fix that, it will just get worse. Then, as I can, I'll be using stones to pave the road from the causeway to the bridge, and then up the ridge. Someday, we won't have to worry about the mud, then."

"I thought you were going to work on a forge."

"I'll probably do both. I can't use the forge until I make charcoal. I'd need help with the logs, and that'll have to wait until after planting."

"That's a lot of stones," said Ayrlyn. "You can have the cart. It's not as though we couldn't come and get it almost immediately."

Nylan grinned and walked toward the stables.

"Use the gray," Ayrlyn called. "She's used to the cart."

By the time the engineer had the gray harnessed and the cart ready, the planting detail had left.

He had tucked his blade and scabbard in the narrow space beside the seat, so he could get it quickly-Ryba had insisted he have it near-and flicked the worn leather leads. "Come on, old lady."

His eyes went to the blade. With the practice that Ryba had also insisted upon, he was improving, but he still wasn't comfortable with the blade, even as he found that he could now usually keep from getting spitted-or the equivalent with the wooden practice blades-and could actually strike most of the other guards at will, except for Ryba and Saryn. He could also run through the exercises with his own blades-finally-without danger of taking off an ear or other limbs.

He flicked the leads once more, and the gray tossed her head vigorously but followed him through the mud toward the outcroppings farther up the gorge from the stable.

Rough stones there were, more than enough, and Nylan slowly filled the cart until it seemed to sag over the wheels. By then his back felt as if it were sagging as well.

"Hard labor-they never told me about this in engineer's school," he mumbled to the gray.

The mare didn't answer, but chewed the few green shoots she could reach from where Nylan had tethered her. She kept chewing as he untethered her and slowly led her and the creaking wagon down past the stables, past the smithy site, past the tower and causeway to the gaping hole in the muddy patch that passed for a road.

Then he began to unload the stones, one after the other, stacking each where he thought it would be closest to where it would be needed. After the wagon was empty, he flicked the reins, half dragging the mare from cropping the white flowers and the tender leaves beneath, and headed back uphill.

"Nice day, ser," called Hryessa from the causeway, where she had taken off her boots and was knocking the mud from them against the stones of the causeway wall.

Behind her, in the low-walled practice area, Llyselle and Siret sparred with wands, their mounts standing by, since Ryba had decreed that at least two outriders were to be ready at all times.

"It is, at last." He waved to Hryessa and kept leading the mare uphill.

For the second load, Nylan concentrated on finding larger chunks of stone, the kind he could use.to frame a large culvert. Two long green trunks might help. Ideally, stone alone would last, but he couldn't always afford to do the ideal.

After he finished loading the cart, he stretched and tried to massage his back. The planting detail was still struggling with mud and seeds when he returned to the road and began stacking the stones from his second load.

He glanced to the tower as the triangle sounded once. Almost before its echoes died away, Siret and Llyselle galloped up the hill. The guards in the planting group laid aside shovels, hoes, and warrens, and reclaimed bows and blades.

Nylan continued to unload stones until he heard hoofbeats on the trail down from the ridge. Then he dropped the last stone and strapped his scabbard in place. Only the two Westwind mounts returned, but Llyselle and Siret each carried another rider.

As the two slowed and picked their way around the gap in the road, and the gray and the cart, Nylan studied the newcomers-both women, one brown-haired, one black. Then he walked toward the causeway.

The silver-haired guards set the two women on the stones at the end of the causeway. Both staggered as their feet hit the hard rock.

Nylan arrived after the armed and curious guards of the planting detail.

The black-haired woman, thin-faced, glanced at Nylan, then at Siret, then at Llyselle, and back at Nylan.

The engineer glanced around. Ryba was still in the tower. Saryn was out Hunting, although Nylan suspected she was as much keeping an eye on Gerlich as hunting. Ayrlyn had been supervising the crop planting and stood at the back of the now-armed planting group.

"I think they're asking for shelter, ser," said Llyselle, "but I still have problems with the local tongue."

"I don't trust the dark one," added Siret.

Nylan turned his perceptions on the black-haired woman, wincing as he did. An aura of white chaos, laced with red, surrounded her.

"See what I mean, ser?"

Nylan grinned at Siret. "Your night vision is a Jot better than it used to be, isn't it?"

She looked down.

"Don't worry." He glanced at Llyselle. "Yours is too, isn't it?"

Llyselle looked bewildered. "I thought most everyone's was. So I didn't say anything. Besides, I hate night duty."

Ayrlyn made her way around the half-dozen guards who had been planting and stepped up beside Nylan. He realized that, in their muddy and tattered work garb, none of them looked terribly prepossessing.