Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(130)

Behind him, Hissl studies the iron and the chaos which surrounds it. "But how? How?"

He finally glances out into the afternoon, but the hooded figure has vanished into the streets of Clynya, and the spring wind bears no hint of the stranger or his origin.





LXXIX



THIS TIME, AT the low cries, and the sense of pain, Nylan had not waited, but followed Ayrlyn up to the third level, and to Istril.

"It'll be all right," insisted the silver-haired guard. "It will be. I know." Her breathing increased, and lines of pain creased her face. "But I feel better with both of you here."

"You know a lot," said Ayrlyn. "More than I do."

"What about me?" said Jaseen.

"You ... too .. ." puffed Istril.

"Don't push yet," cautioned the healer. "You're not ready."

"Feels that way . . ." grunted the silver-haired guard. "Want to push . .. whole body says I should."

"Don't... not yet. . . pant. .. puff, but don't push."

Nylan stood beside the bed that had been a lander couch, waiting, hoping he would not be needed, feeling, again, almost like an intruder, for all that he had promised Istril that he and Ayrlyn would be there.

In the end, besides providing order support, and a touch of healing, he was not needed, and Istril cuddled her son in her arms, and dampness streaked her cheeks.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Ayrlyn.

"Weryl."

Nylan paused. "Weryl? That was my grandfather's name, too."

"I know. I liked the name." Istril's hand stroked the boy's cheek. "So small." Her eyes closed momentarily. "Tired ... worse than riding all day .. . hurts a lot more, too."

"You'll heal fine," Ayrlyn assured her.

"Just let me finish getting you cleaned up," muttered Jaseen, adding to Ayrlyn, "That's about the last of that antiseptic."

"We're going to have to develop some local substitutes- something."

Nylan stepped back away from the couch, then stopped and looked at the boy, another child with the silver fuzz on his scalp, foreshadowing silver hair like his mother's. Istril's eyes closed again, and her breathing smoothed, but she opened them and looked at Nylan.

"Glad .. . you keep promises ..."

Although he felt awkward, Nylan stepped forward and touched her wrist. "You just rest and take care of your son."

"He ... I will," answered Istril, seemingly fighting both pain and exhaustion.

"Just rest," added Ayrlyn.

Nylan took a last look at the two and then walked to the steps and down toward the now-empty great room. Ayrlyn followed.

The engineer looked at the empty tables, then walked to the one window that was open. He stood there, in the cool wind that carried the smell of turned earth, spring flowers, and damp pine needles into the tower.

"Sometimes..." For a time, he did not finish the sentence.

"Sometimes, I feel like there's so much I should see, like the children."

"Both Istril and Siret had silver-headed children," said Ayrlyn. "That's more than a little strange, since Gerlich is dark-haired."

"Does Relyn have anyone in his family with silver hair?" asked Nylan.

"I don't know, but I got the impression that no one has seen anyone with silver hair like the four of you anywhere on this planet."

"Maybe it's dominant?" Nylan shook his head.

"That's asking a lot," said Ayrlyn. "Our hair colors get changed from this switch from universe to universe. That I can buy, in a weird sort of way. But changing a recessive into a dominant gene? I don't know about that." She pauses. "Are you sure you don't know more about this?"

"I've only slept with one person."

"You're telling the truth, and that bothers me. Because..."

"I know," Nylan sighed. "Kyalynn, Dyliess, and Weryl all feel the same, with our senses ... don't they?"

Ayrlyn nodded.

"I need to talk to Ryba."

"I'll be here," Ayrlyn said. "Remember that. I'll be here."

Nylan looked at the redhead, but she just repeated her words. "I'll be here, if you need to talk."

"Thank you." He took a deep breath and headed for the steps.

Ryba was easing Dyliess into the cradle. So Nylan waited for a time until his daughter half snorted and slipped into sleep to the gentle rocking of the cradle. Already, she seemed larger.

"How is Istril?" asked Ryba, her tone that of professional concern, even before Nylan could speak.

"She's fine. So's her son." Nylan watched Ryba.

A faint shadow crossed the marshal's face. "She had a son?"

"She named him Weryl."

"How touching."

Nylan swallowed. "Dyliess isn't the only one, is she? How did you do it?"

"How does it feel? i promised you a son. I didn't realize it would be this soon."

"I don't like it-but how did you manage it? You're the only one ... I mean, I'm not like Gerlich, bedding every willing marine."

Ryba turned toward the window, walking past the cradle, where Dyliess gave a little snort. Ryba paused and smiled briefly at the infant before speaking. "You don't have to bed anyone but me. We do have some remnants of medical technology. And I know how to use the local net, or whatever you want to call it, also, at least enough to ensure that our child would be a daughter." Ryba looked back at the silver-haired girl in the cradle. "I thought that Istril's child would be a girl."