Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(133)

"My mother always said there was no use in complaining. No one cared, and we might as well save our breath. So Karista and I didn't. The older I got, the truer it seemed." He set down the trowel as he finished the last of the mixed mortar. "What about you?"

"There you go again. Two sentences about you, and switch the subject to me." Ayrlyn laughed. "My father was the warm one, and he joked a lot. He was quiet about it, but he also made it known, like your mother, that outside the family, no matter what people said, most didn't care."

"It sounds like he cared."

"Your mother didn't? I'm sure she did."

"Oh, she did," Nylan admitted, "but she felt it should be obvious, and why belabor the obvious? Actions speak louder than words-that was her maxim."

"So you keep trying to make your actions do the speaking?" The redhead shook her head. "Most people don't read actions very well. They need words as well, lots of them, preferably words that say how wonderful they are."

"You're more cynical than I am."

"You're not cynical at all, Nylan." Ayrlyn reached down and touched his arm gently, her fingers warm and cool at the same time. "You're a caring man who's never allowed himself to express what he feels. You feel guilty and self-indulgent when you even think about what you feel. So you keep doing things and hope people understand."

"Probably." Ayrlyn snorted and squeezed his arm.

"What about you? After last fall, aren't there going to be armsmen out there looking for a trader with flame-red hair?"

"It's getting cut shorter, and I'll be wearing a hat. If they notice, well, it takes time to send messages in this culture, and we'll try to stay ahead of Lord Sillek's authorities."

"I'm not sure I like that."

"What else can I do? We need the goods, and now is better than later."

The engineer nodded reluctantly, then stood as the bell rang for the midday meal.

"Time to eat? You headed my way?" asked Ayrlyn.

"Is there any other way?" Nylan swallowed. "Don't answer that."

"I won't, but I'll remember that you asked it." She smiled gently, and Nylan smiled back.





LXXXI



ZELDYAN SITS, PROPPED on the edge of the bed, Nesslek at her breast, wearing a green silksheen dressing gown that sets off her golden hair.

"He's mostly good," she says, looking down and smiling.

"Except when he cries in the middle of the night." Sillek rubs his eyes and yawns, then walks to the window of the room. The fields beyond Lornth, those he can see, have turned green, the light green of crops recently sprouted, with a hint of brown underlying the green. "Some night- just a night-couldn't he stay with a nurse?"

"When he's older, but he's not even a season yet," points out Zeldyan. "Would you want to trust the heir of Lornth out of our sight so young?" She offers an open smile.

"I may not survive another season." Sillek laughs. "Undertaking this campaign may get me more sleep than staying in my own bed."

"I'm glad it's only sleep you're wishing." He turns from the window and steps to the bed, bending and brushing her cheek with his lips. "It's not all I'm wishing, but I want you well."

Zeldyan flushes, ever so slightly. Then she frowns. "I still worry about your being so far from Lornth."

"Whatever I do, it will be far from Lornth. I have two enemies trying to bleed us dry, and another one that my own holders won't let me forget. Or my mother."

"Has she done anything beyond talking to Lygon?" asks Zeldyan.

Sillek frowns faintly, then turns to the window. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

"That's all right." Sillek strokes his black beard without turning. "Lord Megarth approached me. So did Lord Fysor. They were old friends of my sire." He shrugs and turns, his eyes bleak. "What can I do?"

"I'm sorry," Zeldyan repeats. "So am I."

"It all seems so stupid." Zeldyan lifts her free left hand to stop his objection. "I know. I know. You've explained, and so has your mother, and so did my father when he disowned Relyn, but it's still stupid."

"Has anyone heard from Relyn?"

"No. Father thinks the angel women have kept him captive. Have your wizards seen him?"

"No. That doesn't mean much, though. They can't scree inside that black stone tower, and during the winter how could anyone tell one person from another in those heavy coats and scarves?" Sillek sits in the chair beside the bed and yawns. His hand strokes her cheek for a moment.

Nesslek gurgles, makes a soft sneezing sound, and returns to nursing.

"You just get to eat and sleep and be close to your mother," says Sillek to his son. "And keep me awake." He stands.

Zeldyan reaches out and touches his hand. He wraps his fingers around hers for a moment, and then their fingers part.





LXXXII



RIENADRE GESTURED TOWARD the brick forms stacked in rows on the crude trestles. "It'll be another few days before these are ready."

"We do what we can." Nylan needed more of the bricks so that he could finish the smithy and the forge.