Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(135)

"Incoming?" asked the locally raised guard as she mounted.

"Bad men who are on their way here," Fierral rephrased. Berlis offered a brief grin at the rewording. Hryessa urged her mount uphill.

"Who might you be?" Nylan asked. "Nistayna. I rode all the way from Linspros." Her eyes darted back uphill, her hands remaining on the girl's shoulders.

"Stand by for company!" ordered Fierral. "Berlis-you get over there on the other side where you've got a clear shot." The guard eased her way across the trail. "And Linspros is where?" asked Nylan. Her eyes widened. "Is it true that you fell from the skies?"

"Yes, in a way," answered Nylan tiredly. "Now ... where is Linspros?" He added to Fierral, "I'd like to know where else we're going to be making enemies."

The chief guard, or armsmaster or armsmistress-she had to be something like that in this culture now, Nylan reflected-responded with a grim smile, then motioned to Weindre. "They need something to drink."

"Linspros . . ." Nistayna mumbled. Nylan walked to the nearest stump, leading the cart horse, and tied the leads to a protruding root. Then he turned and extended a hand to the apparently tottering woman. Nistayna shied away, her arms shielding the girl. "Fine." He motioned to Weindre, who approached with a plastic water bottle, one of the few remaining. "You get them to sit down before they both fall over."

Fierral tied the plow horse to another tree, and glanced back uphill. Hryessa was already nearly to the top of the ridge and almost out of sight.

After the black-haired local slumped onto the stump, she took the bottle and offered it to the girl. After the child drank, and after the mother took several swallows of water, Nylan tried again. "We are strangers. Where is Linspros? Is it near Gnotos?"

"Oh, no. Linspros is between Analeria and Gallos in the great west valley."

"It's east of the mountains. How long did it take you to find us?"

"Days . . . many days, and yesterday ... I saw Surba. I was on the heights, but he has Pretar. He is a hunter and a tracker. They will be here soon. We could not ride as fast as they can." Again, she looked to the east.

"This refugee bit always disrupts work," said Fierral dryly.

"We've gotten a good cook, a good rabbit hunter, and some blades."

"We'll need a lot more, the way things are going."

"Why did you leave Linspros?" asked Nylan.

"Surba . . . only a woman would know. Only a mother." Her eyes fell.

"Sexual abuse?" Nylan asked the redheaded head of the guards.

"Probably, but who knows? Any kind of abuse seems to be fair on this friggin' planet. Maybe the girl."

Nylan bridled inside, but only said, "That's not representative. We only see the ones who are abused. The happy ones, or those from places where the women have some power, won't be the ones seeking out the angels."

Fierral opened her mouth, then paused. "You could be right."

"Maybe what this shows is that the society doesn't offer a place for those that don't fit in, but it doesn't mean every woman is degraded or oppressed."

"No," said Fierral. "Just those who want to be treated equally."

"Maybe," said Nylan. "Maybe not. Do we know enough?"

They looked back at Nistayna. She, in turn, kept her eyes on the ground, but clutched the plastic water bottle, then offered it to her daughter again. The child drank, but kept her eyes on Nylan.

For a time, they all waited. How long, Nylan wasn't certain. Then he frowned. Did he hear hooves? Ryba?

"Ready!" snapped Fierral.

Across the trail road, Berlis checked her bow.

Weindre checked her bow and held an arrow, almost ready to nock it.

Behind Fierral, Llyselle appeared, also carrying her composite bow, flanked by Kyseen, the former cook, who grinned shyly at Nylan.

Ryba rode down the trail, and the guards lowered their bows.

"Don't relax too much," said the marshal as she and Hryessa rode up together. "Your incomings are headed this way."

"Will they go up to the tower?" asked Nylan. "They might, but they won't get far. Everyone else, except Ellysia and Blynnal, is waiting on the top of the ridge. And Gerlich, of course-he's out hunting."

Ryba surveyed the area. "If we have to go to weapons, use the bows first. I don't want any of us hurt if we can avoid it." Then she eased the big roan up next to the stump where the dark-haired Nistayna now stood. "You are the Angel?"

"I'm Ryba, the marshal of Westwind." Nistayna bowed her head. "Please ... save us ... take us in. Do not make me return. If you must, I will leave, but please take Niera. She must not. . ."

Nylan's lips tightened. He didn't like Surba, and the man hadn't even appeared. Ryba glanced to Nylan. "No chaos. Seems honest."

"So long as you live by our rules, you may stay." Ryba paused, and then added, "Westwind is not always an easy place, and we already have powerful enemies-" She broke off at the sound of hooves.

Two riders eased their way down the slope. On the lead horse, a black stallion, rode a burly man dressed in a green shirt and tunic and brown leather trousers. Behind him rode a thin-faced blond man with a large bow across his back.