Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(146)

"I hope that Kyalynn has such skills. I wouldn't want her to be just a guard." Siret's green eyes darted toward the stairs, as if to ask if Ryba were descending.

Kyalynn yawned.

"Well . . . work on your own skills." Nylan wiggled his finger out of the sleepy Kyalynn's hand and stood.

Siret offered a smile and rose. "I need to put them to sleep while I can. Ellysia can watch them while I practice and do a few things for me."

Istril and Weryl were at the next table, and Nylan crossed the stone tiles. Weryl's eyes were already green, and they locked in on Nylan as the engineer approached his son.

"He knows his father," Istril said quietly.

"I should have realized earlier. There were clues there, but I just never thought. .." Nylan shook his head.

"I'm not upset. It was my choice. You've saved my life twice, you know." Istril gave a wry smile. "And I don't even know what to call you. Part of me thinks of you as an officer and 'ser,' and part as Nylan."

"Whatever you feel comfortable with."

" 'Nylan' in private and 'ser' in public."

Nylan smiled. "All right."

"You know," Istril said quietly, "I'm stuck here. When I've been hunting, I've gone down lower, especially last summer. The air was so hot and thick that I felt like I couldn't breathe. Ayrlyn can do it. She's from Svenn. I couldn't. The guards that go with her-they all lose weight, and it takes them days to feel good after they return. That's why Ayrlyn takes different ones each time. You're only half Sybran. You could handle the heat and thick air. So could Weryl. He's young ... but I couldn't." She shrugged. "It's not bad here, though, and it's getting better. I'm glad Blynnal came."

Weryl made a stretching motion, as if to reach out to Nylan. Nylan took the small hand and let Weryl's fingers curl around his.

"Oooohhh..."

"He likes you." Istril shifted the boy onto her other knee, closer to Nylan.

"I'd hope so."

"What are you going to do?"

"Right now, I'm trying to figure out a faster way to forge arrowheads. We need a lot of them. If I can solve that problem, I might go to work on planning and building a sawmill . . ."

In time, Nylan finally stood.

"I understand, Nylan, if you don't want to spend too much time with me. But keep stopping to see Weryl." Istril's face was calm, somewhere between content and resigned.

"I will." What else can I do? he thought. They are my children. Why . . . why did you do this to me? Why did I refuse to see what was happening? Because it was easier? He forced a smile, which softened as Weryl "gooed" again.

Either Istril or Siret would have been warmer to him than Ryba, and Siret really wasn't that interested-or so she said-in any man. Yet he never even considered them-because he was still bound in the officer-marine separation? And Ayrlyn, crying in the night?

Again, nothing was quite what it seemed on the surface, even with people. He supposed people still thought he and Ryba slept together. That was another problem they hadn't resolved-or he hadn't. Surprisingly, Ryba hadn't pushed. What else did she know?

He snorted once, ironically, as he started up the steps to the fifth level. Wasn't that always the way it was? Ryba knowing, and not saying, and Nylan the great mage, bewildered and struggling. He snorted again.

In the dimness of the fifth level, Ellysia was practicing, puffing, with Saryn, Hryessa, and Ydrall. Nylan eased around the sparring and toward the section of storage shelves above the unused weapons laser. He scooped the parts he had taken from the lander and roughly bent into shape into a worn leather bag that had been some poor raider's purse.

Then he headed back down to the lower level. As he passed the third level, he saw Siret rocking Kyalynn to sleep. Dephnay, on her knee, looked wide awake. Nylan found Relyn in the space off the kitchen, laboriously smoothing what looked to be a wooden tray.

"That looks good," observed the smith-engineer.

"I said I'd help her. She's too quiet." Relyn looked up. "Blynnal. She won't ask for anything."

"Some people won't. She's improved the food a lot."

Relyn grinned. "Sometimes, I get a little extra."

"I haven't forgotten my promise," Nylan said, taking out the pieces of metal. "Like everything around here, it's taking longer. If you'll come here, I'd like to measure these. I'll probably have to hot-hammer-or whatever they call it- these together, but I wanted to check the fit first."

Relyn extended his hook.

Nylan slipped the pieces in place, then nodded toward the knife. "I need to see how tight it should be."

"As tight as you can make it, Mage."

The knife slid into the makeshift clamp easily, too easily. Nylan studied the construction, then took his own knife and scratched where the changes should be.

"We'll try again."

"You do not admit failure, do you?"

Nylan laughed, harshly. "Life is trial, and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying. So far, I've been lucky."

Relyn looked back at the tray. "It is not luck-that I know. You understand how the world works." He smiled wryly. "I hope to learn that, too."