Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(150)

"You wish position and power. I offer that. With your help, we can take Westwind-"

"Westwind?"

"The Roof of the World. Once we take Westwind, the Lord of Lornth, I understand, will be most suitably grateful." The tall man wipes his forehead again.

"That is what has been said," offers Hissl cautiously.

"To take Westwind will require four things: good tactics based on knowledge, an adequate number of armsmen, a good leader, and a very good wizard." The stranger looks straight at Hissl. "You are said to be a very good wizard. You also must have some coins and contacts which would supplement our coins in hiring armsmen."

"Many would claim what you propose is impossible. Many have already died." Hissl's eyes stray to the blank glass on the table and then to the half beaker of wine.

"Hardly impossible. Difficult, perhaps, but nothing is impossible."

Hissl raises his eyebrows.

"When we take Westwind, you may have the lands and title that Lord Sillek offers. I will take Westwind, and offer immediate and faithful homage to His Lordship. I think he will accept it," the stranger says.

"How can I trust you?" asks Hissl bluntly. "You ask me to risk much. Why would you offer me the leopard's share?"

The stranger spreads his hands, then wipes his forehead. "Look. You wear warm clothes. Na- The armsman wears a cloak. I wear as little as I can, and I am hot. Given any choice, I would never leave the high peaks. I would die during a long hot summer in the lowlands." The man shudders. "I could not take lowlands if they were forced upon me."

"How would I know this?"

The stranger glances at the glass and then at Hissl. "You know."

"Why do you come to me, and not to Lord Sillek?"

"Because that would place him, and me, in a most difficult position. He cannot deal directly with a man associated with the angels, but he could accept the return of his lands, especially if that return is accomplished with the help of one of his loyal wizards.

"To some degree, I am gambling that he will accept a man who is a stranger paying homage to him. But he has said that he will reward the man who overthrows the evil angels and returns the lands to Lornth. Because you are a loyal subject and of Lornth, he will certainly reward you." The stranger smiles again.

"How, exactly, would you accomplish this?"

"By wizardry, and by unexpected attacks." The stranger clears his throat. "Are you interested?"

After a time, Hissl nods. "Yes."





XCIII



NYLAN BRUSHED AWAY a persistent fly, the kind that hurt when it bit, as he had learned the painful way, before pulling the alloy from the forge. He blinked as he turned. Although (he brick forge now almost reached the roof line, it did not block the direct afternoon sun that beamed down on his dented, and oft-reflattened and -smoothed makeshift anvil.

Huldran took the tongs. Nylan lifted the hammer once more, ready to hot-cut, wondering if Fierral's endless appetite for arrowheads would ever be sated. Then, again, did any military commander ever have enough ammunition?

He laughed as he finished the blank.

"Ser?" asked Huldran.

"Military commanders never have enough ammunition."

"If you say so, ser." Huldran looked puzzled.

Nylan lifted the hammer again, then paused as he glimpsed a motion from the corner of his eye. He turned his head. Ydrall, her dark hair now cut short, ran up the road. Nylan lowered the hammer, then raised it again and kept cutting until the new guard actually entered the smithy.

"Ser?" gasped Ydrall.

Nylan set the hammer aside, and brushed back another of the scattered but persistent flies. "Yes?"

"Istril and Jaseen, they said you should come," she said in Old Anglorat. "Ellysia is sick, very sick, and the other healer, she is off trading."

"What's that about Ellysia?" asked Huldran.

"She's sick. Very sick." Nylan set down the hammer. "It's your turn to do what you can all alone. I'll send someone up to hold the tongs for you."

Nylan hurried, not quite running, first to the bathhouse to rid himself of dirt and grime, and then back into the tower. Still damp, the engineer returned to the tower through the connecting south door.

Ryba, carrying Dyliess in the chest pack, met him at the foot of the stairs. "They called you? Good. She's really sick."

"I'll do what I can. Ayrlyn would be better." He paused. "Could you arrange to send a guard up to help Huldran while I'm gone? Cessya, Weindre, someone like that? She's trying to keep forging arrowheads."

"I'll take care of it."

"Thank you." Nylan hurried up the stairs.

Jaseen sat beside the bed. On her bed, a dozen cubits away, Istril held Dephnay and rocked the cradle holding Weryl. Ellysia's face was blotched and pale, and Nylan could feel the heat welling off her face. Her entire body was drenched, both in sweat and in an unseen ugly whiteness.

"What is this?" muttered Nylan to Jaseen.

"Massive systemic infection, I'd guess. We don't have any diagnostics, or those fancy nanotech probes."

"Please .. . help me, ser." Ellysia's voice was less than a whisper.

Nylan took a deep breath, sending his perceptions out, trying to find a nexus, a center for the infection, but there seemed to be none. The ugly whiteness oozed from everywhere within the stricken woman.