Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(152)

When Nylan stopped and took a last sip of the cool tea, Ryba slipped Dyliess out of the carrypack.

"Would you hold her for a bit?"

Nylan extended his arms.

"Oooooo . . ."

"I'm glad you agree, daughter."

Ryba stood, looking imperious. Nylan cradled Dyliess in his right arm.

"Ellysia died," Ryba began. "You all know that. You may be the best blades on the face of the world, but that doesn't make you immune to disease. The engineer built a bathhouse. I expect you all to use it-regularly. Cleanliness is about the only defense against disease we have left." The marshal turned to Blynnal and Kadran. "Everything you prepare is to be washed, cooked at least to a dull pink if it's meat, and all the way through if it's one of those wild pigs or a chicken. The same with eggs."

". . . tastes .. . terrible . . ." came a murmur.

"Do you want to have good-tasting food and die?" snapped Ryba. "There was a reason for all those primitive dietary laws we've abandoned. Just as there's a reason why the engineer nearly killed himself to build that bathhouse." Her eyes raked the group, and the silence was absolute, except for a faint infant whimper from the second table.

Nylan patted Dyliess on the back and chewed another chunk of bread as Ryba took her seat.





XCIV



"IT'S REALLY A pity, you know," Sillek says conversationally, as he bends forward in the saddle for a moment to stretch. "The harbor at Rulyarth is far better than the one at Armat. But the Suthyans are blessed with three decent harbors, and so they make the middle one their main trading point."

"Devalonia is icebound a third of the year," points out Gethen.

"So is Armat. That's my point. We could do wonders-"

"Let's not talk about wonders, Lord Sillek, not until we have Rulyarth and its harbor and can hold it." Gethen coughs and clears his throat, glancing up through the mist that is not quite rain toward the clouds that seemingly shift endlessly and yet do not move at all. "I hate this rain."

Sillek nods behind them. "Not so much as my poor wizards."

A messenger gallops toward them from the vanguard, and the two men wait.

"Where the road narrows and goes through a gap in the hills ahead, there is a force drawn up behind a barricade of stone."

Gethen raises his eyebrows. "Plans for the harbor?"

Sillek shakes his head. "I defer to the experience of wisdom and age."

The messenger glances from one lord to the other.

"Have the van halt. We'll be there presently," orders Sillek.

As the messenger rides north, Gethen asks, "Have you any miraculous plans?"

"Not yet. I have an idea."

"I hope it's as effective as the last one."

"So do I." Sillek gestures toward the chief armsman. "Rimmur! Have the force hold here in readiness. There's a Suthyan force behind those stones by the hill ahead."

"Yes, ser."

The two lords ride until they reach the van, and the rolling downhill stretch below the mounted foreguard. There Sillek reins up and studies the terrain. So does Gethen.

In time, he motions to Gethen, and the two ride aside from the others.

"They don't have more than fourscore there-mostly foot levies," points out Sillek. "The hill on the north side of the road is rocky, and they've only a handful of troops there. If we take the wizards, we should be able to use their firebolts and take the crest. From there, we can roll down rocks on them-rocks and firebolts."

"What if they reinforce the hilltop?" asks Gethen.

"The hillside is exposed. You have our archers fire at them. We can get rid of their hill guards before they can send others up the hillside. Then it will be too late." Sillek smiles.

"They'll start sending reinforcements as soon as they see what you're doing."

"But they won't see that. You're going to draw up our forces just about a double bow-shot length from them and go through elaborate preparations for an attack."

Gethen nods, then asks, "What if they attack?"

"Can you deploy the forces to kill them without losing many?"

"With more than ten times their forces and archers, I can manage that." Gethen smiles grimly. "I would still point out that you have a nasty turn of thought, Lord Sillek."

"That's because I dislike fighting."

"So did I. I still do."

Both men shake their heads before Gethen turns his mount toward the main body of troops.





XCV



THIN HAZY CLOUDS covered the blue-green sky, not totally blocking the sky, but reducing the sun's glare and direct heat. The usual breeze was absent, and the meadow grasses hung limp and still. The lack of wind left the early afternoon almost hotter than if there had been a breeze and no clouds.

Nylan was crossing the causeway, on the way back to the smithy, when the outer triangle, located in the small brick tower recently completed on the top of the ridge, rang three times. He had scarcely taken two steps when the triplet clanged again.

Across the fields, guards dropped warrens and hoes and scrambled toward the tower, fastening blades in place. As Nylan watched, two duty guards-Cessya and Nistayna, one of the older new guards-rode up toward the ridge. Before he could reach the smithy, Istril had ridden down past Nylan, leading three saddled mounts, taken immediately by Weindre, Kyseen, and Kadran, who all rode toward the watch tower.