Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(169)

"Cynically realistic, Nylan. I'd like to change things, but I haven't figured out how."

"That makes two of us. I'd better stop talking, though, and start moving." Carrying Dyliess in his arms, not bothering to strap the carrypack in place, Nylan half walked, half ran up to the fifth level, breathing heavily by the time he stopped in front of the space where he kept his weapons.

Dyliess whimpered, jolted by his running, and he patted her back and laid her on the floor momentarily as he pulled out the second blade-one of the newer iron ones-and strapped it in place. That way, as Ryba had suggested, he could throw one, if he needed to, and still defend himself. Privately, he wondered if he'd be in any shape to defend himself if the first blade were accurate. Then, he could miss, and without the second blade, he'd be dead meat.

He picked up Dyliess and patted her again and again, before starting down to the third level, where Blynnal and Niera were rearranging cradles. Dephnay and Kyalynn were in two of them, and Niera held Weryl. The girl handed Weryl to Blynnal, who eased the squirming boy into an empty cradle.

"Blynnal?"

"Ser?"

"Here's Dyliess. I need to go." Nylan brushed his daughter's forehead with his lips.

"We'll keep her safe." The dark-haired guard and cook took Dyliess, carrypack and all. "Now, you take care, Ser Mage."

"I'll try." Nylan took a last look at the children, trying not to shake his head at the thought that three of the four were his.

He headed down the stairs, then stopped as he saw Siret laying out quivers by the first window to the right of the south door.

"Do you have plenty of arrows?" he asked.

"Two quivers."

"If any of them even look like they're getting close, pick them off." Nylan paused and pointed to the timbers behind the heavy plank door. "As soon as the last guard leaves, drop those in place. Don't wait. And barricade the north door, too."

"I will, Father Brood Hen." Siret gave him a crooked grin. "I'll even close all the tower shutters and windows except the ones that Istril and I are using to shoot from. She's up on the fourth level. That way we have two different angles."

"See that you keep them closed," Nylan said with mock gruffness. He turned to go.

"Ser?"

Nylan turned back to meet the deep green eyes.

"I'm glad you took a moment. I'll tell Istril."

A dull thump echoed through the lower level, followed by a second thump, and then a third. They both looked toward the north side of the tower.

Relyn strolled forward from the north door. "The north door's barricaded. So is the outside door to the bathhouse, but they could break through that pretty quickly." He slipped on the clamp and the knife over his hook, then the wooden sheath. "I hope I don't have to use these."

So did Nylan.

"I'd better go." The engineer-smith nodded to both, and slipped out the south door, hurrying uphill.

In the east, the sun hung just above the great forest beyond the drop-off, and tendrils of mist cloaked the taller distant firs. Nylan turned uphill. To the west, the morning mist was still rising off the hills.

As he half walked, half ran up the road, Nylan realized one other thing. The warning triangle had never rung. Then, he nodded. Gerlich knew what the triangle meant.

By the time he reached the stable, almost all the guards were mounted, and the three who had left the tower's great room with Saryn were riding farther up the canyon behind the former second pilot.

Llyselle held the reins of the brown mare for Nylan. "We thought you'd need this, ser."

Nylan, still breathing heavily, shook his head. His slowness in saddling his mounts was unfortunately all too well known.

"Follow your squad leaders!" ordered Ryba.

Nylan swung himself up into the saddle, the scabbard on his right side banging against the side of his leg as he thrust it across the saddle.

"Squad one!" Fierral raised her blade.

Across the grim-faced riders, Nylan caught Ayrlyn's eyes and pantomimed the question, "Which squad?"

Ayrlyn shrugged.

"Let's go," called Fierral, and almost a dozen riders followed her. The remainder followed Ryba.

After a moment of hesitation, Nylan rode after Ryba's group, where he and Ayrlyn brought up the rear.

"Do you know the plan?" he asked quietly.

"Not exactly. Gerlich is coming down the second canyon, and they'll try to use the ledges to pick them off, some anyway, before they can get out of the canyon. Saryn's supposed to get the ones headed for the stable, and then rejoin the main group."

"Not terribly well organized," mused Nylan.

"How can it be? Ryba can't station people everywhere eight-days on end. What if Gerlich never showed up? She's probably got plans for a dozen different cases."

"Still, it seems risky going put after him."

"It is, and Gerlich probably would have trouble cracking the tower. But we couldn't survive another winter without livestock and mounts, and he knows it."

Nylan nodded. So, to protect the outbuildings and what they contained, the guards had to take the fight to Gerlich, before he knew it. He also realized why ancient castles held everything-a realization that, as seemed all too frequent, came too late.