Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(25)

On the far side of the fire, Gerlich leaned close to a lithe marine-Selitra. The former weapons officer, who had taken to wearing Lord Nessil's hand - and - a - half blade, said something, and they both laughed, but Selitra glanced sideways at Ryba, who remained concentrating on Narliat.

Charred and fire-roasted rodents, mixed with the vanishing ship concentrates, were scarcely Nylan's idea of a good meal. Ayrlyn had found some roots that resembled-or were-wild onions, but without cook pots, their culinary value was minimal.

"... the lords of Lornth came out of the Westhorns here, many, many years ago, almost as long ago as when the old ones came in from the skies on their mighty birds with feathers like mirrors . . ."

"Are there any traders that cross these mountains?" interrupted Nylan.

"Traders?" asked Fierral from behind Nylan.

"We've got some local coin now, and some jewelry, and a bunch of blades. We could buy a few things-like sledges or wedges, cook pots. Most traders don't care about politics." Nylan cleared his throat. "Maybe other things."

"But... to trade with the angels . . . who would dare?" declaimed Narliat.

Nylan suspected that, had it not been for the stories, there might already have been traders, or some travelers, on the high road that crossed the mountains and ran below the ridge that led up to the high meadow.

"Anyone who wants coins," suggested Ryba.

Narliat looked blank, and Ayrlyn translated.

The armsman grinned. "Skiodra."

"Is he a trader?"

"That is what he calls himself, but he is a thief, and his guards carry blades that are often in need of sharpening."

"Sharpening?" Fierral's red hair glinted as she shook her head.

"They get nicked when they fight," said Ryba dryly. "How do we find this Skiodra?"

"He will find you if you fly the trade banner."

"We don't have a pole or a trade banner," pointed out Ayrlyn.

"Poles we can make," said Nylan, turning toward Narliat. "What does a trade banner look like?"

"A trade banner." The armsman shrugged. "It is a white banner with a dark square in the middle."

"We can put something like that together,"

"With what?" asked Ayrlyn. "I didn't notice such things as needles or thread in the survival paks."

"There are some needles in the medical kits-for sutures," said Ryba.

Nylan frowned, wondering why Ryba was so familiar with the medical kits. That hadn't been her training at all. Then again, as captain, she'd looked at everything. He'd been mostly involved in solving the shelter problem.

"We'll also have to make a show offeree when this Skiodra shows up."

Ayrlyn translated for Narliat.

"Skiodra is very polite if you are strong." The armsman shrugged. "If not, you become slaves, and he sells you to the traders from Hamor. That happened to a cousin of Memsenn's. She lived on a farm outside of Dellash. One day Skiodra passed by, and when her consort came home, she was gone. He chased Skiodra's men, and they killed him."

"Not a pleasant fellow." Fierral's fingers went to her sidearm.

"I don't think any of Candar is what we'd term peaceful," said Ryba. "The only way to ensure peace is through strength."

"That was what Lord Nessil said. But. . . now that he is dead, it may be that the Jeranyi will march, or the Suthyans." Narliat edged closer to the fire, then looked at the angels around him. "Truly, you are people of the winter. Is Heaven cold?"

"Colder than Candar, even than here," replied Ayrlyn, "except maybe in winter."

Across the fire, Gerlich and Selitra stood and eased away into the shadows, hand in hand.

Ryba and Nylan exchanged looks.

Ayrlyn snorted. "Poor woman. Thinks she's special."

"I've warned them," added Fierral, "but it does get lonely."

"I would make you less lonely ..." volunteered Narliat.

Fierral shot a look at Narliat, who immediately glanced at the darkness beyond the fire.

"He's learning Temple fast," laughed Ayrlyn. "Even if it's not that different from Anglorat."

"Too fast," said Fierral.

"Supper's ready," called Saryn. "Such as it is."

At the call of supper, even Gerlich and Selitra reappeared, no longer quite hand in hand.

Nylan followed the others, getting his helping of mush and chunk of blackened rodent, as well as a few berries and a chunk of wild onion. The roughly circular wooden platter was the result of a collaboration between some of the marines and Narliat.

He sat farther from the fire, on a boulder overlooking the landers, using his fingers and a crudely carved spoon he had made. The slightly charred rodent was tastier than the mush, but he ate both, and washed them down with water from the plastic cup he had claimed and kept.

Beside him, Ryba ate, equally silent.

After he finished, Nylan stood. "I'm going to rinse this off, and rack it, and wash up. Then I'm going to collapse."

"Wait for me." Ryba finished her last mouthful of mush. "I won't be too long. I have to check with Fierral to make sure the sentries are set."

"All right." Nylan walked over to the side branch of the stream, diverted for the purpose of washing, and rinsed off the wooden platter, then used the scattering of fine sand to wash his hands. After that he rinsed them and splashed off his face.