Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(87)

"After that, we'll probably be on our own, I guess," said Ryba. "The snow line is creeping down the peaks around us." She turned to Murkassa and switched to Anglorat. "How .. . did you .. . come to Westwind?"

"I was sold to be the consort of Jilkar. He is a hauler in Gnotos, and a strong man. He beat his first consort to death because she angered him. She gave him only daughters, and then she ran away with a trooper from Fenard. Jilkar found them and let the man go." Murkassa shrugged. "He would have beaten me. He beats everyone. I heard of the tower of women, and I ran. If I did not find you, I would die in the Westhorns. But I did find you." A fleeting smile crossed her face.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."

"Can I stay forever?"

"If you follow our way," Ryba answered. "No one said anything to Jilkar?" Ayrlyn's tone suggested she knew the answer.

"No. He is the hauler. He takes the wool to Fenard. He is stronger than any two men, and he has a house on the hill with guards."

As the others drew out the sordid social structure of Gnotos, all too familiar a pattern, from what Nylan could tell, he sipped the tea and ate.

After the midday meal, Nylan returned to the north tower yard, and the cold wind out of the northwest. Huldran, Cessya, and Denalle worked on the roof, with Cessya lugging up the stones, Denalle placing them, and Huldran spiking them in place.

Nylan studied the stone that he was supposed to turn into a conduit. There had to be a faster way to cut the stone, didn't there? For a long time, he let his senses range over the oblong of black rock before him. He'd already discovered that he felt uneasy, so much that his head ached and his stomach twisted, if he even came close to mimicking the white lines of fire that the local mages effected.

After concentrating on the stone for a time, he finally placed the chisel and lifted the hammer. The reverberations seemed to be less when he didn't worry so much about precise chisel placement, but the order of the stone.

His progress was better with the new technique, not anything to boast about compared to the laser, but by the time the triangle clanged again, he had five more lengths of conduit bottom.

After he stacked the conduit in the corner of the bathhouse, on the eastern side under the completed roof, he flexed his sore and increasingly callused fingers-only small blisters.

"You really got that in place," he told Huldran, looking up at the expanse of completed roof tiling.

"Thank darkness that the healer came up with another keg of spikes." The marine reached out and knocked on the side of the crude ladder-pole she had just climbed down. "I never thought so, but you might get your bathhouse and laundry, ser."

"I thought you wanted the showers," Nylan joked.

"Choosing between stinking and bathing in ice water isn't a choice I'd want to make." Huldran lowered the ladder-pole, and she and Denalle laid it down under the completed roof, then gathered the spikes they had dropped.

Every single spike was valuable, Nylan realized, especially in a low-tech culture where each had to be fashioned by hand. He walked around the tower to the stream, hoping it wouldn't be too long before he could use the bathhouse. After washing his hands and face, he walked back around the tower and, as he neared the almost-completed archway from the bathhouse to the tower, he whistled a few notes. What were the words?

"... an engineer's work is never done, / not even after the long day's run . . ."

He smiled to himself as he opened the door, which no longer scraped the stones-although it had taken Saryn and Selitra most of a morning to plane and carve it back into shape.

"You seem cheerful, Engineer," said Gerlich. Narliat just bowed.

"The stone-shaping's coming better, and Huldran's got the roof in place."

"Good." Gerlich offered a quick smile, and he and Narliat turned, leaving Nylan as he closed the north door.

The engineer wondered why neither had looked pleased. Did they want to stink or bathe in freezing water? Or was it because each of Nylan's accomplishments boosted Ryba's authority and the satisfaction of the guards with her rule? And it was rule, Nylan knew full well, and there wasn't that much doubt in Nylan's mind that Gerlich would rather be the one doing the ruling-or that having Gerlich in charge would be a disaster. Ryba did what had to be done, but Nylan knew it wasn't always easy for her. Gerlich would end up like every other male tyrant on the planet.

He pulled at his chin, wondering why so many men had to dominate. Then maybe women would be just the same, given the chance. With a shrug, he walked toward the hearth of the great room and the aroma of fresh-baked bread and cooked onions.





XLXIV



HISSL PACES ACROSS the small room, then peers out the window toward the river and the stubbled fields that lie beyond. Although the sun glints off the puddles in the fields, the sky is turning the bluer green-blue that presages winter. The wizard looks away from the distant points of glare and paces back toward the table.

"Nothing! We sit here and wait. And Terek meets with Lord Sillek while I rot here."

He paces back across the small room, passing the table and the screeing glass again, then back to the window. The distant puddles still throw glare at him.

Finally, he seats himself at the table that holds the flat mirrorlike glass. He concentrates. The white mists swirl. He concentrates until the sweat beads on his forehead, although the room is pleasantly cool, filled with the scents from the bakery up the street, and the hum of conversations.