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Perhaps we can enlist their aid, she mused.
How do you propose to do that? With your own great wizardry?
No. I will use common sense and kindness. At times they work as well as
cold steel. She shrugged. If not, your blade will be near. And Father s.
What can I say? Fornal shrugged. We need armsmen and mercenaries and
coins, and you would bring in an angel mage.
We still need armsmen and coins, Zeldyan said. But remember that angels
also destroyed every small force set against them without magic and against
greater numbers. Relyn had twice their number, and whatever his faults, he was
a master blade. We need every aid we can employ, and perhaps we can devise
some good from what these angels offer. I will not let the unreasoning hatred
of the holders destroy Nesslek s future the way it destroyed Sillek s.
I almost pity this angel mage. Fornal shook his head. Then wring all you
can from them. I do not like it, but& as you say, we have few choices. He
paused, and added under his breath, And I have even fewer.
Zeldyan frowned, but only said, It cannot hurt to try to obtain with
kindness what one cannot obtain with force.
In turn, Fornal frowned once more, but momentarily, before he smiled. My
blade will stand behind your efforts, sister dear.
XXXVIII
LORNTH WAS FARTHER than it looked, and larger. The sun broke through the hazy
clouds and hung above the rolling hills to the west by the time the angels and
their escort descended the last low hill leading into the town.
Like all the towns Nylan had seen in Candar, Lornth was not walled, and the
houses went from a few widely spaced on large plots of ground to a point where
they were nearly wall to wall, with occasional shops sandwiched between.
Tonsar guided them down the street that the highway had become, a street
that pointed toward the tower Nylan had seen from a distance. At a closer
glance, Nylan realized that the buildings he had thought were plastered white
were a stucco or cement of a pinkish color, so pale as to appear white from a
distance. Some few structures were stone, like the tower, a light red stone
that resembled granite.
The streets were narrow, wide enough for perhaps three horses abreast, or a
single wagon, and an unpleasant aroma rose from the ditch on the right side of
the paving stones, a ditch that was an open sewer.
Nylan wrinkled his nose and looked at Ayrlyn.
She shook her head. No lectures on deaths from poor sanitation.
A puzzled look crossed Tonsar s face. Lornth is not poor.
Nylan worries about open waste ditches, Ayrlyn explained.
The people are required to wash them down every eight-day, said Tonsar.
There is a fine if they do not. He reined up as a cart half-filled with
barrels rolled out of an alley, pulled by a single ox, and then slowed as the
wheels dropped into the depression of the sewage ditch.
The squad waited as the cart lurched across the waste ditch, flinging dark
slime onto the paving stones. Nylan winced, and then shrugged.
At the end of the row of houses was a wider area, with shops on each side
and several pushcarts on the paving stones beyond the storefronts. A few
handfuls of people, mostly women, turned as the squad rode into the small
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square.
You are not exactly the most welcome of visitors, pointed out Tonsar.
I can hear that. Nylan shifted his weight in the saddle, and studied
those who stared at him, but none moved toward him as the party rode through
the center of the small square and back into the narrower street.
Less than three hundred cubits farther, the street ended, and they faced an
open green area, behind which stood the keep of Lornth. The keep was of the
pale pink granite, as was the wall surrounding it, although the wall was low,
not more than ten cubits high and only three cubits thick-a barrier more
suited to a rural estate than the domain of a lord, Nylan would have thought.
The two heavy wooden gates were bound in iron and stood open, guarded by
four armsmen on foot.
Tonsar reined up and nodded to the guards. The angels to see the regents.
The small thin guard with a halberd of sorts nodded back. The Regent
Zeldyan left word that she would see them in the tower room as soon as they
arrived.
Tonsar jerked his head in a quick nod, then urged his mount through the
gates. The sound of hoofs echoed from the pale pink paving stones of the
courtyard as the riders followed the lead armsman around the north side of the
keep or palace.
Nylan noted the relative emptiness of the keep. Only a score or so of
armsmen? Four gate guards?
The stables were in the rear of the keep, a separate building with a tile
roof and swept clay floors that smelled more of straw and horses than of
manure. Several clucks, brawks, and cheeps indicated chickens were located
somewhere nearby, although the smith saw none.
Nylan gratefully dismounted from the mare, stretching his legs and
shoulders, then his arms. His left shoulder got stiff more easily than the
right. His hand brushed the weathered lintel beam, reminding him that ceilings
were low indeed in low-tech cultures.
You may leave your mounts here in the stable. Your things will be brought
to your quarters.
Ayrlyn unfastened the lutar case. I ll take this. It s an instrument.
As you wish, angel, Tonsar said with a laugh.
Nylan worried about the metal composite bow, but saying anything would draw
more attention, and there was no way the locals could duplicate it. Besides,
wrapped in oiled leather, it looked much like any other bow.
Again, those few in the courtyard watched intently as the angels walked
back across the stones toward the keep building itself.
The armsman led the three up a set of stone steps and then into what
appeared to be an older tower, stopping outside a dark and polished wooden
door, guarded by a broad-shouldered man wearing a decorative breastplate and a
shortsword. The shorter blade made more sense for an interior guard. Beside
him was a page.
Announce the angels to the regent, requested the armsman.
The page slipped inside the door, but Nylan caught some of the words.
Lady Zeldyan, the angels&
Almost immediately, the door reopened.
You may enter, said the page.
Leave your blades outside the room, noted the guardsman.
Do all warriors leave their weapons? asked Nylan.
If you prefer, answered the guard, you may lay them on the table inside
the door. No one will touch them.
Thank you, said Nylan. I ll have to draw the shoulder blade. He looked
at Weryl, who looked up sleepily.
Why& oh.
The page opened the dark door, and Nylan saw the table, dark and battered
wood, waist-high. He placed both blades there, side by side, realizing that
they could still be taken before he could ever reach them. Ayrlyn followed his
example.
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A slender blond woman with piercing green eyes stood waiting. She wore a
purple tunic, trimmed in green, and green trousers. Her hair was swept back in
a malachite hair band.
I am the Lady Zeldyan. Please be seated. The blond woman gestured toward
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