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.
"Next," said a voice.
He looked up to see Ayrlyn standing there. "Sorry." He stood and moved away from the stream.
She smiled. "You don't have to be."
"You're doing well with Narliat."
"He figures he'd better do well. He doesn't have anywhere else to go. Besides, he likes the ratio of men to women."
"Has anyone .. . ?"
"Right now, Ryba would have their heads, but that won't last. She probably knows that, too. She thinks of everything." Ayrlyn paused. "Just be careful, Nylan. She uses everyone."
He nodded, hoping the darkness would cover his lack of enthusiasm.
Ayrlyn bent to rinse her platter, and Nylan walked to the lander, passing a pair of marines on the way. One was Huldran, the stocky blond who helped with stone-cutting; the other a solid brunette whose name he had not learned.
"Evening, ser."
"Good evening, Huldran. Are you on sentry duty?"
"Not tonight. Not tonight."
Once in the forward area of the lander, Nylan pulled off his boots. Then he sat in the darkness for a time barefooted, before he pulled off the shipsuit that, despite careful washing, was getting both frayed and stained.
When Ryba still did not appear, he finally stretched out, folding the cover back to just above his waist. His shoulders and his forearms ached, and his feet hurt.
"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.
"Next," said a voice.
He looked up to see Ayrlyn standing there. "Sorry." He stood and moved away from the stream.
She smiled. "You don't have to be."
"You're doing well with Narliat."
"He figures he'd better do well. He doesn't have anywhere else to go. Besides, he likes the ratio of men to women."
"Has anyone .. . ?"
"Right now, Ryba would have their heads, but that won't last. She probably knows that, too. She thinks of everything." Ayrlyn paused. "Just be careful, Nylan. She uses everyone."
He nodded, hoping the darkness would cover his lack of enthusiasm.
Ayrlyn bent to rinse her platter, and Nylan walked to the lander, passing a pair of marines on the way. One was Huldran, the stocky blond who helped with stone-cutting; the other a solid brunette whose name he had not learned.
"Evening, ser."
"Good evening, Huldran. Are you on sentry duty?"
"Not tonight. Not tonight."
Once in the forward area of the lander, Nylan pulled off his boots. Then he sat in the darkness for a time barefooted, before he pulled off the shipsuit that, despite careful washing, was getting both frayed and stained.
When Ryba still did not appear, he finally stretched out, folding the cover back to just above his waist. His shoulders and his forearms ached, and his feet hurt.
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