the door, he looked up. Ayrlyn's face peered in.
He motioned, and the healer entered, easing the door shut behind her.
“Ryba and Saryn are still down in the great room, talking over something obscure, like whether caltrops are really that effective except in defending fixed emplacements and whether two-handed blades are useful in mounted attacks. Saryn was advocating lances and beefed-up stirrups . . .”
Nylan smiled wryly.
The healer shook her head and pointed at the stack of papers before Nylan. “What are you working on there?”
“The plans for the sawmill.”
“You didn't do that for the tower, or the bathhouse, or the smithy,” she pointed out, then leaned over him and kissed the back of his neck.
“I didn't have to. I was here.”
“You are serious, aren't you?”
“Ryba practically ordered me to bed Ydrall. She wants to see the gene mix with locals.”
“I take it you were reluctant.”
“That wasn't the real point. She was giving me another shove. I told her I'd think about it. I have no intention of thinking about it.” He rubbed his forehead.
“You got ink on your forehead,” Ayrlyn said.
He tried to blot it away with the back of his hand. “Then, when I said I wasn't the Gerlich type, she said I was, except that fewer women appealed to me, and if Ydrall didn't appeal to find a local who did so that she could confirm that the genes mixed.”
“Did she put it that way?”
“Pretty much.”
Ayrlyn pursed her lips. “That makes you angry.”
“That, and basically being told my prime value is as a stud.”
“She's angry at you for choosing me.”
“I'm glad I did,” Nylan said. “I wish I'd seen who you were earlier.”
“I wasn't who I am now back then, if that makes sense. I was a mousy comm officer.”
“Neither was I. I was a withdrawn engineer. I still am.”
Ayrlyn's eyes dropped to the papers. “Are you going to tell Ryba about all these plans?”
“Not until we're on our way out of here.”
“She may not let us have mounts.”
“That's why we need to make it quick,” Nylan said. “Right now, there's sympathy for me, for you. If we let her drag it out, it will get so unpleasant that people will just want us gone. She's proved she's good at that.”
“For someone who wasn't sure about leaving, you've reached a big decision quickly.”
The engineer-smith-healer shook his head. “To see something I should have seen two years ago? Hardly. Hardly.” He took a deep breath.
Ayrlyn bent over and blew out the candle, then kissed the back of his neck again. “You were almost finished for tonight, weren't you?”
“If you say so . . .” Nylan eased out of the chair.
Chaos Balance
XVII
THE WHITE WIZARD and the senior lancer officer rode side by side, the hoofs of their mounts clacking on the time-polished stones of the Lord's East Road.
They passed a kaystone with sculpted and fluted edges, mounted on a tan stone platform that bore the inscription “GELIENDRA-3 K.” The lancer glanced at Themphi. “Ser wizard?”
“Yes, Jyncka?”
“One should not question His Mightiness, or white brethren, but could you hazard a thought as to why our punishment was so harsh?”
“Harsh?” Themphi raised his eyebrows. “Harsh,” repeated Jyncka. “We are allowed to buy any peasant girl for a concubine, if we offer double her dowry. We can slay any peasant who raises a hand against us, yet for taking liberties with a peasant girl-and we did not hurt her- we have been destroyed: either executed, allowed to suicide, or condemned to spend the rest of a short life battling the accursed forest. How did this happen? Is our world slowly unraveling, and I cannot see it? Or have I been blind all my years?”
Themphi frowned. “I can tell you what happened. The girl's father refused two
He motioned, and the healer entered, easing the door shut behind her.
“Ryba and Saryn are still down in the great room, talking over something obscure, like whether caltrops are really that effective except in defending fixed emplacements and whether two-handed blades are useful in mounted attacks. Saryn was advocating lances and beefed-up stirrups . . .”
Nylan smiled wryly.
The healer shook her head and pointed at the stack of papers before Nylan. “What are you working on there?”
“The plans for the sawmill.”
“You didn't do that for the tower, or the bathhouse, or the smithy,” she pointed out, then leaned over him and kissed the back of his neck.
“I didn't have to. I was here.”
“You are serious, aren't you?”
“Ryba practically ordered me to bed Ydrall. She wants to see the gene mix with locals.”
“I take it you were reluctant.”
“That wasn't the real point. She was giving me another shove. I told her I'd think about it. I have no intention of thinking about it.” He rubbed his forehead.
“You got ink on your forehead,” Ayrlyn said.
He tried to blot it away with the back of his hand. “Then, when I said I wasn't the Gerlich type, she said I was, except that fewer women appealed to me, and if Ydrall didn't appeal to find a local who did so that she could confirm that the genes mixed.”
“Did she put it that way?”
“Pretty much.”
Ayrlyn pursed her lips. “That makes you angry.”
“That, and basically being told my prime value is as a stud.”
“She's angry at you for choosing me.”
“I'm glad I did,” Nylan said. “I wish I'd seen who you were earlier.”
“I wasn't who I am now back then, if that makes sense. I was a mousy comm officer.”
“Neither was I. I was a withdrawn engineer. I still am.”
Ayrlyn's eyes dropped to the papers. “Are you going to tell Ryba about all these plans?”
“Not until we're on our way out of here.”
“She may not let us have mounts.”
“That's why we need to make it quick,” Nylan said. “Right now, there's sympathy for me, for you. If we let her drag it out, it will get so unpleasant that people will just want us gone. She's proved she's good at that.”
“For someone who wasn't sure about leaving, you've reached a big decision quickly.”
The engineer-smith-healer shook his head. “To see something I should have seen two years ago? Hardly. Hardly.” He took a deep breath.
Ayrlyn bent over and blew out the candle, then kissed the back of his neck again. “You were almost finished for tonight, weren't you?”
“If you say so . . .” Nylan eased out of the chair.
Chaos Balance
XVII
THE WHITE WIZARD and the senior lancer officer rode side by side, the hoofs of their mounts clacking on the time-polished stones of the Lord's East Road.
They passed a kaystone with sculpted and fluted edges, mounted on a tan stone platform that bore the inscription “GELIENDRA-3 K.” The lancer glanced at Themphi. “Ser wizard?”
“Yes, Jyncka?”
“One should not question His Mightiness, or white brethren, but could you hazard a thought as to why our punishment was so harsh?”
“Harsh?” Themphi raised his eyebrows. “Harsh,” repeated Jyncka. “We are allowed to buy any peasant girl for a concubine, if we offer double her dowry. We can slay any peasant who raises a hand against us, yet for taking liberties with a peasant girl-and we did not hurt her- we have been destroyed: either executed, allowed to suicide, or condemned to spend the rest of a short life battling the accursed forest. How did this happen? Is our world slowly unraveling, and I cannot see it? Or have I been blind all my years?”
Themphi frowned. “I can tell you what happened. The girl's father refused two
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