L. Modesitt - The Chaos Balance

“So…another army could take Westwind?”

“Perhaps,” Nylan said, “although the tower would withstand anything short of a large siege engine, and there are more guards at Westwind now than when we landed.”

Zeldyan shook her head. “I would scarcely hazard a single armsman against your Westwind. We gain nothing, and lose everything.” The piercing green eyes raked over the two. “Since you are here, will you aid us against Cyador?”

“Yes.” The answer was simultaneous.

“Good. I had hoped you might. I had taken the liberty of installing you in a guest room in the south wing. It even has a bath chamber. The wizards said that baths were important to angels.”

“You know far more than you reveal, Regent,” Ayrlyn said.

“That is the business of regents, and, I perceive, of angels.” Zeldyan rose. “Tonight, I will have a supper sent to your room. Tomorrow, you will join us-all the regents-for the evening meal. Lornth is open to you.” The blonde paused. “For now, I would suggest remaining within the walls of the keep. Most within Lornth are not that charitable toward angels.” Her lips quirked. “I have no doubts about your ability to defend yourselves, but I would rather not lose any more souls, and not all of our people have enough sense to understand the futility of crossing blades with you.”

Ayrlyn followed the regent’s example and stood, as did Nylan, but the engineer had to bend to reclaim Weryl, who had returned to the carved chest.

Both angels bowed.

Zeldyan rang a small bell, and the door opened. The page stepped inside.

“If you would escort the angels to their guest chamber-the one in the south wing.”

“The big one?”

“The big one, Nistyr,” Zeldyan affirmed.

“Thank you,” Nylan said quietly.

“I fear, angel, that thanks will count for little enough once Cyador moves against us.”

Nylan suspected she was right, but it was still good to have a solid roof and food-even if he still had no idea of where their future truly might lie.

As he completed dressing, Nylan glanced around the spacious room, taking in the pale pink stone walls, the two ornately carved dark wood wardrobes, and the matching wooden armchairs beside a game table that doubled as an in-chamber dining table.

Ayrlyn sat up in the bed and yawned. “Do we find breakfast?”

Nylan shrugged.

“All right.” Ayrlyn set her feet on the carpet. “I’m outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered, but never outvoted,” answered the engineer.

“Voting doesn’t count here, remember?” She rubbed her eyes.

“It doesn’t, but what do you think?” Nylan sat and balanced Weryl on his knee, offering the boy leftover greenjuice from the covered cup.

“About what?” With another yawn, Ayrlyn padded toward the wash basin in the adjoining chamber.

“Zeldyan.”

“She’s pragmatic. Warm-hearted, but that won’t get in her way of doing what she thinks is best.” Ayrlyn looked at the wash basin. “She wants her son to have the best, and to live to inherit it. I’d guess that we’d have to have her on our side, but she already is. She needs us, although I don’t know exactly why she thinks we can help Lornth with Cyador.”

“We’re angels,” pointed out Nylan, deadpan.

“She’s not that credulous. She wants us to do something.”

“You would bring that up,” said the engineer. “Such as defeating Cyador and retaining these copper mines?”

“Probably, if not worse.” Ayrlyn struggled into her leathers. “I wish I had some outfits like hers. These are going to get too hot here.”

“For you?” Nylan laughed.

Thrap! At the rap on the door, the two angels looked at each other.

“Yes?” said Nylan, loudly.

“Your breakfast, ser and lady,” announced a voice from the door.

Ayrlyn unbolted the door for the square-faced serving girl.

Breakfast was piled on a single platter on a large tray-eggs cooked into a flattened mass with cheese, two long blackened sausages. Beside the platter on the tray were a loaf of black bread, two applelike fruits, two pitchers-one brown and one gray-and two empty green stoneware mugs.

“Visen had to guess, ser and lady,” said the dark-haired girl. “If you would tell the pages or me if there’s something you would like better, she would be pleased to cook it.” She bowed again.

“Thank you. This is fine,” said Ayrlyn.

With a nervous smile, the girl slipped toward the door and was gone.

“I haven’t had service like this in years,” murmured Nylan.

“I never had it.” Ayrlyn eased herself into the chair across the table from Nylan and Weryl.

“Sausage is pretty rank,” said Ayrlyn after a time, pouring greenjuice into her mug. “It feels all right, but it’s…something.”

“Blood sausage, I think,” Nylan said after one bite. “It is rank.” Try as he might, he managed only three bites. Weryl spat out his first morsel.

“The opinion is universal,” Ayrlyn noted, swigging more greenjuice.

“The bread is good.” Nylan offered Weryl the cup, and the boy grabbed it with both hands.

When the tray was empty-except for the uneaten black sausages-the engineer glanced at the flame-haired healer. “We’re fed. What should we do?”

“Talk to people,” suggested Ayrlyn. “Talk to as many as we can.”

After they had washed their hands and taken care of other needs, including a quick change for Weryl, Nylan eased open the heavy wooden door. The two wore single blades, those at their belts, and Nylan carried Weryl in his left arm, rather than in the carrypak still damp from washing.

The hall was dim, despite the light pinkish color of the stone walls and floor tiles, and empty. With a shrug Nylan turned right. Their boots echoed on the tiles as they headed toward the cross-corridor at the end of the hall. Around the corner and at the archway that led to the old tower where they had met Zeldyan, they found a pair of guards.

“Off-limits?” asked Nylan with a smile.

“If you please, ser,” answered the wiry guard. His taller companion remained silent, though both looked at the angels and then at Weryl. The boy smiled, and a ghost of a response creased the shorter guard’s face.

“We’re strangers here,” the engineer began, “and you could help us by telling us a few things we don’t know. No, I’m not after gossip, or anything like that. How old is Lornth? Do you know?”