Recluce 07 - Chaos Balance Read Online Free PDF Page B

much of that,” mused Gethen. “But why does the Emperor of Cyador trouble us now?”
       “According to Skiodra and the other traders that frequent the outlying stations-”
       “Outlying stations?” asked Fornal.
       “They do not permit outsiders' parties within Cyador-a few travelers perhaps, but certainly not traders, especially not after the Kyphrans tried to seize that isolated port town,” Zeldyan explained.
       “Guarstyad,” confirmed Gethen. “It seems to have roused this Lephi against us all. What do we know of him?”
       “Some of the Cyadorans have no great love of this Lephi. There was a struggle for the succession, and he ousted his beloved younger brother.”
       “I recall that,” Fornal noted. “In the end, the older brother murdered the younger, but they called it a battle.” The dark-haired man smiled crookedly. “Younger brothers have a way of being loved, I gather. Especially after they're dead.”
       “I don't think Relyn is dead,” said Zeldyan. “And I don't appreciate the comment. I have always loved you both.”
       Fornal looked down at the table. “I am sorry, sister. That was uncalled for.”
       “What do you think about Zeldyan's idea?” asked Gethen, his weathered face carefully impassive.
       The younger man nodded. “If we make the response flowery enough, we can manage several exchanges of messages. Especially if we express our concerns that it has been so long since last we heard from the great and mighty land of Cyador.”
       “We'll have to give in or express defiance sooner or later,” the blond woman cautioned.
       “It takes a fast messenger nearly two eight-days to reach Cyad,” said Gethen, “and we cannot be expected to respond the day we receive such a message.”
       “Fine,” said Zeldyan, opening her blouse and easing Nesslek to her breast. “We can buy a season, perhaps a year. Then what?”
       “Give the copper mines to Ildyrom,” suggested Fornal, “and let him cope with Cyador, except that wouldn't be honorable.”
       “Even if it were honorable, I would prefer another course,” said Gethen. “But the longer before we must face any other land in battle the better.”
       The three nodded, not exactly in unison, but in agreement.
     
     

Chaos Balance
    VII
     
    IN THE DIM light cast by the fat candles-one on each of the six tables-Nylan pushed the platter away. He'd eaten too much, too quickly. Then he smiled at the irony. A year ago, they'd all been on the verge of starvation-that had certainly contributed to Ellysia's weakness and the chaos fever that had killed her and left Dephnay an orphan. Now, Westwind had enough in its larders that Nylan felt comfortably full. Blynnal's cooking had also helped. Ryba had pulled her chair to the side, and the glowing embers in the hearth added some light and a gentle warmth to the big room. The Marshal rocked Dyliess in her arms, gently. “That was good,” Huldran said. Nylan nodded. Holding a sleepy Dyliess to her shoulder, and patting her back, Ryba pushed back her chair and glanced at Ayrlyn. “Could we have a song?”
       “I'll get my lutar.” The healer/singer rose. Behind her, so did Istril.
       “It's good Ayrlyn's teaching Istril and Llyselle the songs,” the Marshal remarked quietly.
       “I didn't know that Llyselle was learning them.” Nylan took a long swallow of water from his goblet. He didn't like the bitterness of the tea in the evening, not unless his muscles were exceedingly sore from smithing, and, despite his wiry frame, that soreness didn't occur that often anymore. Then, after almost two years, he'd adjusted to a lot of heavy labor, from smithing to practicing with metal weapons designed to inflict maximum damage on other individuals-preferably while escaping the receipt of similar injuries.
       “Like the songs . . .”
       “. . . some of them . ..”
       “... singer makes them sound so good . ..”
       Ayrlyn