Fall of Angels

CXXX

Zeldyan enters the tower room, flanked by Gethen and Fornal. All wear white armbands, and the faces of all three are stern. They glance toward the alcove.

Lady Ellindyja rises, setting the embroidery on the far end of the bench. “Your Grace.” Her eyes fix on the blond woman, as if Zeldyan’s father and brother were not present.

“My lady Ellindyja, and grandmother of my son, I came to wish you well in your time of grief and loss.” Zeldyan offers a head bow, one which is but the minimal formality.

“Your courtesy does you well, inasmuch as your grief must be even greater than mine own to have lost a mate and a lover and your son’s father all at once.”

“Great is my grief, as is yours. Yet I thought of you, and of how painful it must be for you to remain here, where you have lost so much.” Zeldyan takes one step beyond those of her father and brother, so that she stands that much closer to Ellindyja.

“This little is all I require.” Ellindyja’s eyes harden. “And I trust, regents of Lornth, that you will not take this from me.”

“As regents, we must look to the welfare of Lornth, and ensure that the gains made by Lord Sillek are preserved for his heir and his people.” Zeldyan’s voice is smooth, almost soft. “He sacrificed much to the cause of Lornth, and I would not see that squandered.”

“You are all so devoted to Lornth. So devoted that you ensured that the one who showed the greatest concern would not be considered as one of my son’s son’s regents.” Ellindyja turns her eyes on the gray-haired Gethen.

He does not flinch, and his gaze is steady as he answers. “That decision was his, My Lady. You know that. Know alsothat we, and the holders, agree in that decision. Those same holders also felt that the gains attained from the acquisition of Rulyarth should not be jeopardized by any effort to reclaim the wilderness on the Roof of the World.”

“Wilderness now? I can recall when the area was prime summer pasturage. And when they were screaming to reclaim it.”

“Wilderness,” affirms Gethen. “My losses there have matched yours, and the holders scream no longer.”

“Your losses are nothing as to what will happen to Lornth if those angels are not driven back to whence they came.”

“There are times, lady,” returns Zeldyan, “when the wisest course is to recognize what is. For a modest sum from us-”

“One might term it tribute.”

“-they have agreed to maintain the new borders and to ensure the peace in the Westhorns.”

“Whatever one calls it, the service is worth the price,” adds Fornal. “They have destroyed every raiding band in their territory, and they have made the mid-Westhorn road the preferred trading route from Gallos. Already the traders are talking of doubling their runs and using Rulyarth instead of Armat.”

“Those women will destroy Lornth.”

“Attempting to defeat them has nearly destroyed us already,” answers Gethen. “Karthanos has disavowed his agreements, and without the buffer of Westwind, we would be hard-pressed to hold Rulyarth.”

“Westwind? You have recognized this … bastard … tabletop … a place that has less than score two in their keep?”

“The number is more like fivescore now,” says Fornal dryly. “With a mere twoscore, they destroyed more than two thousand armsmen. Would you care to lead the next force, Lady?”

“Do not be unkind, Fornal,” says Zeldyan. “Lady Ellindyja has suffered deeply, as have we all. As have many of her old friends.” Zeldyan bows deeply, cutting off the discussion, her high-collared tunic severe against her chest andbeneath her silver-corded hair and coronet. “The world should see more of you, Lady Ellindyja.”

“I have no desire to see more of the world.”

“Alas …” Zeldyan inclines her head slightly. “For the sake of Lornth, and for the sake of your son’s son, the time has come for you to be seen in the world.”

“You would take what little that remains to me?”

“The world would take it, Lady. You may leave of your choice or face a hearing of holders, who may not be so generous.” Ser Gethen bows.

“A hearing of mongrel landowners?”

Fornal takes a half step. “I lost my brother to your devices. My sister has lost her lord, who wished not to face the witches of heaven, and you sit here and deny your schemes, the ideas you placed?”

Gethen extends a hand. “We wish you the best, Lady. My lady Erenthla bids you join her in Carpa.”

“Oh, a gilded prison, now?”

Gethen shrugs. Zeldyan’s eyes harden, as do Fornal’s. All three stand like crags of the Westhorns-looming over a field to be stripped and turned.

Ellindyja bends and picks up the embroidery. “Never let it be said that I would stand in the way of Lornth. And it has been a long time since I have talked to Erenthla.”

She nods to the three. “I will make ready.”