The Chaos Balance

XXV

“I do not think your stratagem was terribly effective,” said Gethen, looking over at his daughter and his grandson. “This scroll-it promises to flay us for our discourtesy, with all the might of Cyador.”

“No one else had a better one.” Zeldyan laughed, a trace of bitterness creeping into her tone. Nesslek sat in a small chair and grabbed at pieces of biscuit as she offered them. “We would be flayed anyway, discourtesy or not. How come your efforts to gather levies and armsmen?”

“Those in Cerlyn and the south are willing. They will even offer more than the required levies.” Gethen snorted. “Their memories are long. They recall the old days when any woman could be bought as a concubine and any father who protested executed.”

“I think they remember the executions more than the dishonored daughters.” Zeldyan sliced a small corner of a pear-apple and offered it to her son. Nesslek rolled it around his mouth before finally swallowing.

“Sadly, daughter, I would have to agree, but we must take any way station possible in this storm.”

“Have you heard from Fornal?”

“No. I fear he will have difficulty in obtaining any armsmen from Dosai.”

“Could he not use the levies for the border patrol with Jerans?” Her eyes went to the window and the thunderstorm that had rolled out of the southeast.

“I suggested that to him, and that may free a few good armsmen, but we will have to leave some there for seasoning and expertise.”

“You still do not trust Ildyrom?” She took a few sections of pastry herself and ate slowly, then sipped cold greenjuice from the goblet.

“Ahhhh…” Nesslek reached for the goblet.

“This is your mother’s,” Zeldyan said firmly, looking toward her own father. “I will feed you more later.”

“Sillek did not, and I did not, and I see no reason to change my views.” Gethen coughed. “Ildyrom will show the sharp side of his blade again when it suits his needs.”

“As will most holders and lords,” Zeldyan said, more to herself than her sire.

Gethen raised his eyebrows, but did not answer.