The Chaos Balance

XXXVII

The black-bearded man stepped into the long room.

From the rocking chair, Zeldyan held up a hand and shook her head, then patted Nesslek on the back as she continued rocking. Fornal closed the door gently, but stood, waiting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. His eyes were cold as he regarded the boy.

In time, Zeldyan slipped from the chair, carrying the child, and walked through the narrow door into the small adjoining room where she eased her son into his railed bed, then knelt and patted his back. The boy murmured softly, then gave a sigh.

Fornal watched from the doorway, still shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Finally, Zeldyan stood and walked to the doorway to the adjoining sitting room. After listening for a moment, she closed the door, then crossed the antique Analerian carpet and reseated herself in the rocking chair. Fornal did not sit, but paced to the window.

“You got a message about these angels, and you didn’t tell me?” he said, each word said precisely and separately.

“You were out with the lancers. How was I supposed to find you?” asked Zeldyan reasonably. She lifted her goblet and sipped.

“Genglois tells me that you intend to make them welcome. You didn’t consult with me or father.”

“Father is at Carpa. I sent him a message. I was going to talk to you as soon as I got Nesslek down-if you were back.”

“I cannot believe you. You’re going to receive them, when they killed your consort?” demanded Fornal. “How will the holders feel?”

“I don’t care how they feel. Listening to the holders killed Sillek. Do you know, Fornal, that those women, and their mages or whatever, never attacked anyone first?” She smiled coolly. “Every time they were attacked they destroyed the attackers, but they never attacked. Besides, we have an agreement with them. What do you want me to do-give them real grounds for an attack?”

“You know I would not wish that.” He frowned. “But…Relyn?”

“Relyn is alive…and if he happened to be misled, it wasn’t by the angel women.”

“There’s no sense in starting on that again.” Fornal turned to the window. “We can’t undo what the Lady Ellindyja did.”

“Fornal.” She paused. “I think we can use them. The messenger said one is a man, and he looks like the mage Sillek described. The two have a small child.”

“That could be deception. After all that has happened, I would be wary of any black angels.” Fornal did not leave the window.

“That is possible, dear brother. But why would a mage bring a small angel child-the child has silver hair-into Lornth after he has expended so much effort to create Westwind? There’s another thing, too. I talked with Terek’s page. He says that the big armsman who led Hissl’s attack on the Roof of the World was a male angel. There were only three men that came from Heaven, and Lord Nessil killed one. The second attacked his own folk and was killed, and the third, who has to be the mage, is traveling through Lornth with a consort and a child. What does that tell you?”

“He’s going to try to get us to do something.” Fornal turned and spread his hands. “How will we know until it’s too late?”

“If he is the mage who destroyed three white wizards, why is he here?”

“Should I care, sister dear? Rather we should send them on their way, since we dare not kill them under our…agreement.”

Zeldyan stood, and her eyes blazed. “If you do not care, Fornal, then you are a bigger fool than Hissl and all of the holders together. You and they are right about one thing. The angels do not like men. They have driven out one of the most powerful mages in Candar, or he has left because he does not wish to remain. We face a renewed Cyador, and we have little enough in the way of resources to withstand the white legions. We had three white wizards. We have none. Would it not be worth something to enlist the support of the mage who destroyed them?”

“My sister, I know you wish the best for Lornth and for Nesslek, but is it wise to bring in a dark angel whose folk have brought us naught but death and grief?”

Zeldyan pursed her lips, and her brows furrowed. “Can it harm us to talk to them? We know so little.”

“There is some risk, but, so long as we have cold steel nearby, I would think not. Information is useful…if the cost prove not too great.”

“Perhaps we can enlist their aid,” she mused.

“How do you propose to do that? With your own great wizardry?”

“No. I will use common sense and kindness. At times they work as well as cold steel.” She shrugged. “If not, your blade will be near. And Father’s.”

“What can I say?” Fornal shrugged. “We need armsmen and mercenaries and coins, and you would bring in an angel mage.”

“We still need armsmen and coins,” Zeldyan said. “But remember that angels also destroyed every small force set against them without magic and against greater numbers. Relyn had twice their number, and whatever his faults, he was a master blade. We need every aid we can employ, and perhaps we can devise some good from what these angels offer. I will not let the unreasoning hatred of the holders destroy Nesslek’s future the way it destroyed Sillek’s.”

“I almost pity this angel mage.” Fornal shook his head. “Then wring all you can from them. I do not like it, but…as you say, we have few choices.” He paused, and added under his breath, “And I have even fewer.”

Zeldyan frowned, but only said, “It cannot hurt to try to obtain with kindness what one cannot obtain with force.”

In turn, Fornal frowned once more, but momentarily, before he smiled. “My blade will stand behind your efforts, sister dear.”