The Chaos Balance

LI

“We meet again.” Fornal glanced around the tower room, pacing from the table to the open window and back again. “Have we new information? I need to be on the road if we are to gather forces and stop the white ones.”

“There is a good chance that the Cyadorans will seize the mines before you reach there,” Gethen said deliberately, fingering the goblet on the table before him.

“Yet you did not bid me hasten? Might I inquire of you your thoughts on this?” Fornal’s words were almost languid under his cold eyes.

Zeldyan glanced down at Nesslek and shifted him in her arms, cradling him a shade more possessively.

“Zeldyan had some other pressing concerns,” Gethen offered mildly. “Besides, were you at the mines, you would be dead, and for no purpose.”

“You feel that the white demons’ forces will be overwhelming?” asked Fornal.

“Were you at the mines before the Cyadorans, as regent, you would be bound to defend Lornth, even to the last man, and neither the holders nor your honor would let you act otherwise. We do not have the forces to withstand the massed forces of the white ones.” Gethen smiled ironically. “In attempting to reclaim the mines, however, you may use any stratagem you wish, so long as it kills whites and proceeds toward reclaiming our lands.”

“Do you think the holders will see my delay as self-preservation or as wisdom?” Fornal pursed his lips.

“No one would expect you to depart without the most armsmen you could raise.” Gethen extended an arm toward the window. “Even the most honor-bound of holders. And you, certainly, are considered honorable and direct.”

Fornal laughed. “You find my methods too direct, my sire?”

“Often directness is laudable. Sometimes it leads equally directly to disaster. Wisdom is knowing when to be direct and when not to be.” Gethen gave a twisted smile. “And sometimes, events do not allow wisdom. At the moment, we have the time to exercise wisdom.”

“You suggest that we may not always have that luxury.” Fornal paced back to the window.

“Sillek did not,” said Zeldyan bluntly.

“Before long, we may not either, sister.” Fornal paused and looked at Gethen. “How do you recommend I use this…luxury?”

“I would suggest that you set up a garrison in Kula. The white demons will not risk their entire force once they hold the mines, but will try to raid and level the countryside. You could deploy your men to reduce their numbers with each raid. You can continue until you can retake the mines.” Gethen held up a hand. “I have talked with the angels. They will accompany you. Use the angels as much as you can. They boast of their training-give them the least trained and see what they can do-always in situations where their failure cannot affect you.”

“I am a plain man, and I cannot use fancy words to explain. I cannot make people believe white is black or black white. I mistrust the angels-or what they portend-and I cannot explain why. I know what I feel.” Fornal turned to the tower window. “Yet their blades are sharp, and they can kill white demons.” He touched his beard. “All the same, I fear mixing angels with armsmen will bring no good.”

“You avoid mixing them,” Gethen pointed out. “Give them the riskier tasks.”

“What of their child?” asked Zeldyan.

“They will have the child with them,” Gethen answered.

“I would have offered to take care of him,” the blond regent said.

“Ser Nylan asked for the loan of a forge to make a seat for the boy-one that would fit behind a saddle.”

“And?” said Fornal, an amused smile on his lips.

“I asked Husta to accommodate him, and to learn how good a smith he is, and anything else he could.”

“At times, my father, you are as cunning as a serpent, and at others…I do not understand. How can the angels be other than useless with their child riding with them?”

“I thought they should be able to bring their blades in support of you. As you say, those blades are sharp and deadly. Secora’s daughter Sylenia will ride with them as a wet nurse. She also has some experience in dressing battle wounds.”

“That would help.” Zeldyan smiled.

“I suppose the armsmen would welcome more healers, especially far from Lornth.” Fornal nodded. “But what of the safety of the wet nurse? We have few enough armsmen.”

“You have cooks and wagoners-and do you really think that your armsmen will touch the nursemaid of an angel-or live if they did?” asked Gethen. “And the angels will fight more fiercely if their child is with your force. What happens to him if you are overrun? Do you see how fierce your sister becomes in defense of Nesslek?”

Fornal’s smile broadened momentarily, then vanished.

“They will meet you in Rohrn in less than an eight-day. Their efforts in saving Nesslek have exhausted them, and the smith has not been able to forge yet.”

“Do you believe that such healing was necessary? I would not wish any ill for Nesslek, but how do we know-”

“Fornal,” interrupted Zeldyan, “have you known any child to survive chaos fever?”

“Then it may not have been that.” The black-bearded man’s tone was casually careful. “As I said, I wish the best for Nesslek, but after all the destruction the angels have created, you must pardon me if I am not fully trusting of their aims.”

“It was chaos fever.” Zeldyan’s eyes flashed.

“Then we are blessed, and can thank darkness for his deliverance,” Fornal added smoothly. “Yet, I still caution against trusting completely those of whom we know so little.”

“We will see.”

“That we will, sister, and I hope most deeply that your insights are correct, as so often they have been. Please pardon my caution, but one cannot undo a blade in the back, and the angels have shown no great affection for Lornth in the past.”

“Then keep them before you,” said Gethen.

“I will, my father. That I will.” Fornal shrugged. “And I pray that their blades will bring down many of the white demons.”

“I will send the angels with the force from the keep here,” suggested Gethen. “As we know, they are warriors. Let us see what they can do in training the worst of your force.” Gethen smiled. “You lose nothing.”

“Except time and men.”

“Even then, you win.” Gethen shakes his head. “If they are successful, then you take the credit for giving them the opportunity and testing untried techniques on a small group.” He paused. “If they fail, you point out that you were giving them every opportunity in a way that jeopardized the fewest armsmen.”

A smile cracked Fornal’s face. “That would work. I can appear generous no matter what. I can even say that the failures got two chances, and that will blunt some of the levies’ mutters.” The smile vanished. “Yet what we have learned so far troubles me.” Fornal looked toward the two others, then lifted his hands. “They are warriors and healers and scholars…and a singer and a smith. Does it not seem strange that two so skilled arrived when we need so much?”

A faint frown crossed Gethen’s brow. “I have thought on that. They healed Nesslek, and they healed the roan’s foot. The flame-hair said it would be a day or two before he stopped limping, but Guisanek came over to tell me that he seems totally healed.” Gethen paused. “Still, they are healers, and that will help you.”

“Wizardry…how do we know it will last?” mused Fornal.

“Everything they have done so far has lasted,” said Zeldyan. “Everything.” She shivered, and her green eyes were deep as they fixed Fornal’s.

Slowly, slowly…he looked away.

Gethen nodded to himself, almost imperceptibly.