The Chaos Balance

LXXXV

“Daughter.” Gethan bowed, slipping the scroll behind his back. “How is my young friend Nesslek?”

“Asleep, thank darkness.” Zeldyan offered a gentle laugh as she closed the door to the sitting room behind her sire. A gentle light and shifting shadows from the candelabra on the low table suffused the room. “He has the energy of three boys, but only a single mother.” Her voice lowered. “It is so hard to believe…the chaos fever…and now…”

“Was it chaos fever?” asked Gethen. “Fornal seemed to think otherwise.”

“Fornal…he…It was. Several children died in the town. You did not see what happened to the angels.” She gestured toward the larger armchair.

“Thank you.” He paused by the armchair. “They seem to be what they claim, and they have done only good for us. Yet…” He extended the scroll to her before seating himself. “I would like your thoughts.”

Zeldyan took the straight-backed chair and pulled it closer to the candles, then sat. Absently, she adjusted the malachite hair band before beginning to peruse the scroll, murmuring as she read. “The lord of the grasslands, the great Ildyrom, is unhappy…he claims that Fornal’s barbaric actions in destroying good horses-even if they were Cyadoran horses-prompted the white demons to fire and raze Bestayna.” Zeldyan swallowed. “The whites mutilated all the bodies-before they were dead.” After a pause, she asked, “Have you any word from Fornal?”

“None, but he has never been overly concerned to inform others.” Gethen’s tone was dry. “Especially his sire. I had thought you might have heard.”

“Not a scroll or a messenger.” The blond regent shook her head. After a moment she resumed reading.

“Lornth’s unwise actions…bring down the white empire on all of northwest Candar…must insist that Lornth reach an agreement with Cyador…or face not only the wrath of the Protector of Paradise but the undying enmity of Jerans…” She laughed harshly. “Sillek was right there, too.”

“Your consort and lord was right about much. He was better than the holders deserved, and many understand that now.”

“I am so pleased.” Her tone was icy.

“Zeldyan-”

“I know…I know, but who else will understand? Fornal does not. Like Lady Ellindyja, he is filled with the idea of an honor that will destroy us, much as he dissembles around us.” She stopped and returned her eyes to the words on the parchment.

“What think you?” asked Gethen when she lifted her eyes.

“Ildyrom is worried, but he wants us to face Cyador alone. If we weaken, he will take back the grasslands.”

Gethen nodded. “I am still bothered about the horses…that does not sound like Fornal.”

“No. That had to be the angels.” Zeldyan frowned, then asked, “Can a lancer ride without a mount? And can a mount be found in the Grass Hills of summer?”

Gethen pulled at his chin. “You think the angels destroyed the mounts to stop the white demons?”

“I do not know, but they would not stop if they felt it would work.”

“Perhaps Fornal was correct in one thing,” suggested Gethen. “These angels seek results.”

“You wonder if the price will be too high? Ask Sillek…if you can.”

“Zeldyan-”

“I am not fair, my sire. Sillek was fair, and tried to make his holders happy. He is dead.”

A gust of warm air puffed through the open shutters, and the candles flickered, and one almost guttered out before flaming up again.

The older regent sighed and touched his mostly gray beard. “The angels do their best to save our armsmen and your brother, and he doubtless finds fault with their methods each and every day. Ildyrom wants us to stop the white demons, but not if it carries the fight to his door, though it cost him not a single armsman or grassland raider.” He took a slow breath. “We have just begun, and Fornal was right. Lornth will change because of the angels.”

“Lornth would change without them, and not for the better, either. What other can we do?”

“I do not know. How would you answer Ildyrom?”

“You ask me?” Zeldyan laughed. After a moment of silence, she added, “I would suggest that the mighty lord of the grasslands far to the west of Clynya is welcome to join the fight against the white demons. Until then, he should not suggest conditions for those who fight and protect his borders.”

“He will not like that.”

“He will not like any course that is prudent for us.”

Gethen smiled. “You have a fair hand. Will you write such? I will sign and seal it with you.”

“Of course, my sire.”

“And let us hope that the angels can deliver us.”

Zeldyan nodded, but she did not smile.