The Chaos Balance

LXXXVIII

The blond woman cooled herself with a narrow, bone-backed feather fan, then took a sip of greenjuice from the goblet on the table. The air in the sitting room hung so heavy that none of the candles even flickered, and the silhouetted shadows on the wall appeared painted there as the two regents sat motionless for a lingering moment.

“Your brother is most upset,” Gethen began slowly. “I have never seen such words on a message scroll.”

“The words must be terrible,” offered Zeldyan with a smile, fanning herself once more.

Gethen eased the scroll across the table to his daughter. “I would not try to repeat them.”

Zeldyan set aside the fan and began to read, while Gethen refilled his goblet, then half-drained it with a single long swallow. He blotted his forehead as she read.

“It is hot, too hot,” he finally said into the silence.

His daughter nodded and continued reading.

Gethen refilled his goblet once more.

“He sounds like Lady Ellindyja,” mused the blonde as she set down the scroll, “with all the talk of honor. And his concerns about the holders.”

“He does, but we cannot ignore them.” Gethen lifted his goblet, but lowered it down without drinking. “What the angels do disturbs me as well. They teach levies to be armsmen, and that is well. But their tactics…they will do anything to win.”

Zeldyan touched her chin, then frowned. “Is it so terrible that they have found a way to destroy more of the white demons? Or to keep them from raiding our hamlets?”

“What will happen if the angels are successful?”

“And you think that our levies will learn that also?” asked Zeldyan.

“There is that possibility.”

“And there will be revolts against bad holders?”

“Fornal was right. The angels will change Lornth. They are already doing so.” Gethen pursed his lips, then scratched his right ear. “Their actions will bring all the white demons in Cyador to our doorstep. And with what will we stop them, then?” asked the older regent.

“They would take Lornth piecemeal without the angels.” Zeldyan stood and walked to the doorway to the adjoining sleeping chamber, where she listened for a time before returning. “He’s sleeping, but I thought I heard something.” She lifted the goblet, sipped, and walked to the open window, so smoothly that the candles did not flicker as she passed. “You are right, my sire. Yet what choice have we? With the angels, Lornth will change, and much we hold dear will vanish. Without them, all will be destroyed.”

“Then let us hope the angels have a way to stop tens of thousands of white demons. For that is what it will come to.”

Zeldyan looked down on the few scattered lights that were Lornth for a time before turning. “Must it always come to that? If we defend ourselves adequately, then we face greater force and hatred, not only from without, but from our holders. If we do not, we face death or becoming vassals. Be those not the choices you pose, my sire?”

Gethen took a deep breath, deep enough that the candles wavered, but did not answer.

“Have I not stated what choices there be, my father?” asked Zeldyan more softly.

Gethen looked into the goblet, but found no answers, and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “You have seen what your lord saw, and that bodes ill. Mayhap, the angels can stop the white demons…mayhap. But I like not trusting in strangers and stranger magery. And I like not a land where holders may be questioned by peasants. For it will come to that.”

“Nor I. Nor I.” She paused. “Yet…better Lornth than no Lornth.”

The faintest breath of hot air seeped into the room, so faint that it did not move the silhouetted shadows that again appeared painted on the sitting room walls.