Hryessa had been more helpful. “My uncle, he once showed me his snares and his nets …”
After listening to descriptions of snares and setting them, Nylan had decided nets were more practical in the deep snow of the Roof of the World.
Then, he hadn’t considered the sheer tediousness of making the damned net. With a slow deep breath, he started cutting, trying to keep his hands steady, knowing that, as in everything, he really couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, to waste any of the leather.
He rubbed his nose, trying to hold back a sneeze. With the dust left over from building and the sawdust from woodworking and the soot from the furnace, he wondered why they weren’t all sneezing.
Kkhhhchew! Kkhchew! The engineer rubbed his sore nose again.
“It’s hard to keep from sneezing,” said Siret from where she smoothed the sideboards of her cradle. “I hate it when I sneeze, especially now.”
Behind and around Nylan, guards worked on their own projects. Ayrlyn was attempting a crude lutar, using fibercabling from one of the landers as strings. Surprisingly Hryessa also worked on a lutar.
As he knelt on the slate floor, Nylan caught a glimpse of boots nearing.
“It’s getting presentable in size,” said Ryba.
Nylan stood. “The net? Yes. Whether it will work is anotherquestion, but I thought I’d try for another niche in the ecological framework.”
The marshal laughed. “When you talk about hunting, you sometimes still sound like an engineer.”
“I probably always will.”
“What else are you working on?” Her eyes went to the wood behind Nylan.
He gestured, glad that the cradle’s headboard was turned so the carving was to the wall. While he couldn’t conceal the cradle itself, he wanted some aspect of it to be a surprise.
“The cradle for Dyliess. A chair.” He laughed. “Once the cradle’s done, I’ll have to start on a bed. Children grow so fast. But that will have to wait a bit, until the snows melt, and until we’re in better shape.”
“At times, I feel like life here is always a struggle between waiting and acting, and that I’ll choose the wrong thing to wait on because we don’t have enough of anything.” Ryba forced a laugh. “I suppose that’s just life anywhere.”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Checking on what everyone else is doing. Then I’ll start pulling out guards for blade practice.”
“You’re still doing that on the fifth level? It’s dark up there.”
“It works fine. They really have to concentrate. Besides, using a blade has to be as much or more by feel as by sight.” Ryba cleared her throat. “Nylan … you need practice with a blade. A lot more practice.”
“Another vision?” he answered glumly.
“Another vision.” There was nothing light in her voice.
“All right. After I get a little more done on the net.”
“I’ll be a while. I need to talk to Kyseen.” Ryba’s eyes passed over the back side of the cradle’s headboard without pausing as she turned and crossed the space toward the kitchen.
Nylan’s ears followed her progress.
“ … not a warm bone in her body …”
“ … like the queen of the world …”
“ … even cold with the engineer … show him some warmth …”
“ … she’s not kept in a corner, caged up, like me,” added Murkassa. “She can walk the snows.”
Istril, almost like a guardian, touched the Gallosian woman’s arm. “It is getting warmer. It won’t be that long.”
“ … too long, already. The stones of the walls will fall in upon me …”
All the guards were getting worn and frazzled. Nylan hoped that Istril were right, that it wouldn’t be that long, but he wasn’t counting on it. That was why he worked on the net.
“ … never loses sight of the weapons, does the marshal?” asked Siret, not looking up from her continued smoothing of the sideboards of the cradle she knelt beside.
“No, and she’s right, even if I dread getting bruised and banged up.”
“You do better than most, ser.”
“You’re kind, Siret, but she makes me feel like an awkward child, even when she’s carrying extra weight and is off balance.”
“What about me, ser?” asked the visibly pregnant guard.
“You’re still sparring?”
“She says that the men around here could give a damn if I’m with child. Or have a babe in arms.”
“She’s probably right about that, too,” Nylan answered slowly.
“Sad, isn’t it?”
They both took deep breaths, almost simultaneously. Then Siret grinned, and Nylan found himself doing the same.
LX
SILLEK WALKS INTO the armory, followed by Terek. The Lord of Lornth spots the assistant chief armsman, sharpening a blade with a whetstone. “Rimmur?”
The thin man looks up from the stool, then stands quickly. “Yes, ser?”
Behind Sillek, Terek closes the door.
“How can I help you, ser?”
“Since Koric remains to hold Clynya, I need you to make sure that our armsmen are ready to travel as soon as the roads firm. I don’t mean an eight-day later. I mean the day I lift my blade. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ser. Where do we make ready to go?”
“I’m not telling you. Nor will I until we start to march.” Sillek’s smile is grim.
“Ser … that’ll make it hard …” Rimmur’s words die under Sillek’s glare. “I mean … the men …”
“Let me explain it,” answers Sillek. “I have Ildyrom and the Jeranyi to the west, and these evil angels to the east. If I announce I’m going after the angels, Ildyrom will be in and through Clynya within days after the snows melt, or the rains stop, and the roads firm. If I go after Ildyrom, the traders will raise their prices and lower what they pay, and the angels will be free to take over more of the Westhorns, including the trade routes and the lower pastures. If I do nothing, everyone will think they can make trouble.”
“Yes, ser,” answered Rimmur. “Which are you going to do?”
Sillek slaps his forehead theatrically and glares at the assistant armsman. “If I tell you and the armsmen of Lornth that I’m going after Ildyrom, then everyone will tell everyone else, and in three days all of Candar will know, and the traders and the angels will make trouble. If I say I’m going after the angels, then Ildyrom and his war-women will make trouble. So I can’t say. You just have to get them ready. I’ll announce where later.”
“Yes, ser. They won’t like it, ser.”
“Rimmur … do they want to know and be dead, or not know and be alive?”
“Ser?”
“If no one knows where we’re going, whether it’s after Ildyrom or the black angels, then our enemies can’t plan. Ifthey can’t plan, then fewer of our men get killed. So just get them ready. Tell them what I told you.”
“Yes, ser.” Rimmur stands and waits.
As Terek and Sillek head up the narrow steps to the upper levels of the tower, the white wizard clears his throat, finally saying, “You never did indicate … ser …”
“That’s right, Terek. I did not. I do not know what sort of screeing or magic the angels have. So my decision remains unspoken until we leave. That way, Ildyrom and the angels have to guess not only which one I intend to attack, but also when.”
“As Rimmur said, ser, that makes preparation uncertain.”
“Terek … before this is all over, we’ll end up fighting them both. So prepare for both eventualities.” Sillek steps out onto the upper landing and turns. “Your preparations won’t be wasted.”
“Yes, ser.” Terek inclines his head.
“Good.” Sillek turns and walks down the corridor to the quarters where Zeldyan waits.
LXI
THE NIGHT WIND whistled outside the tower windows, rattling the shutters on the partitioned-off side so much that small fragments of ice broke off and dropped to the floor inside the sixth level. From the third level below came the faint crying of an infant, Dephnay, but the crying died away, replaced by the faintest of nursing sounds, and gentle words.