[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

equivalent, and no one s chasing us? Are you sure you re all right?
 I d bet those three armsmen were the entire local constabulary. They got
killed. Now, that was outside of town. First, few if any of the locals are
going to have the initiative to go see what happened, and those that do aren t
about to say because it would implicate them. That means every local can deny
involvement, and most probably will. Plus, in this kind of system, who is
going to want to travel to the next town or military district or whatever, to
explain what happened-and risk rather direct interrogation? The reaction is
bound to be slow.
 Systems like that don t work.
 Oh, yes, they do. She said grimly.  These& Cyadorans have a highly
developed sense of passive resistance and absolute military or aristocratic
authority over anyone who doesn t fit. It s pretty obvious that any woman out
in public is free game, but safe behind her house walls. Local men are
probably respected by the aristocrats so long as they scrape and bow in
public, and the local men stay as far from the aristocrats as possible. Look
at the houses. Unless you re a local, how would you even be sure who lives
where? The nonaristocrats aren t allowed weapons, and I d bet that even the
aristocrats face stiff social restrictions on how and when they can use
theirs.
 Except for stealing from the fields, we can t and won t get supplies,
because they re locked up to ensure rigid accounting, and because every store
will slam a very heavy door before you can get there. If we did get inside the
walls, then the local rules would make us fair game, and these people have a
lot of pent-up aggression, I d bet.
 Every armed force has the right to kill or torture us, the redhead
continued- or rape Sylenia and me-or you, if that s how they re inclined. The
borders are closed, and geographically isolated, which limits strangers, and
singles them out. Ayrlyn yawned.  No, as long as they can keep out large
numbers of strangers, the system will work fine. And in some ways, probably
better than other societies in Candar.
Nylan swallowed in the darkness. What Ayrlyn said made sense, perfect
sense-even the precisely edged woodlots. But he had trouble believing it.
 I know. So do I, but it all fits.
 I keep wondering if this is just a fool s quest.
 I have all along. She chuckled, except it was a low and bitter sound.
 But what choice do we have? Could we hold up to another battle?
 No. The brief encounter with the overmatched Cyadoran locals had proved
that. As Ayrlyn had pointed out, they might not have been able to survive if
they d let the Cyadorans start the attack. The next time, even if they drew
steel and struck first, he wasn t sure they d be able to hold up as well as
they had the last.
 Do you want to spend the rest of your life running and sweating your way
through Candar, always looking to your back? Or do you want to crawl back to
Ryba?
Nylan winced.
 Well& any other ideas?
He didn t have any-not that were any better. At least, if they could find&
something& in the forest& some way to stop the Cyadorans& then they might be
able to retreat to a hilltop in Lornth.
 We ll never be able to retreat anywhere, Nylan, Ayrlyn broke in.  We
might be lucky enough to have a permanent home from which we can sally forth.
The grasshopper or cricket chirped again, and the sound reverberated inside
Nylan s ears and skull.
 Get some sleep. You re tired. I ll wake you if I get sleepy.
 You re sleepy, too, he protested.
Page 247
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 Not as sleepy as you are.
Nylan leaned against her thigh and closed his eyes. Maybe& maybe& he could
sleep.
CXV
NYLAN GLANCED FROM the back trail they took across the low fields toward where
the main road was, roughly paralleling their track, but both roads were empty,
although even the smaller trail they followed had heavy recent tracks. He
rubbed his forehead, then blotted it. Now that the air was more humid, almost
misting, if only slightly cooler, he was sweating even more, and not just from
under his floppy hat.
From behind Sylenia s saddle came the plaintive plea,  Mah wadah, pease?
An exasperated look crossed the nursemaid s face, and Nylan pursed his lips
together as he turned in his own saddle. Weryl couldn t be that thirsty! Every
kay the child asked for more water, and his own senses told him that his son
was fine, and that meant he needed attention-or wanted it. Nylan knew he d
been neglecting Weryl some, but not totally, and certainly Sylenia paid more
than enough attention.
 Stop feeling guilty, snapped Ayrlyn.  You exude guilt, and that s exactly
what he wants. Young children have no sense of ethics or restraint when it
comes to getting affection, and your son s no exception.
 Neither am I, said Nylan.
 You have some restraint. I restrain you.
The engineer grinned.  How far, do you think? I can sense something.
 Just something?
 Trees are easier for you; the ground is easier for me, and the forces
underneath are getting fainter.
 Somehow, that makes sense. Ayrlyn cocked her head to one side, as if
listening.  A couple of kays, I d guess, probably over that low rise ahead.
Although they d been cautious and circled several towns, neither of them
had sensed any pursuit. They d been lucky enough to find a melon field, with a
few nearly ripe fruits and a small orchard with something like apples.
Nylan had suffered a slight stomachache from too many of the apples, but
they had almost been worth it after days of hard cheese and harder biscuits.
He wished they d had the presence of mind to search the saddlebags of the
Cyadoran armsmen they d killed, but neither he nor Ayrlyn had been in much
shape to think of such.
He tried not to think of how they would eat on their return-or while they
were investigating the forest.
A slight breeze cooled his face, and faint droplets of water began to fall,
not quite rain, but more than mist. He shifted his weight in the saddle again,
trying to relieve the soreness. Above the rise was a darkness in the distance,
with a greenish cast.
 Will it rain harder? asked Sylenia.
 No, answered Ayrlyn.  It will probably stop in a while.
Nylan frowned, looking again at the greenish darkness in the distance,
wondering if Ayrlyn was right about the rain.
The three followed the road up the rise, past the deserted bean fields.
Ayrlyn reined up. So did Nylan.
Across the low depression from them, a depression filled with fields,
perhaps two kays away, rose a wall of green, shrouded slightly by the misty
rain.
Nylan shivered. Not clouds, but towering trees.
 The forest& never have I seen such, marveled Sylenia.
Nylan s eyes went to the low expanse before them, and he studied the
irregular lines of greenery that spilled across the abandoned fields. Then he
tried to extend his feelings, those shadowy perceptions he used when smithing,
toward the scene below.
Page 248
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Like two hammer blows, a line of darkness and a line of whiteness, unseen, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]