He shook his head.
The shutters rattled yet once more, and the smith turned on his couch until his eyes rested on the closed window and shutters. He and Ayrlyn had started to get close before winter closed in around them, but the confinement of the tower hadn’t helped. Or had that been an excuse?
He and Ayrlyn had agreed not to sleep together regularly because…because why? Because he was treading on thin ice with Ryba? Because he didn’t want to just drift into another relationship? Because he recognized that Ayrlyn needed a total commitment, and he didn’t want to be forced?
With a deep breath, he turned back over, away from the rattling of the window and the low whistle of the wind.
Plick! A drop of water splattered on the planked floor, probably from the slowly melting ice making its way through the slates of the tower roof, in places where two winters had frozen and crumbled the mortar they had used instead of the roofing tar they did not have.
Plick!
The smith took another long breath, then paused at what sounded like a whisper outside his door-or bare feet on the cold stones of the tower steps. But Ryba’s door had not opened. He would have heard if it had, and he had had nothing to do with Ryba since before the great battle of the previous autumn.
Plick!
His own door opened, and Nylan glanced through the darkness, not that it hampered his view. The strange underjump that had translated the Winterlance to whatever world they had found-like all worlds, the natives merely called it “the world” or “the earth”-the underjump that had turned his hair living silver had also given him night vision that was nearly as good as his day vision.
Plick!
The figure that slipped into his room did not have Ayrlyn’s flame-red hair, but silver hair.
“Istril?” he whispered, half sitting up.
Her finger touched his lips and her lips whispered in his ear. “Just tonight. I talked with the healer, and we agreed.” There was a pause. “Unlike some, Nylan, I wouldn’t deceive you.”
“But-”
“I want a daughter, and I want you to be her father. This is one of my visions.”
Before he could protest again, the slight and wiry figure eased out of the robe she had worn and under the thin blanket, her skin smooth and warm against his-except for very cold feet.
“Your feet-”
“They’re cold, but don’t make fun of me. This is hard…” Istril shivered, and buried her head in his shoulder for a moment.
Nylan could feel the dampness of her cheeks on his bare skin. He eased his arms around her, even as he wondered. Ayrlyn? Istril would not have lied, not for anything.
Ayrlyn? Why would she have agreed?
He stroked Istril’s silver hair for a long time before he kissed her, gently, before her lips trembled under his, before he chose not to resist what had been offered.
X
Lephi gazed out across the polished white tiles of the Great Hall of Cyad and stifled a yawn. Just below the oversized malachite and silver throne, to the Lord of Cyador’s right, stood the white wizard Themphi. Farther below and to the left loomed Duhru, the Voice of His Mightiness.
“We might as well get this façade over with,” muttered the Lord of Cyador. “Announce the receiving of petitions.”
“His Mightiness Lephi the White, Lord of Cyador, ruler of all lands from the mountains of the skies to the oceans of the west, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, Son of the Rational Stars, stands ready to receive the petitions of his people. Those with worthy petitions, draw near with good conscience.” Duhru’s voice boomed across the great hall, and the three-story-high gilded doors in the rear of the hall slid open nearly silently, the hiss of steam merely a whisper lost in the vastness of the chamber.
Three figures slowly marched across the white tiles and stood on the shimmering and spotless tiles beneath the throne.
“Declare your petition,” rumbled Duhru, “if you are without darkness and a follower of the way of whiteness.”
The first petitioner-a mid-aged man wearing the white surplice of a petitioner over heavy work trousers and tunic-bowed. “Most powerful Lord of Cyador, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, hear my petition.”
“The Lord hears all,” responded Duhru. “State your petition.”
“The officers of the Eighth Mirror Lancers have dishonored my youngest daughter, and I ask redress. Only you can restore her honor.”
Lephi glanced toward Themphi.
“They say they used no force, and that they offered a dozen silvers toward her dowry,” whispered the white wizard.
“Those officers have honored your daughter,” declared Lephi. “I will also increase that honor by adding two golds to that dowry.”
The stocky man bowed, his forehead slick with sweat. “I seek no dowry. I seek honor. I humbly ask that you dishonor those officers. No officer of the greatest lord should defile a young girl.”
“The Lord of Cyador has heard your petition,” boomed Duhru. “You may go and tell all of his generosity.”
“NO!” The white-clad man charged the steps to the dais. “Your officers are pigs. They are sows, and you slop them.”
A flaming arrow flashed from the balcony gratework, the mark of an Archer of the Rational Stars, catching the man in the chest. The other two petitioners watched, mouths partly open as the first petitioner crumpled.
After a nod from Lephi toward Themphi, a fireball arced toward the dying man, then exploded. Only a handful of scattered ashes sifted through the air.
“Question the lancer officers. If they dishonored the girl, do what is necessary. If not, have her join her father.”
“So it is with unworthy petitions and petitioners, and those who reject the generosity of the lord,” intoned Duhru. “Let the next petitioner offer his petition.”
“Most puissant Lord of Cyador, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, the citizens of Wybar humbly beseech Your Mightiness for a token of his support for the blessing of the new river piers.” The elderly man in the white surplice added in a wavering tone, “Only a token, Your Mightiness.”
“They are fearful because Wybar is downstream from the Accursed Forest,” Themphi explained.
Lephi nodded. “You shall have such a token. May your piers bring all prosperity and good trade.”
“May the next petitioner approach,” rumbled Duhru, “if he is without darkness and a follower of the way of whiteness.”
“Your Supreme Mightiness…the peasants in Geliendra have presented a petition, and the regional governor has endorsed it.” The functionary in gold bowed twice. On the second bow, droplets of perspiration splattered on the polished white tiles of the floor.
“Lick those up, Husenar. I don’t like the floors soiled, especially when my administrators are acting for others.”
Husenar complied, then straightened, standing stiffly.
“What about this petition? Why need it be brought to me? Why did they not present it themselves?”
“The Accursed…Forest…rods and rods of the rice fields and the bean fields-those not already flooded-they are gone.”
“Gone?”
“The forest has awakened-”
“The Forest of the Nameless? Have the wards failed? The wards have never failed.”
Husenar bowed again. “The wards are no more, and the forest lives.”
“I have taken their petition under advisement, and I will act accordingly.”
After the petitioners and Duhru departed and the doors closed, Lephi turned to Themphi. “About that mess with the Eighth Mirror-”
“They could not so dishonor a peasant.”
“Themphi…did you not hear what I said? When a man is so distraught he will die rather than accept two years’ wages for a dowry, something is wrong. She is doubtless a spineless wench, but when peasants believe such girls are innocent they do not pay taxes, except under duress, and we do not need that now. I tell you again: you will find the guilty parties. If they are the officers, they can also choose duty to protect the people of Geliendra from the Accursed Forest-for the rest of their lives.” Lephi smiled coldly. “I want every peasant to know that I heard and acted, and every officer to know that girls outside the households of officers or the pleasure class are to be left untouched. I do not care how many paid concubines they have, but they must be sure that the purchases of concubines are well witnessed. Well witnessed.” He paused. “Of course, if it is the girl, and you had best be very sure, then she should be publicly violated by at least a company of Mirror armsmen. Whatever happens, I want both punishment choices made public, so that I receive no more petitions such as this.”