Chaos Balance
LIII
THE THIN, LONG-FACED young woman looked down at the pink floor stones. “Lord Gethen said you needed a nursemaid for your son. He and me, we got on well enough while you were ill.” A gust of hot air from the open chamber window fluffed her shoulder-length black hair, drawing a strand across her left eye, but she made no move to brush it back.
“You did,” said Nylan. “You were good to him, and I appreciate it. We are looking for someone to ride with us and to take care of Weryl. It won't be all that easy, not like it was here.” Nylan paused. “Do you ride?”
“Yes, ser. My father, he works for Edicat, and they let me ride when I was a girl.”
The engineer suspected that it hadn't been that long since Sylenia had stopped being a girl, although some women looked girlish forever. He reclaimed Weryl from the brass-bound chest where the boy tottered on unsteady legs, holding himself erect with one hand on the brass handle at the end while trying to step away.
Nylan carried his son over to the young woman. “Would you like Sylenia to be your nursemaid?”
Sylenia raised her eyes to the silver-haired boy and smiled. “A handsome child.”
“You lost a child?” asked Ayrlyn. “That was Acora?”
Sylenia nodded, then added slowly. “My girl. Only child.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Nylan. “It's a long ride to Clynya and the copper mines.”
“I am at your bidding, ser.” The slightest of shivers passed over the thin girl.
“Sylenia,” said Ayrlyn softly. “You are under our protection.” Her voice turned dry. “Such as it may be.”
“Lord Gethen ... he said none of the soldiers-”
“They won't,” Nylan affirmed.
“He said you were both mighty warriors . . . and that you would not leave your child behind.”
“That's true.”
Sylenia looked at Weryl again, solemnly.
“. . . aaaahhh-raaa . . .” Weryl gurgled and smiled, thrusting a chubby hand toward the dark-haired woman. “. . . aaahhh ...”
Nylan stepped closer to Sylenia, and Weryl's fingers brushed her cheek, exploring with a gentleness that surprised his father.
“I would . . . take care of him . . . like my own,” the dark-haired woman said, her thin fingers touching Weryl's. “Could . . . I?”
“Ahhh . . . daaa . . .” interjected Weryl, squirming in Nylan's arms.
“Leaving Lornth . .. ?” began Ayrlyn.
“I would as soon leave Lornth for a time.” Sylenia's words were firm.
“Good. That seems to be settled,” Nylan said. “We won't be leaving for a few days, but it might be better if we arranged some times for you to spend with Weryl and to show you how we do some things.”
“As you wish.” She inclined her head.
After Sylenia finally left, Nylan closed the door, then set Weryl back by the chest. The boy promptly grasped the hand-tarnished handle and pulled himself erect. “Daa-da!”
“Yes, you're standing, and it won't be that long before you're running everywhere.” He shook his head slowly as he turned toward the window, gazing out to the southwest. Clynya and the copper mines lay there-somewhere-and so did the white troops and Cyador.
“She's basically sweet,” Ayrlyn said, “and she likes children.”
“She's been ordered into being Weryl's nurse or whatever,” said Nylan, after a moment.
“That's obvious.”
“Zeldyan and Gethen, you think?”
“I'd suspect so.” Ayrlyn shrugged. “They're not happy with Fornal.”
“And they can't do anything about it?” Nylan blotted his forehead. He already was sweating all the time, guzzling liquids, and was generally miserable with the heat-and everyone told him that summer hadn't really started. He could hardly wait.
“What? Zeldyan's a woman, and no one in this culture thinks much of women as leaders. She's only a regent because she's Nesslek's mother, and because her family is strong. Gethen would be the logical candidate, from what I can figure, to be the lord if anything happened to Nesslek, but since Nesslek's his grandson, that sort of balances. But. . . Fornal would be heir if Nesslek died, and that means that any effort Zeldyan and Gethen made to get Fornal off the regency council would be viewed with skepticism. Besides, they can watch him more closely if he is a regent-”
“And that's where we come in?” asked Nylan. “We're supposed to keep him out of trouble?”
“Something like that.”
“It's never simple, is it?”
“Death's the only simple thing, and it usually leaves behind a mess for the living.”
Nylan smiled wryly. “You're so cheerful. Accurate, but so full of good cheer.”
“And you're not?” She grinned at him.
“Daaa!” added Weryl. For a moment, he looked like Istril, and Nylan swallowed. Was this how he was protecting her son? By taking him into danger? Except who else could protect him better?
Ayrlyn nodded.
Nylan shrugged.