Part 22 (2/2)

Alouzon shook hands and made greetings. She was going to change all that, she said, but she had come to Quay essentially to find Relys and Timbrin.

”They are at my house, Dragonmaster,” said Hahle. ”But will you not even stay the night?”

”Can't,” she said. ”I don't think I brought any jets with me this time, but I don't want to take the chance. I'm going to check on Relys and Timbrin, and then we're off.”

”Off?”

”On Silbakor.”

By the time they reached the councilman's house, a large number of men had gathered around the three women. Hahle waved them back as, accompanied only by Wykla and Manda, Alouzon went to the door and opened it.

They entered quietly. Two women were sitting before the fire, their backs to the door. One, small and slight, was being held by a taller companion, whose right hand-chewed and mangled and livid with still-unhealed wounds-was wrapped protectively about her shoulders.

Even from a distance, even without seeing their faces, Alouzon could sense their inner wounds. Could she do something about that too? She had resolved to try. ”Relys, Timbrin,” she said softly, ”you have friends to see you.”

The two whirled, startled, and Relys's damaged hand went to her side as though for a weapon. But she had no weapon, and no armor: she was clad in a simple gown. Shaking, her eyes downcast, she stood up. ”Alouzon.”

Rape, the loss of a hand, fever, hards.h.i.+p: though Relys remained unbroken, she had been bent and splintered. Alouzon went to her and Timbrin, arms outstretched, but Relys drew back. ”Come on, Relys,” said Alouzon. ”I've come all the way from another planet to see you.”

Relys looked as though she wanted to run. ”A-Alouzon.”

”Come on.” Alouzon wrapped her arms about them both, felt Timbrin shake, felt Relys on the verge of hated tears. ”I'm back. It's gonna be all right ...” She lifted her eyes, wis.h.i.+ng she could see the Grail, addressing it nonetheless directly. You hear me? I'm telling them it's gonna be all right. Cut me some slack, please. Not for me. For them.

”Dragonmaster ...”

”Really, Relys. We'll get Kyria to fix up that hand of yours. She's changed a lot. You'll like her. But she fixed Manda's arm, and she can fix your hand. Give her a chance. And Timbrin ...”

The small woman lifted dark eyes. Alouzon might have been staring down twin wells. The lieutenant had been shaken, shocked into a loss of her very ident.i.ty, and as Alouzon held her tightly, she willed strength and recovery into her. Not for me. For them.

”... you're going to get better,” she said. ”I swear.”

You hear me?

Timbrin shut her eyes, laid her head against Alouzon's blouse. ”I believe you, Dragonmaster. I ... believe you.”

”What of Marrget and the others?” said Relys, and her tone-stronger now-said that she too was starting to believe.

”Parl and Birk bought it. Everyone else is all right. Vaylle's on our side.”

Timbrin wept with relief. Relys's eyes were open, black, hard . . . dry. ”Where have you been, Dragonmaster? In Vaylle?”

”Farther away than that, Relys. I didn't have much choice.”

A touch of renewed shame. ”You . . . know . . . about. . . ?”

Alouzon nodded slowly. ”Yeah, Relys. I know. We'll settle that score, too.”

Hope kindled in the cold darkness of Relys's eyes. ”I wish that very much, Dragonmaster . . . but ...” She looked away for a moment as though the shame were again attempting to break loose, but then she mastered herself and pushed free of Alouzon's arms. ”But what lies ahead of us?” Her voice was cool, professional. ”Helwych has warriors, but he also has Grayfaces and what he calls jets and guns and napalm. What shall we do?” She noticed Wykla and Manda then, and she saluted them formally. ”I am very glad to see you both.”

Relys had taken what she had needed, and then had moved away. That was all right: Alouzon, the G.o.ddess, was not here to force Her children into growth or recovery. In fact, she could not but respect Relys and admire her strength.

Holding Timbrin still, Alouzon called in Hahle and a few of his advisors and told them of her plans regarding the troops in Vaylle. ”It'll be crazy getting everyone here,” she said. ”I'm not even sure when we'll arrive. But whoever wants to meet us is welcome.”

Hahle was cautious. ”But what about the Grayfaces and their weapons? And the hounds ...”

”Kyria can take care of the Grayfaces and the jets. She's getting pretty used to it by now, I think. And she can magic up the swords and pikes so they'll take out the hounds.”

Hahle nodded, bowed. ”Clubs and burning sticks have served us well,” he said, ”but if Kyria can give us back the use of swords and spears, then I am well satisfied. I, for one, will be there.” A chorus of ayes erupted from the men in the room and those who had gathered outside the door.

”If Kyria will attend to my hand,” said Relys. ”Then I also. I would settle my own scores.”

”She'll do it,” said Alouzon. ”But it's still going to be rough. Helwych is pretty well entrenched in the town.”

Manda spoke up. ”Has there been any word from Corrin?”

”We have heard nothing from Corrin,” said Hahle.

”In Corrin are at least eight or nine phalanxes of warriors,” said the maid. ”You have but to send for them.”

Hahle blinked. ”So many? I thought Darham took all his men with him.”

Manda could not suppress her smile. ”He did indeed. All his men. But Tylha and her women were left behind, and they have been spoiling for battle for the last five years . . .”A murmur from the Gryylthans made her stop. ”I mean ...” She colored.

A moment of uneasy silence. But then Hahle spoke with the air of a man dismissing trivialities. ”Those battles are long done,” he said. ”We have common enemies now, and if the women of Corrin will help the barbarous men of Gryylth ...” He grinned, reached a hand to Manda. The maid clasped it. ”...why, then, we will thank them heartily.” But amid the shouts of affirmation from the men, he turned thoughtful. ”But how shall we send to them? The land between the mountains and the Dike is patched with wastelands now, and the villages are all destroyed. Burnwood, the closest to Corrin, was in fact the first to be struck by the bombs.”

Wykla, who had been sitting quietly and smiling her agreement, started. ”Burnwood?”

”Aye,” said Hahle. ”So Relys said.”

”It is true,” said Relys. Though uncertainty lurked still in her eyes, and though the determined set to her face might well have been a mask covering oceans of shame and bitterness, she stood straight and spoke evenly. ”Yyvas of Burnwood brought the word and then died of his wounds. The news became well known in Kingsbury despite Helwych's best efforts to suppress it.”

Wykla looked worse. ”Yyvas ...”

”But as for sending to Corrin,” Relys continued, ”I myself will go. I cannot wield a sword save with my left hand, but swords are useless against the Gray-faces and their-” She caught herself suddenly, considered, turned to Wykla. ”I am sorry, my friend,” she said kindly. ”You are from Burnwood, are you not?”

”I am indeed.” Wykla's voice was faint. ”Yyvas was my father.''

Relys stood for a moment, struck. Then, as if Wykla's need enabled her to put aside her own shame and uncertainty, she bowed and said softly: ”I grieve with you, Wykla. The G.o.ds will hear his name.”

Alouzon's feelings were mixed. Yyvas had rejected his one-time son, now daughter, and had done so cruelly. Wykla still suffered from the rebuff. But Wykla had never denied her father, and she was obviously shaken by his death.

”I'm sorry, too, Wykla,” said Alouzon.

”I . . .” Wykla lost her words, shook her head. ”Pray continue, Relys.”

Relys shrugged. ”I will go to Corrin.”

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