The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [102]
Creslin doesn’t like thinking about an ocean of air. The ocean of water is giving him enough difficulty. “No,” he finally admits.
“When you shift the winds, you shift the ocean of air. The more you change it, the more you stir things up.”
“I was supposed to let them kill us?” Creslin forgets that his stomach is twisting.
“I never said that. That’s your guilt, not mine.”
“What do you want?”
“Your understanding, and to teach you how to use what you have.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Klerris smiles softly, sadly. “As you wish.” He turns and leaves Creslin at the railing.
Creslin, watching the swells, lets the cold salt air wash over him as the day begins to fade.
LXII
“KORWEIL DID THAT?” muses the Marshall, her voice calm as she looks up from the supply ledgers she is reviewing.
Llyse nods. “That’s what the message said. It was a private ceremony, but the co-regency arrangement surprised me.”
“What co-regency?”
“He named Creslin and Megaera co-regents of Recluce.”
“He’s a stubborn bastard, but not that devious.” The Marshall marks the ledger page before closing the book. “Megaera, with those bracelets off, isn’t about to submit to any man. At least that’s what Ryessa indicated. But she never said why she felt Megaera was safe to unbind.”
“Do you trust the Tyrant?” asks Llyse tentatively.
“No. But that kind of lie wouldn’t benefit her. I suspect that somehow she linked her sister to Creslin, used some sort of magic tie. That forces the sub-tyrant to follow and preserve . . . Creslin.” She shakes her head. “Creslin’s gotten help from somewhere, probably from the eastern Blacks. But the co-regency thing—that has to be Creslin’s doing. I only hope he knows the stakes he’s playing for.”
Llyse says nothing but waits. Outside the Black Tower windows, the winds howl and the snows fall.
The Marshall raises her eyebrows. “You have questions?”
“Creslin was never meant to go to Sarronnyn.”
Dylyss turns and looks out through the frosted glass.
“Was he?” asks the Marshalle.
“No.”
“I thought not. He was taught everything I was, but he was never told that, was he?”
The Marshall continues to regard the falling snow outside the Black Tower.
Llyse finally drops her eyes, bows, and leaves the room.
LXIII
CRESLIN IGNORES THE sniggers from the helmsman as he weaves his way aft. The passageway is dark, but even in his weakened condition, his senses guide him to the cabin doorway, where he fumbles before entering an even darker space. Megaera is breathing rhythmically in the lower bunk.
“Creslin?” Her voice is thick.
“Yes,” he rasps.
“Go to sleep. Let your mind take care of your body. Good night . . .”
Creslin struggles out of his sword harness, then slumps into one of the chairs and pulls off his boots. He stands and shrugs off his tunic, shirt, and trousers. He folds them and lays them in the chair, then makes his way slowly to his bunk. Megaera has turned back the coverlet.
“Thank you,” he mumbles.
“Easier that way. Go to sleep.”
He puts one leg up and tries to lever himself over the high edge.
“Please. I’m not a ladder.”
“Sorry.”
Despite the faint mustiness of the cabin, the high-sided bunk is welcome. Creslin does not recall falling asleep, but when he opens his eyes, light is streaming through the portholes. Megaera still sleeps, her breathing regular.
Creslin sits up. Clunk. Rubbing his head, he reflects that the clearance is not much greater than that of a road-crew bunk, although the accoutrements at hand are far better. Easing himself to the deck, he avoids touching or waking the sleeping redhead.
Just as quietly, he begins to dress.
“You do have a nice body, I must admit.”
Creslin blushes, pulls on his trousers, and sits down to retrieve his boots. “I tried not to wake you up.”
Clunk. Creslin grins.
Megaera rubs her head with one hand while the other clutches the quilted coverlet over her shoulders. “It’s not funny. That hurt.”
“I know. I did