The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [161]
Creslin winces, not at the words, but at the feelings beneath them. He continues to stand, although he does not step toward the doorway.
“Especially since they wouldn’t be in this mess—”
Creslin focuses on Hyel, and the thin officer breaks off his statement. “You are right,” Creslin agrees. They wouldn’t be in this mess now. It would have happened a year from now, and they’d all be dead for certain.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Hyel retorts.
Creslin turns and leaves the room, his ears ringing. His steps are quick as he takes the steps down to the main floor of the keep two at a time. Trying to ignore the sadness and anger that Megaera feels, he mounts the mare and urges her toward the high fields and the spring he will—must—find.
“Damned fools. As if there were ever easy answers . . .” But his guts twist as he rides.
CVIII
“THE SECOND TAX notice went as scheduled, and we have the pay chest.” Gyretis smiles happily. “It’s nice when you can even make a profit on an operation.”
“Don’t be so quick to rejoice,” warns the High Wizard. “What if Creslin or Megaera find out?”
“How? They can’t return. They’re bound to blame Korweil, and Korweil will resent them—”
“That’s one possibility.”
“What are you going to do if Creslin changes the weather?”
“When he changes the weather?”
“You think he will?”
“He has to, and someone is far-sensing on all the high winds. I’d guess it won’t be long.”
“Then what?”
The High Wizard spreads his hands, looking at the blank mirror on the table, then out the tower window. “We see how the disruption can be used. I have some ideas. It has already been a dry summer, and if the rains go to Recluce . . .”
“Then what?”
“We’ll see. We’ll see.” Hartor fingers the chain and amulet he wears around his neck.
CIX
CRESLIN CHEWS THE fish methodically, grateful for the sauce with which Aldonya has basted the dark meat. Fish is still fish. A deep pull of warm water follows. He looks at the unnamed roots lying on his plate beside a heap of fish bones, then across the battered wooden table at Megaera.
Aldonya, sitting in a chair at the foot of the table and feeding Lynnya, also looks up.
Megaera meets Creslin’s eyes, but shrugs.
“What are they?” he asks.
“Quilla roots,” answers Aldonya. “You should try them.”
“Quilla roots?”
“I dug them myself. They come from the prickly long-leaved cactus. One of the fisherwomen told me about them. They’re almost like yams.”
Creslin looks at the pale green cylinders on his plate, then at Megaera, who has not touched hers either.
“Shush, you two. You would attack the world, and you hesitate at a mere root?” Aldonya rocks the red-haired infant, who, wide-eyed, stares at her mother. “Little Lynnya, would you believe it of these two brave warriors? If you grow up to be a magician or a warrior, will you spurn good food because it’s different?”
Creslin winces, then cannot help grinning. After another swallow of water, he uses his knife to cut a small portion of the quilla, which he pops into his mouth. He forces himself to bite into the crunchy green. “Ummm . . . that’s not too bad.”
“You see, Lynnya? Your mother knows what she is doing . . .”
Megaera hastily follows Creslin’s example.
“Aren’t there a lot of these in the high valley down the road?” Creslin asks.
“I would think so.” Aldonya shifts Lynnya from one breast to the other.
Creslin shakes his head. “We should have asked the local fishing people. What else did we miss?”
Megaera continues crunching the quilla root, finally swallowing. “It’s chewy.”
“Tomorrow we’re having a new kind of seaweed,” announces Aldonya.
“Then, again . . .” mumbles Creslin.
“It’s really not bad, best-beloved.”
“The seaweed is good. I tried it,” adds Aldonya.
Seaweed, and cactus roots? Creslin takes another bite of the quilla, chewing thoroughly.
CX
CRESLIN WIPES HIS sweating forehead and stretches out on the pallet, wondering how long his efforts will take.
“You’re still going to do it, aren’t you?” . . . beloved idiot. . . Megaera stands in the doorway.
He sits up. “I didn’t expect