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 facade 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
Learning to Kill: Stories