Read Online The Towers Of the Sunset by L.E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page B

slender spruce?
    Slide, lift, slide…
    Frummmmppp…
    “Enough… is… enough.”
    Creslin sits upon the snow, untwining the leather thongs, knowing that he cannot get back on the skis.
    Twenty cubits downhill, through nearly waist-deep snow and the falling white curtain, he finds a fallen trunk. It will have to do.
    In time, with frozen needles, the crushed branches beneath the trunk, and the striker in his belt pouch, he manages a small fire to warm himself as he prepares another hollow, one which, when lined with small branches and ample needles, may prove warmer than the last. He forces himself to eat and drink, and then not to sleep immediately, but to carve small branches with the knife and feed the small fire that helps warm him against wind and snow.
    The snow hides the shadows; the flakes fall so furiously that no traces of a trail can survive.
    Creslin wonders, not for the first time, whether he will either.

XV
    “THERE IS STILL no word from either the road posts or our sources at Westwind. The Marshall refuses to declare mourning, but half the guards are wearing black on their sleeves when they’re not around her.”
    “It is as though he vanished. How could she have let that happen? She doesn’t even realize what he is.” Frewya looks perplexed.
    “Do you know that for a fact?” asks Ryessa.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Westwind must always be held by the daughter. That does not mean she does not love her son. Or that she is blind to what he is.” The Tyrant frowns. “There was a rumor that Dylyss also had the talent.”
    “That would be horrifying, if true.”
    “Why? She’s bound not to use it. Besides, that’s not the issue, although it would explain-”
    “Why did she let him ski into the winter storms?”
    “Frewya, the boy was allowed to train with the guards, at least until I inquired. He could out-ski most of them. Our sources indicate that when he was refused permission to work out with them, he copied their workouts on his own. He was taught blade-work, or so we were told, in order to protect his honor and to deflect any criticism by the easterners. You saw what he did with a blade here. Yet after that, the Marshall had him taught more by the guard arms-master. I’m sure that the rationale was that after the episode here, he needed even greater skill. How convenient. He was also taught the traditional skills of numbers and rhetoric, and the old Temple tongue.” She smiles a smile that is colder than most women’s frowns. “And he does have some mastery of the winds, or so Megaera has assured me.”
    “But the guard source insisted he was not up to guard standards with blades. That is what you told me.”
    The older woman shrugs. “That may be true. How many men, even easterners, are up to guard standards?” Her face turns colder. “But I suspect he is better than most Westwind guards, given his parenting. Dylyss tends to omit the important details.”
    “You’re saying that she had him taught enough to survive on his own?”
    “Only if he wishes-she could not teach desire. He is bound to be naive about the ways of the world. Experience cannot be taught. She saw more than she was supposed to here, but even then, she refused to make it easy for him. She makes it easy for no one.” Ryessa pauses. “Still, our turn will come.”
    “Insist that she find him!”
    “How?” asked the Tyrant dryly. “How would we force the Marshall? With our might of arms?”
    “What if he died on the mountain? Or what if he makes it across the Westhorns? Or even the Easthorns?”
    “I don’t think he died. After all, Megaera is still alive. I’m tempted to take her to Bleyans and strike the bracelets. She has to find him, you know, like the Furies. As for the easterners-if he makes it that far, and if Megaera finds him, in time they will regret it.”
    “You aren’t planning to take on the magicians?”
    “Why should I? Let us see what he can do, especially once Megaera is after