The Death of Chaos (29 page)

   “Oh... you think Hamor is planting the idea that rulers should be able to protect their trade anywhere?”

   Her mouth full again, Krystal nodded.

   “So... next the autarch will hear from the handful of copper miners? Or will it be the vintners in the south?”

   “The vintners were in to see the autarch last eight-day,” Perron said dryly.

   I glanced at Krystal. She nodded.

   I decided to eat, and reached for the bread.

   After dinner, I followed Krystal into the bedroom, lit the lamp with my striker, and watched as the light fell over the carving of the ancient angel.

   “Lerris... where? It's beautiful...”

   “It's not ours, but I'm keeping it for Wegel.”

   “Wegel?”

   “He gave it to me because I wanted him for an apprentice. It's too good for me to take.”

   Krystal looked at me, and moisture seeped from the comers of her eyes. “I love you, you know.”

   “Why?”

   “Just because. Because you see, and because you care.” Then she hugged me, and I held her for a time. Finally, she stepped away.

   “I need to get out of this uniform.” Even as she spoke, Krystal sat down, pulled off her boots, and tossed them into the corner. Then she stripped off her uniform, and, in rather efficient motions, pulled a robe around her before she plopped herself on the bed, propped up against the headboard.

   I was still standing there in my trousers.

 
 “Anything else new today?” I managed to ask.

   “Not much. Berfir and Colaris are still at it, but there's something happening in Certis.”

   “How did you find out?”

   “Kasee got a travel-scroll-unsigned, but probably from Justen.”

   “Justen?” I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off my boots. The thigh still hurt. When was I ever going to learn?

   “He and Tamra are on their way to Montgren. The scroll said that the Viscount is making something disturbing, and to watch the borders.”

   “So very helpful,” I grumbled. “Just like Justen.”

   Krystal raised an eyebrow. Lying there on the bed, she looked so desirable, yet distant, warm yet cool, competent yet vulnerable.

   I stopped talking and looked. Then I did more than look. I eased up beside her and kissed her.

   Her lips were warm for a moment before she eased away and asked me, “Have you noticed that Justen disappears whenever things seem to get dangerous?”

   “I don't think it's fear.”

   Krystal pursed her lips, and I brushed them with mine.

   “You are impossible.” She smiled and kissed me back, just kissed me for a time. Then she reached over and twisted down the lamp wick.

   “You're the impossible one, woman.”

   “What I want is very possible.”

   I didn't argue.

SMOKE DRIFTED ACROSS the small valley, smoke heavy with the odor of brimstone and nitre, and the rattling sounds of rifle discharges echoed back up along the hillside trail where the two riders paused.

   Justen surveyed the smoke-shrouded land. On the eastern hillside controlling the road from Montgren into Certis, cyan banners flew from staffs planted in the earthen barriers before the trenchworks. On the trampled grass of the hillside, once a meadow for sheep, lay dark figures in green or with green sashes.

   “The Viscount's troops are getting slaughtered. The idiots,” said Tamra.

   “For getting slaughtered? I doubt they had much choice,” reflected Justen.

   “They could have just let Colaris's troops head into Hydlen.”

   “Pride often triumphs over rationality,” said Justen dryly.

   As they watched, the green banners waved, and another wave of pikes struggled up the hillside. The rattling fire of the rifles increased, and pikes and troopers fell in uneven rows across the bloody grass. Then all but one green banner dropped. The pike line broke, and more figures lay sprawled across the slope.

   “Pride,” snorted Tamra. “They're not even trying to use wizardry against the rifles. They could try.”

   “Those cartridges are made of steel, and no one except a strong chaos wizard could ignite them, and no strong wizard would choose to work for the Viscount.”

   “You think that Colaris will take over Certis and Hydlen?”

   “He has an advantage now.” Justen shook his head. “Before long, they'll all be using rifles with cartridges-if Hamor will supply them.”

   “If not?”

   “The Emperor may send his own troops, and this will seem like a pleasant excursion by comparison.”

   “Are you sure?” Tamra snorted. “Won't they all huddle behind trenchworks, and nothing will happen?”

   “Hardly. The way things are going, we'll probably see big cannon hauled in.” He lifted the reins, and Rosefoot carried him westward. “And things will get even worse. They usually do, I've found.”

   After a frown and then a long glance back at the smoke-covered valley, Tamra urged her mount to follow Justen. She frowned, and a slight breeze swirled around her, providing a momentary respite.

KRYSTAL, AND HER guards, left early the morning of my audience with the autarch and the envoy from Hamor, an audience scheduled for just before noon, and one to which I was not looking forward.

   After brushing and feeding Gairloch, I went out to the shop and surveyed the layout. If Wegel were to have space to work, I needed to rearrange some of the benches-and the wood I had picked up from Faslik for Antona's desk and Durrik's chest. It took a while to move everything around. In moving things, I discovered some chisels that needed sharpening, not to mention some wood that I'd tucked behind one of the benches. So when I had things the way I wanted them, it was time to get ready for the audience, and I'd gotten no real crafting done at all.

   I washed up and shaved. Shaving scraped my skin, but not shaving made my face itch, especially in the summer and if I worked near the hearth.

   When I walked into the kitchen, Rissa looked up. “You look good. Young for a wizard, but wizards can look any way they please... so that is all right.”

   “I'm glad you approve of the way I look, since I don't know of any real way to change it, except by growing a beard, and I hate beards.”

   “It would make you look older and more distinguished.”

   “No beards.” I broke off a corner of not-quite-stale bread and began to chew. Who knew when I'd get to eat once I got to the autarch's palace? Matters of state usually took precedence over food.

   “Do not get crumbs all over your new grays.”

   “They'll brush off.”

   “Master Lerris...”

   I finished the bread and brushed off the crumbs, then made my way out to the stable to saddle Gairloch.

   Whufff...ufff...ufff...

   “Yes, we're actually going somewhere. Not far, but somewhere.”

   The sun was trying to break through the hazy overcast when I climbed on Gairloch, wearing the grays under my brown cloak. I still didn't have a gray cloak, but the envoy wasn't about to see my cloak. I had gotten Rissa to sew up the leg that had been buttoned together so that I didn't feel like quite so much of an invalid.

   While the day held a hint of nip, I could almost sense spring building under the brown ground. I was more than ready for it, more than a little tired of the cold rains and ice, although the deep snowfalls had been few indeed, mostly during the time I had been recovering from my encounter with Gerlis.

   I stayed away from the market square, going down the artisans' street instead, wishing, in a way, that I could afford the jewelry I glimpsed between the bars of the goldsmith's window. Krystal couldn't wear it in uniform, but I would have liked to have been able to give her something that wasn't a necessity.

   Shaking my head, I rode on to the autarch's palace, still concerned about jewelry I didn't even know she wanted or would wear.

   Haithen was mounted and waiting outside the gates. “You have a stall in the Finest's stables.”

   “Since when?”

   “Since we all decided that it was stupid for you to stable Gairloch with the mounts of all those clerks and functionaries. You're more of a fighter than a courtier.” She grinned at me. “I knew that from the beginning. It took longer for the others to find out.”

   I followed her to the rear stables, a slightly longer walk back to Krystal's quarters, but at least I wouldn't have to deal with the uppity ostler in the front stables.

   “Should have done this a long time ago,” said the bull-necked woman who ran the guard stables. “No sissy wizard here.”

   Compared to her, I felt rather slight in build, but I nodded. “I do appreciate it. Gairloch would be more at home here. So am I.”

   “Thought so.”

   Haithen remounted and saluted before riding somewhere, and I crossed the well-swept stones of the yard between the stables and the main barracks.

   Several guards nodded to me. Some, like Jinsa, I knew. Others I didn't. Weldein glanced at me as I passed him in the corridor, his collar showing the silver pin of a squad leader. “You're not quite so stiff, Master Lerris.”

   “Next time, I'll let you lead the charge. Or maybe I'll make you Tamra's permanent sparring partner.”

   He did grin, after a fleeting expression of surprise, and I nodded and continued on to Krystal's door, where Herreld stood squarely. Some things hadn't changed, but, in a way, I was glad that he protected her access so carefully.

   “Is she ready for me, Herreld?”

   “I will check, Order-master.”

   “Thank you, Herreld.”

   He reappeared instantly. “She asked if you would wait just a few moments. She is meeting with Kyldesee and Finance Minister Mureas.”

   “Under the circumstances, it's better we both stay out here.”

   Herreld actually gave me a faint smile.

   Shortly, the blocky Mureas emerged, her square-cut white hair glued in place, followed by a younger woman, also with square-cut hair-brown-wearing the greens of the Finest.

   I nodded politely. “Good day, Minister Mureas.”

   I got a curt nod in return from the minister, and the two were gone.

   Herreld gave the faintest of headshakes, and Krystal motioned me into her office/palace quarters.

   Only when the door was shut did she shake her head. “I hate that...”

   “Mureas leaning on you?” I kissed her cheek.

   “She was expressing her concern that the Finest were not employing Kyldesee's talents to the degree possible.” Krystal grimaced. “Kyldesee can handle a blade fairly well; she's a decent squad leader; and a first-class light-finger. Yelena still hasn't figured out where all the coins went while Kyldesee was in charge of the Ruzor district.”

   Krystal's table was heaped high with scrolls, and so was the bed in her sleeping quarters. One lamp mantle was sooty, the sign of oil having burned down too many times without the reservoir being cleaned.

   “You couldn't tell Mureas that, I take it.”

   “Light-demons, no! We can't even prove Kyldesee was the one who did it. But if Mureas weren't her aunt, I wouldn't have to.”

   “Mureas is important, of course.”

   “She is if we have to fight the war I think we're going to have to fight.”

   “War? Which war? Berfir? The Viscount? Hamor?”

   “I think they're all parts of the same war. Light! Recluce has made a mess out of Candar. And we're the only ones who seem to see it or care.” She straightened her gold-braided vest. “Kasee wants to talk to us, mostly you, before the audience with the envoy from Hamor.”

   “Me?”

   “As I keep pointing out, you're the only gray wizard she has left. And the only one she really trusts.” She bent forward and gave me a kiss. “We need to go.”

   “She doesn't trust Justen?”

   “She doesn't distrust him... but you do live here, and you don't have this habit of vanishing. Even if you do have a hidden hero desire.”

   “I don't like being a hero. It's dangerous.”

   She raised her eyebrows as she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. “Herreld... it will be some time before I'm likely to return from the autarch's audience. If someone has a real problem, tell them to see Weldein. If he can't handle it, he can find someone who can.”

   “Weldein. Yes, Commander.”

   Krystal was moving before Herreld finished acknowledging her instructions, long legs carrying her down the dark-walled corridor toward the narrow stairs. I followed, almost running for a moment to catch up, and trying not to limp at the same time.

   Two more sets of guards snapped rigid as we passed before we entered the wide-windowed and tapestried hall outside the autarch's study.

   The taller guard of the third pair of guards opened the door into the study, and closed it just as quickly once we were inside.

   “Greetings. We only have a little time before I must array myself for our honored guest.” Kasee set the pen in the holder and leaned forward across the overbalanced desk. Someday, when I felt truly brave, I was going to suggest she pay me to craft a decent replacement. So far, that day hadn't come, and since she had ordered and paid for the wardrobe, I wasn't about to hurry it.

   As usual when in private, the autarch's black and silver hair was disarrayed, and the left side of her forehead was smudged with either ink or charcoal. I suspected her maids, valets, or whoever helped her dress for functions did a lot of despairing.

   “I asked you to come, Lerris, because you've had the closest contact with what happened in Hydlen, and because”-she shrugged-“somehow I felt that you could help. Also, we don't know much about this envoy. The rumors are that he is an exile from Recluce, and that might be true, because he's not the envoy that the Emperor just sent there.”

   “Isn't it strange to send two envoys a quarter of the way around the globe?” asked Krystal.

   “Candar's a big place,” pointed out Kasee.

   Perhaps, but it seemed to me that it was getting very crowded very quickly.

   “Then there's the mess in Freetown...” added Krystal.

   “I thought Berfir and his rockets would roll over Colaris,” admitted Kasee, “especially once he could divert troops from the south. And he might have, but some long-range cannons have appeared, and a thing that carries an observation basket into the air to guide the cannon fire.” She picked up the pen and chewed on the end.

   “It sounds like a balloon of some sort, like in the old books.” I watched as a drop of ink landed on the blotter, amazed that it hadn't hit her green silks.

   “Lately, Colaris's troops have been using rifles,” the autarch added.

   “Rifles-but can't some third-rate wizard ignite the powder?”

   “They're using steel cartridges. They're hard on the barrels, but it would take a first-rate wizard to set them off, and since each one is separately packed...”

   I got the picture. It was like combining miniature rockets with cannon, and it's difficult to use a sword on troops who can kill you before you can reach them. “What about archers?”

   “A good archer's probably as good as a soldier with a rifle, maybe a better shot, but it takes longer, a lot longer, to train an archer,” Krystal pointed out. “Also, you can carry a lot more cartridges than arrows.”

   “Did the rifles come from Hamor?”

   “Where else? They're using steam-powered machines to make the cartridges.” Kasee looked at a scroll on the side of the desk. “That's what the traders tell me, anyway.”

   “What about the balloon?”

   “That's from the new wizard in Sligo. This Sammel's not that far from Freetown and Montgren-or even Certis. All sorts of new ideas, all very neatly set out in ink, have been coming out. A lot of gold has gone into his coffers, and we know that some of these ideas have even gone to Hamor-such as some of the improvements to the cannon. The Empire did come up with cartridges themselves.”

   Krystal looked to me. “How can this happen? Why doesn't chaos tear them apart?”

   I had to shrug. “I don't know. Maybe, if you break ordered things into small enough pieces, like the cartridges, it's harder for chaos to disrupt. Maybe good machining, like good woodwork, can hold chaos off. That ought to work in theory. But I really don't know.” I was getting the beginning of a headache. Gerlis-one white wizard working for a second-rate duke-had been bad enough, but the picture I was getting was worse. Sammel had had some training in the basis of order and chaos.

   “How does this Sammel compare to Gerlis?” asked Kasee.

   “When I met him in Recluce, I wouldn't have even guessed that he'd become involved with chaos. He looked more like a hermit, and his voice was thoughtful. He couldn't handle edged weapons, either.” I shook my head. It was still hard to believe that Sammel was tied up with chaos. “But he probably understands the basics better.”

   “Sammel seemed to be the type who really believed in what he did,” added Krystal. “If he believes in what he is doing...” She spread her hands.

   “It will be worse than the Hydlen mess, you think?” asked the autarch.

   My consort and I both nodded slowly.

   “I thought you might say that.” Kasee straightened and stood. “I need to be made presentable. Krystal, why don't you and Lerris go down to the audience room? Use the side door, and I'll meet you there.”

   After she left, Krystal led the way through the back corridors I wouldn't have even pretended to know. My night vision did keep me from stumbling as I followed the surefooted Krystal through the dim, but not dusty, passages.

   Once in the audience chamber, we sat on two stools behind a pillar.

   “Do you understand what she wants?” asked Krystal, glancing toward the dais and the empty green-upholstered chair.

   “For me to stand there and look interested, add what she wants added, and try to figure out what is really happening.”

   “Don't try to figure anything out at the audience. Just try to feel whatever you can. You can sort it out later. I think your feelings are important.”

   “All right.” I grinned and squeezed her knee. “I'm glad you do.”

   She blushed slightly. “That wasn't what I meant.”

   “Oh?”

   “Sometimes...”

   “Good!”

   At that point the door opened, sooner than I would have expected, and Kasee emerged, with hair in place and smudges removed.

   We walked to the dais, and Krystal stood to her right, slightly in front of her, while I was on the left. Kasee sat in the chair, waiting.

   The bell sounded and she straightened in the chair and looked at Krystal and then at me. “Here we go.”

   The double doors opened, and someone announced, “The Most Honorable D'ressn Leithrrse, envoy of His Imperial Highness Stesten of Hamor.”

   Leithrrse bowed once as he entered,- walked forward, and bowed again at the steps below the dais. The Hamorian envoy was lighter-skinned than most Kyphrans, and could have stepped off the Feyn River plains. If he were from Hamor he hadn't, but Hamor was home to ambitious exiles from the world over. The few Hamorians I'd seen were generally as dark as Kyphrans, but I supposed there were people of all complexions in any country.