The Death of Chaos (36 page)

   “I need another problem. I really do.”

   “One of Kasee's more reliable sources says that the Hamorian envoy has made several visits to Sammel.” Krystal struggled out of her leathers.

   “That's interesting.” What was I supposed to do about that? If Krystal wanted some help in Ruzor... that was one thing, but wandering all over Candar wasn't going to finish desks and chests or bring in the coins to keep things going. And what could I do with Sammel, anyway? Try and stop him from providing information and scrolls? With Hamor in Freetown, it was somewhat late to worry about the past spread of once-hidden knowledge.

   “I hoped you wouldn't be that interested.” She pulled on an old soft shirt and turned back the new quilt.

   “It is interesting,” I admitted. “But I don't see what I can do. So far as we can tell, even if there is a lot of chaos around Sammel, nothing else is happening, and any white wizard is going to gather chaos.”

   “A lot of the devices seem to have been his idea.” Krystal stretched out on the bed.

   “What can I do? Everyone seems to have already used the ideas. I can't make them disappear.”

   “I don't know. I don't know.” She sighed. “I do know that nothing I can do will be enough to save Kyphros once Hamor really brings in troops and those new rifles. Kasee knows that, too. I just hoped you might have some ideas.” She added. “Just ideas. Just ideas.”

   Ideas? I had lots of ideas, but most of them dealt with making desks and chests-or getting Wegel to finish his own spaces. Sammel wasn't raising an army, and for the first time in seasons, no one was directly attacking or threatening Kyphros.

   “Can Kasee get some rifles?”

   “Right now, to outfit just the Finest would cost more than the Treasury. They'd all have to be smuggled in. Mureas is looking into it, though.”

   “Oh...” I sat there for a moment. Then I snuffed the lamp and pulled the quilt around me, before leaning across the bed and kissing Krystal's cheek. She seemed so exhausted.

   “Hold me. Just hold me.”

   My consort? My competent consort who carried powder across Kyphros on her mount and risked being blown skyward at any moment? The woman who had survived double-crosses and rigged duels? I just held her.

   After a time, she shivered once, and wrapped her arms around me. “Sometimes, Lerris, I don't say what I feel. I see you here, and you're so solid, like the very darkness itself. You deal with everything from chaos to chickens, and you care for people like Wegel and Rissa.” She shivered again. “All you ask-but you don't ask, you hope-is that I love you. I do love you. Sometimes, though, sometimes, I get afraid.”

   I held her without asking why.

   “I worry that you don't understand how everything can change in a moment. We never think. Ferrel had a daughter. Eldra's just joined the Finest. I never knew Ferrel had a daughter. One day Ferrel rode out, and she never rode back. We don't have children, and I hope we can. But I can't now, not right now. Kasee needs me, and we don't have anyplace else to call home.”

   “Things are getting better, now, with the crafting.” Still, I had to wonder. Would I have gotten the commission from Zeiber if Krystal hadn't been the commander? Preltar was another question. I doubt he even knew Krystal and I were consorts. Antona? I really didn't know. But just as things seemed to be looking up, here came the invasion of Freetown by Hamor- didn't anything ever settle down?

   “And as soon as they do,” Krystal said, with another shiver, “something like this mess with Hamor happens. Won't it ever end?”

   I didn't have any answers, not any that I wanted to voice. So I kept holding her in the darkness and tried not to think about Hamor and Sammel. Or the cost of smuggled rifles. Or the need to make powder. Or the chaos building below Candar.

THE COUNTESS OF Montgren-a white-haired, lean, and tanned woman in spotless light blue leathers-waited by the edge of the corral filled with sheep. Beside her stood two guards, carrying rifles and wearing short blades.

   Justen brushed back short hair that bore more than mere traces of silver. Tamra took a deep breath, trying not to sag against the fence rails, then brushed away a large fly that circled back toward her again.

   Baa... baaa... bdahhh...

   Behind the two mages, the sheep continued to mill in the corral, and the odors of raw wool, dust, and dung accompanied the noise.

   The redheaded mage sneezed and wiped her nose, then wiped it again.

   “Is it almost as bad as three years ago?” asked the Countess Merella of Montgren.

   Justen blotted his forehead. “Worse, I think. Or I'm older and more tired.”

   Tamra took another deep breath, letting her senses flick across the animals in the corral, feeling the scattered white chaos.

   “What happened to your last apprentice?” asked the Countess.

   “He's done fine... if you consider destroying three white wizards and nearly getting killed twice a form of success. He's a woodcrafter in Kyphros most of the time.” The gray wizard looked at the Countess, then around the area. The bodyguards stood well back from the three. “What are you going to do about Hamor?”

   “What can I do?” The Countess shrugged. “My guard is less than twentyscore, and I could raise perhaps a thousand in levies, as the Hamorian envoy has been so kind as to point out.”

   She smiled bitterly. “My daughter and son both died, not long after Herril, and I have no direct heirs. That makes it easy. My nephew is not pleased, but he understands.”

   “You name the throne of Hamor as your heir, and you administer Montgren for the Emperor?” asked Justen.

   “You have a better answer, Mage?”

   Justen shook his head slowly.

   “That way, my people don't suffer again the way they did when mad Korweil defied Frven. The hilltop where his keep sat still won't grow more than thistles and grass.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment. “As for wizardry... I have no desire for Vergren to look like Frven or the deadlands-assuming I could find a willing wizard.”

   Tamra's eyes grew hard, but she said nothing, even after the Countess turned to her.

   “There's an obligation to ruling, Magistra, just like there is an obligation to magic.” Merella nodded curtly, and turned to Justen. “Tomorrow... the pens outside Vergren?”

   Justen nodded.

   After the Countess and her guards had left, Tamra asked, “What was that business about mad Korweil?”

   “Korweil was the Duke who gave Creslin and Megaera sanctuary-you know, the Founders of Recluce. He thought he could hold off the wizards. They burned most of the meadows, killed most of the flocks, and leveled his keep.”

   “Could Hamor do that?”

   “There's not much difference between a firebolt and a good cannon-not now, except that all those ships and cannon create free chaos through the Balance, a great deal more than I-or Recluce-ever anticipated.”

   “Can't you use order to control it?”

   “Absolutely.” Justen offered a hard smile before asking, “Do you want to be the one who tries to channel it? That's what Lerris did, you know.”

   “Oh... Will he try it again?”

   “Given Lerris, probably. But I don't really want to be anywhere near when he does.”

   “Will we have a choice?” Tamra persisted.

   Justen lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “We've got a lot more sheep waiting. You can start.”

KRYSTAL HAD BEEN in Ruzor for more than an eight-day when Durrik the spice merchant rode up one morning, early enough that Wegel was still attending to his chores, and I had barely gotten into the shop after practicing with the staff in the stable. I was getting better at hitting the moving bag more times in a row. With a soft cloth I was dusting away a thin coat of the red dust that had begun to drift into the shop with the warmer weather when I heard hoofs and went out into the yard. Outside the shop, the sky was clear and bright, and the first blades of grass were peering from the fields and around the yard.

   After Durrik reined up and dismounted, I escorted him into the shop where his chest was taking shape, alongside Antona's desk, and Preltar's daughter's dowry chest. It was amazing how much work I was able to get done when someone else did the chores and when I wasn't riding all over Candar.

   “There's your chest.” I gestured at the light oak chest, almost completed except for the finishing. It was farther along than any of the others.

   “It's... striking...” Durrik's fingers brushed the wood, and I could tell he was pleased. He walked around it and looked, finally turning to me. “It's better than I paid for.”

   He was right, but young crafters are usually underpaid, just as some older ones are often overpaid.

   Then Durrik looked at Wegel, who was racking the broom. “Young fellow, if you can learn half of what your master has already learned, you'll never have to starve anywhere.”

   Wegel gave Durrik a slow smile. “Y-y-yes, s-ss-ser...”

   Durrik's fingers brushed the wood on the side of the chest again. “I wish I could offer you more, but times are hard, and getting harder.” The spice trader wiped his forehead, although the shop wasn't that hot-not yet.

   “The Hamorian traders?” I asked.

   “That... and spice prices. The ones that come by sea- they're hard to get, and the prices keep going up. If I don't charge what they cost me, I lose coins. If I do, only the wealthy can buy. Even some spices from Sarronnyn are getting dear.”

   “From Sarronnyn?” I'd opened the mountain roads three years earlier. Why were Sarronnese spices getting dearer?

   “They've got the same problem I do. You can't make coins on high-priced imported spices, and so you up the price where you can. I'm selling tresselwood needles at twice what I was a year ago. I don't like it, but what can I do?”

   All that because Hamor controlled perhaps five ports? Except the ports weren't the problem, but the shipping.

   “It's going to get worse. The Hamorian fleet is intercepting ships headed to Recluce.”

   “They can't get every one,” I offered.

   “They don't have to. Who wants to take that kind of risk when the Hamorians pay fairly well?”

   “I'm surprised Recluce has not done something.” And I was. Recluce needed trade. Why hadn't the Brotherhood struck back?

   “They may yet,” Durrik said with a half-shrug. “If they don't...”

   I understood the shrug. If Recluce didn't do something fairly soon, whatever the Brotherhood did would probably be too late, although I wasn't quite sure what they could do-or if I wanted to know.

   “I was glad to see the chest, but that wasn't why I came.” Durrik handed me a flat envelope with a black wax seal. “This is a letter from your family, and I said I'd get it to you.”

   “What do I owe you?”

   “Nothing. It's always paid on the other end.” Durrik grinned. “Even if it weren't, I couldn't take anything after looking at the chest.”

   He clapped me on the shoulder. “Best I be going. You want to send a letter back-I'll find a way to get it there. Might be roundabout, but I can do it.”

   “Thank you. I'll let you know.”

   After the spice merchant left, I walked out into the yard and halfway up the hill-just to be alone when I opened the letter. I wasn't totally alone, though. A big horsefly kept circling around, an omen of what might be a long and hot summer.

   I swatted at the horsefly, but it kept circling. So I had to set a low-level ward before it buzzed off to bother someone else. The black wax of the seal cracked evenly, and I opened the envelope and began to read.

Dear Lerris,

   Your letter was most welcome, and your father and I were glad to hear that you are well and prospering. I told Sardit and Elisabet about your work as a crafter, but Sardit just smiled. Apparently, your name is somewhat known in the woodcrafting circles already. That may be why he has always insisted you were fine. He said to tell you that Perlot was both relieved and sad that you had left Fenard.

   Corso and Koldar also send their best. She had a daughter last fall, and named her Betina. Your aunt Elisabet was amused and pleased, I think.

   Your father says that these are troubling times, and that Recluce may be caught between the chaos of Candar and the forced order of Hamor...

   I shook my head. The chaos of Candar had been and continued to be a creation of Recluce. For my father to deny that was... I didn't even quite have the words for it.

... neither of which will be good for the Balance. He said to tell you that the Balance works both ways, and that it does not matter whether order or chaos comes first- there will be a balance...

   I frowned at that. My father, even as relayed by my mother's hand, was sounding suspiciously like Justen. Then why shouldn't he? They were brothers.

... when the time comes, you may need to come to Recluce, but that must be your choice...

   Of course it would be my choice. Who else's would it be?

   The trees bore well last year, even the sourpears...

   When I thought about it, I hadn't seen either sourpears or chrysnets in Candar. Were they something that the old order-masters had created for Recluce, back before the great change?

   The rest of the letter dealt with more routine news, and I read through it quickly before I folded the letter back into the envelope and walked back to the shop, where I tucked it into the box with my other papers, wondering why my father's secondhand words had upset me.

   “Wegel... let's look at that cedar. We'll start with the inside frame sections on this dowry chest...”

   He only scratched one section by trying to smooth it too quickly, something I'd done more than once for Uncle Sardit.

   Just after I clamped the corners on one inside frame, the creaking of the wagon, and Rissa's words to the mare came through the open window beside the door.

   “Now, you be stopping right where you are, you old woman...”

   Long before she could have stabled the old mare, she marched into the shop.

   “No chickens, Master Lerris?” She lifted the basket of eggs. “Eggs is all I can get from Brene, now. No chickens. If we had our own, it'd be a different story. Even at a silver a chicken she won't sell, maybe three for a gold, but I wasn't about to be buying chickens for golds. Not me. Not without talking to you.”

   “Three chickens for a gold?”

   “Everything's like that. People are getting a-feared of the Emperor.”

   I didn't understand at all. It would take well over a year for the Hamorian forces to reach Kyphros, even if Kasee had already dropped dead. Who knew what would happen in a year?

   “That's madness. There aren't any Hamorians within six hundred kays.”

   “That might be so, Master Lerris, but folks are scared, and scared folks think with their hearts and not their heads. Sometimes they think with their feet, too. Like Brene. Old Brene's talking about selling her chickens and going out to visit Tyglit-”

   “Tyglit?”

   “That'll be her oldest. Tyglit lives out in the trade village near Upper River, toward the Westhorns. That be one of those places where the grasslands people trade come winter. Anyway, Tyglit lives out there, and not even the Hamorians like those grasslands.” She lifted the basket. “Makes no matter. She goes, and we got no eggs, either.”

   I surrendered.

   “How many chickens can you buy?”

   “If I bought a couple of hens and a young cock, Brene might let'em all go for a gold.”

   “Fine. I'll get you the coins. Just keep them out of the shop.”

   “You be asking me to head right back out to Brene's, after I just been there?”

   “You've been asking me about chickens for nearly a year, and now you practically tell me we're in danger of going hungry if we don't get chickens...”

   “Master Lerris... some days, I never be understanding you.”

   I went into the bedroom and dragged out my purse. There was enough there without going into the strongbox hidden behind the storeroom wall off the shop.

   “Here is a gold and three silvers. Try not to use the silvers.”

   “I'll be a-trying everything.”

   I didn't watch her drive back out the southwestern road, but went back to mixing the finish for Durrik's chest.

   Wegel set down his knife.

   “Let's see what you wrote on the cherry, Wegel.”

   He brought over his box, and I flipped through the cards. “Cherry... hmmm... why didn't you write anything about how brittle it is?”

   “Br-br-brittle... ?”

   I looked at him. “Get me a scrap of cherry-a little one.”

   He looked down at the floor, which needed sweeping, and then trudged over to the scrap box.

   “Take your knife. Try to cut it. No, not at an angle; just saw it...”

   He looked horrified, as well he might. I was asking him to break a blade.

   “Don't you see? You have to work the grain. It's too hard...” Finally, I could see he understood. “Now, that's what I want you to put on the card.” I handed him his box back.

   At that point, I let Wegel go out to the stable and work on putting up the wall boards. The floor was in, although it needed smoothing, and so was the door to the yard. Later, Wegel could put in a window, but I'd have to buy the glass, and he'd have to make his own bed.

   Still, he whistled at times when he worked, and he always watched closely when I asked him to.

   I went back to work on Preltar's chest-until Rissa returned. I still needed to do more on Zeiber's case, but that would have to wait.

   “Master Lerris...” said Rissa.

   Braaaawkkk... awwkkkk... aaawwwk...

   “You got the chickens, I hear.”

   “Seeing as you had the extra silver, I got four hens and a scrawny young cock-just for a gold and a silver.”

   She handed me back the extra silvers, but I let her keep one, and I tried to ignore the squawking and clucking.

   “Master Lerris, we'll need a coop or a henhouse for them. I can put them in the stable now, but won't be long 'fore the cats and-”

   “I understand, Rissa.” Of course, no one had mentioned a coop, but I should have figured that out as well.

   That night, after having to stop work on the dowry chest to help Wegel with the corner framing that he hadn't done right, after drawing a rough plan for the henhouse, after listening to Rissa's praise of chickens, and the distant braaawkk... brawk from the stable, and finally eating something that was hotter than burkha and heavier than leaden oak, I washed up in cold water and sat on the bench on the porch for a while, looking at the stars above the horizon and wondering.

   Life wasn't supposed to be quite this way. I was older, but I didn't have as many coins, not really, as when I'd been a journeyman for Destrin. I'd found someone I loved, but it seemed like I saw her less and less. I was becoming known as a crafter, and yet I had to bargain more and more, rather than less and less.

   Since I was tired, and my leg still ached when I was tired, I stood up and headed inside to the empty bedroom, where I undressed slowly.

   With another deep breath, I turned back the quilt and climbed into bed, looking toward the other side, the empty other side. Krystal was still in Ruzor, and probably would be for a time, maybe a long time. So was Kasee, and so were most of the Finest, trying to ready the city against the Hamorians.

   I took another deep breath, trying to ignore, for the moment, the distant order-chaos rumbling.

   Grrrurrrr... grurrrrr...

   Deep in the night, deep beneath Candar, chaos and order warred, and I tossed in an empty bed.