Taelya nodded.
“Well … there aren’t any cisterns anywhere around here, and none of us want to carry water all the way from the square, do we?”
“No.” She also shook her head.
“Faastah can make a cistern out of bricks and mortar. It will have to have a well-fitted wooden top, but unless we glaze the inside of the cistern, after a short while it will leak. You and I are going to work on finding a way to use order and chaos to do that glazing.”
“But he hasn’t built the cistern yet.”
“No, he hasn’t. That will give us time to work out how to glaze it. We can practice on broken bricks.”
Before long Faastah appeared with a cart loaded with bricks and wooden buckets. After tying the cart horse to the inset iron ring on the battered hitching post and lifting a small bucket out of the cart, he walked over to where Beltur and Taelya stood.
“This here’s an ash glaze. Don’t know if that’s what you want. You brush it on, but the kiln’s got to be really hot. Do you care what color the glaze is?”
Beltur shook his head. “Will it stick to brick and mortar?”
“It’ll stick to hard-fired brick. I’ve never tried glazing mortar.”
“Neither have we. That’s why we need to see what it takes.”
Faastah looked to Taelya.
“She’s a beginning white mage. I thought she could learn with me.”
“You’re a black mage.”
“I am, but I started out as a white mage before the Prefect chased me out of Gallos,” replied Beltur. “It’s a very long story. But it’s also why I can teach Taelya.”
“Times are changing, that’s for sure.” Faastah lifted the bucket.
Beltur took it. “Thank you. We’ll see how we’ll make this work.”
“Best be getting to starting those walls for you … and doing repairs after Gorlaak gets done with the timbering and re-flooring.” Faastah nodded and headed back to the cart.
Beltur smiled at Taelya. “I’m going to study the glaze a bit. Would you see if you can gather up any broken bricks or large pieces of brick?”
“I can do that.”
As Taelya skipped up toward the house, Beltur wondered if he was being too optimistic, if mere repairs, and patrolling, would make any difference at all. We have to start somewhere.
He took a deep breath and let his senses range over the glaze, but he could discern neither excess order nor chaos. The question was whether a mixture of order and chaos, or chaos confined by order, could turn the paste into a solid glaze that would hold and not crack. And that’s going to be difficult to work out … if you can do it at all. But if it would reduce water hauling …
Beltur stirred the glaze with the old brush in the bucket, thinking as he did.
When Taelya returned with several broken bricks, Beltur led the way to the heaped stone wall that presumably marked the property line between the house under repair and a stone-walled cottage that he knew was inhabited, although he couldn’t remember the names of the older couple who lived there. Then he lined up the broken bricks on the uneven top of the wall and daubed the brick section on the far left with glaze. He stepped back and set the bucket on the ground well away from the wall.
“Taelya … I want you to make a point of chaos about the size of your fingertip and touch the glaze with it. Stand back from the wall a few steps.”
As Taelya did that, Beltur extended his shields around her.
SPLATT! Glaze sprayed away from the chaos, which vanished instantly, and droplets struck the shields.
“Oh!!!” Taelya jumped back.
Beltur laughed softly. “I can see that this is going to take some work by both of us.” He paused, then picked up the bucket and daubed the same brick again. “Do the same thing again, but this time, I’m going to use a shield around your chaos.”
Taelya nodded and concentrated.
Beltur used a small shield to press Taelya’s gathered free chaos against the surface of the brick.
Hsssttt … The glaze bubbled under the shield at the edges.
After several moments, Beltur eased the shield up from the brick. The glaze still looked liquid, but Beltur used the brush to remove most of the liquid, studying the surface of the brick with both his eyes and senses. He could sense the faintest amount of order loosely linked to the brick where there appeared to be a slight residue, but when he tapped it with the point of his belt knife, the small flake of glaze separated from the brick.
“Well … that’s a little better, but we need to try again.”
On the third try, Beltur applied more pressure with his shield … and the brick fragment split.
“Oops … you were too strong, Uncle Beltur.”
“So it seems.” Beltur studied the split fragment. In several places, there appeared to be the thinnest coating of a shiny brownish glaze. He was about to apply glaze to the side of the next broken brick when he sensed Lhadoraak walking toward the two of them. He turned and straightened. “Here comes your father. He’s going to want to know what we’re doing. Would you like to tell him?”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I thought I sensed chaos. What under the stars are you two doing?”
Taelya grinned. “You did. Uncle Beltur and I are trying to use order and chaos to make glaze stick to bricks.”
Lhadoraak frowned and looked to Beltur. “What for?”
“So that we can have kitchen cisterns.” Beltur quickly explained, then added, “I also thought that it would be a good controlled way for Taelya to learn to handle very small bits of chaos safely.”
Lhadoraak shook his head. “I might have known you’d figure out something like that.”
“We haven’t worked it out yet,” Beltur pointed out.
“You will. Somehow, you will.” The older mage smiled and looked at his daughter. “Just don’t do anything except what Uncle Beltur tells you.”
“Yes, Father.”
Lhadoraak turned and walked back toward the house.
Beltur daubed glaze on the next broken brick fragment.
XI
Since Gorlaak, Jaegyr, and Faastah professed not to mind working on eightday, so long as they were paid, all of them were at the house at seventh glass. Beltur suspected that all three feared that their pay would vanish once the Montgren troopers left, but he wasn’t about to argue against that belief because he and Lhadoraak could help, at least to some degree, and that would be less possible once the two of them had to take over the task of keeping Haven safe and once the traders returned … and not to mention the possibility of armsmen, renegade or otherwise.
By eightday afternoon, when they quit for the day, Faastah had finished the short support walls for the kitchen cistern, and all the floor timbers had been reinforced or strengthened except for those that would underlie the cistern, and most of the windows had been reframed, those by Jaegyr and Lhadoraak, who was far better with wood than he’d ever let on to Beltur.
Beltur and Taelya were equally tired, but had far less to show for their efforts. After almost two full days of working on the idea of glazing the interior of the cistern, Beltur was about to give up, and would have said so, except the last few attempts of the day had produced a very thin but even glaze, and Beltur wanted to see if multiple layers of a thin glaze might work … assuming that they could overlap the applications without getting cracks or breaks. If that didn’t work, they’d just have to deal with a leaky cistern … or tear it out.
The first glass working at the house on oneday morning was a repeat of eightday morning, except that Beltur and Taelya had finally discovered a way to make the glazing work when Beltur placed a “net” of order within the glaze and then let Taelya apply chaos while he pressed an order shield against the chaos-tinged glaze. That also allowed a heavier coating of glaze.
He wasn’t sure why that had worked, as opposed to what else they had tried, but given two days of frustration, he was more than glad they’d found something that had
finally worked.
Two days of experimenting isn’t really that long, he thought. It just seemed that long, given everything that lay in front of them. He looked to Taelya. “How are you in small spaces?”
“Why, Uncle Beltur?”
“Someone’s going to have to brush the glaze over all the bricks and mortar.”
“And I’m smaller?”
“That’s right. Then we’ll lift you out and work on the order/chaos glazing together.”
“I won’t have to be inside when we do that?”
“No. We’ll be outside looking into the cistern from the top. Let’s go tell Faastah and your father that it looks like we can make the cistern work.”
When they entered the house, Beltur noticed that Faastah was doing the brickwork in the large kitchen hearth for the stove and oven.
The mason grinned at Beltur. “Haven’t done one of these in a long while. Your lady’ll like it.”
“I’ll like it,” returned Beltur. “I had a makeshift apprenticing with a baker.” Then he announced, “I think Taelya and I have finally figured the glazing out.”
“I thought you would,” said Lhadoraak, from where he was helping Jaegyr.
“But it’s going to take a while,” Beltur announced. “A few days, anyway, and that’s after the mortar’s well set. It’s only going to work if we apply the glaze bit by bit. And Taelya’s absolutely necessary.”
“Oh?” said Lhadoraak.
“It’s not just the chaos. The glaze has to be applied from inside the cistern. All of us are too big to do that, unless we want to hang upside down and juggle a glaze bucket.”
“You mages just might be starting something. Not only stoves, but inside cisterns, yet,” offered the wiry Jaegyr as he blotted his forehead with the back of his hand. “Be good to have a healer, too. Your healer was talking to Julli when I left.”
“She needs herbs.”
“Julli’s got ’em.”
At the sound of hoofbeats, Beltur looked through the window to the lane and saw one of Karch’s troopers reining up outside. “I think there’s a problem. Taelya, stay with your father for the moment.” Then he hurried outside and down the cracked paving stones of the walk to where the trooper had dismounted.
“Ser, the patrol thought you might like to know that some traders are riding into town. They asked where to find the new council. Squad leader told them to try the Council House first. Then he sent me to tell you.”
“I appreciate it. My thanks, and please also convey them to the squad leader. How long before they get here?”
“They had a wagon. They were taking their time.”
“Good. I need to get to the Council House, then. If you’d tell Lhadoraak—the other mage—what you told me and that I’m headed there, I’d appreciate it.”
Since Beltur hadn’t seen the need to bring Slowpoke just to have him stand around in the sun all day, he had to hurry, not quite at a run, back to the square and the Council House. He was definitely hot and breathing heavily when he hurried through the front door and into the large front chamber, but at least he’d beaten the traders.
“What is it?” asked Tulya, starting to stand from behind the table desk where she’d been working on setting up a tariff ledger.
“There are some traders headed here. They’re looking for the new council. I’d like them to talk to you first, without them seeing me. I’ll be right in the corner, and I’ll have you shielded.”
“Where’s Taelya?”
“She’s with Lhadoraak at the house. The troopers told the traders to come here.”
“Does he know there are traders coming?”
“Yes. The only one who doesn’t is Jessyla.” Beltur eased past Tulya to stand behind her against the wall.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Offer to be helpful and tell the truth about everything except for the fact that I’m here protecting you. Try to draw them out.”
“That might not be as easy as it sounds.”
“If what we’ve heard about the traders is true, it won’t be difficult. It also won’t be pleasant. But perhaps we’ll be surprised.”
“If we’re surprised pleasantly, that would be a change.”
Beltur thought about saying that Korsaen had surprised them pleasantly, but he wasn’t totally sure that Tulya would see it that way. “We’ll have to see.” He could both see and sense riders approaching and drew a concealment around himself. “Several men are riding toward the Council House. I’m concealed.”
Tulya settled into the chair and waited.
Shortly, two men walked into the front room. Both were likely fifteen years older than Beltur, but the slightly shorter, red-bearded man was most likely a guard, given the long dirk and the sabre-length blades he wore at his wide leather belt. He positioned himself to cover the door, as though he expected someone might enter.
The taller man was clean-shaven and wore a dark gray jacket over a mostly white shirt. He stopped short of Tulya and the table. “Well … well … what have we here?”
“What are you looking for, Trader?” asked Tulya. “You are a trader, aren’t you?”
“I’ll ask the questions. What’s this I hear about a new town council?”
“There is a new town council,” replied Tulya evenly. “How might I be able to help you?”
“By telling this so-called council to leave. We don’t need a council to collect tariffs for doing nothing.”
“Traders in Montgren don’t pay tariffs on goods transported through Montgren,” replied Tulya evenly. “They do pay tariffs seasonally if their business is based in Montgren. That includes here in Haven.”
“That’s frigging robbery. Taking coins for doing nothing. There’s not even a working fountain in the square.”
“There is now,” said Tulya.
“It won’t stay that way.”
“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” replied Tulya with a sweetness that masked irritation, Beltur sensed.
“Still say it’s theft of a working trader’s coins.”
“That’s true in any chartered town in Montgren.”
“Haven’s not chartered. It hasn’t been for years.”
“It hadn’t been for years,” corrected Tulya. “It is now.”
“Whose charter?”
“The Duchess’s.”
“She going to keep those troopers here? Don’t see any post or barracks being built. Otherwise, nothing’s going to change.”
Beltur decided it was time to put in an appearance. He dropped the concealment. “No. She decided it would be more effective to use mages. That’s why we’re the new council.” He smiled pleasantly.
“Sort of young for that, aren’t you?” sneered the trader.
“I suppose you’ll have to find that out,” replied Beltur. “By the way, I’m Beltur. Who might you be?”
“Duurben. And don’t you forget it.”
Duurben—one of those mentioned unfavorably by Julli. “Duurben—it’s good to put a face to a name.”
“Don’t think that one mage is going to change anything.”
“I wouldn’t think of it, Duurben. Not at all. Neither did the Duchess. That’s why she sent three and a healer.”
Duurben paused, if just for an instant. “One or three … it makes no difference.”
“You’re absolutely right,” replied Beltur with a smile. “Haven’s returning to being an ordered town. You behave in an ordered way, and you’ll have no problems at all.”
There was another pause before Duurben said, “What did you promise that white to join you?”
“Oh … there were two whites. They decided not to join us. They departed in their own way.”
“They’ll be back.”
Beltur shook his head. “No one returns from the ashes.”
“You’re a black.”
“He was also the leading war mage for Spidlar,” said Tulya. “The one who destroyed most of the white war mages of Gallos.”
> “So the Duchess hired the strongest black she could find.” Duurben shook his head. “Even you can’t change a town.” He smiled. “But it will be interesting to watch.” He half nodded. “We won’t provide any trouble. We aren’t based in Haven. So don’t try to impose tariffs on us.”
“We won’t,” replied Tulya. “Unless you store goods here for more than a season a year. Then you’re a resident, according to the laws of Montgren.”
“A woman clerk who knows the law … amazing!” Immediately, Duurben turned and departed, followed by his guard.
“I really don’t like him,” said Tulya.
“According to Julli, he’s one of the worst.” Beltur both saw and sensed that Duurben and his guard were riding across the square toward the East Inn.
“You didn’t mention that I’m part of the Council,” Tulya said.
“He didn’t stay long enough for either of us to make that point … or to say anything about the Council. I’m going to the inn. For now, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble, but bar the door after I leave. If anyone comes and you stay out of sight, they’ll likely think the building’s empty.”
“How long before we have to worry?”
“When Karch and the troopers leave, I’d guess. Excuse me, I need to follow the trader.”
Before stepping out of the Council House, Beltur drew a concealment around himself. Then he walked swiftly across the square and into the inn through the rear door, making his way toward the front foyer where he suspected he would find Duurben and Bythalt. He wasn’t mistaken. He eased closer, listening carefully.
“Bythalt … how long have I been coming here?”
“Years, ser. Years.”
“How long has that mage been here? To the day?”
That question told Beltur that Duurben had a very good idea how long troopers had stayed in the past and was likely calculating when they would leave so that he and his men could return.
“One eightday and four days.”
“Has he paid you? Or is it all promises?”
“He and the captain have paid … separately.”
There was a momentary silence before Duurben spoke again. “How strong is that mage?”
“Which mage, ser? The younger one, the older black, or the healer?”
The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce) Page 9