The Chaos Balance

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I know that!” Lephi turned but did not move from his position by the window. “The man is honest, and he saved troops that would have been slaughtered. But it should not have happened that way. The barbarians should attack valiantly and break against the lancers, as they have always done. There should be no fireballs in Lornth. You told me that the three white mages of the barbarians had been killed.”

  “There are the angels.”

  “Do we know there are angels in Lornth?”

  “There is… something…” Triendar admitted. “I have seen a man and a woman and a child, but only those three.”

  “Only three?”

  “Only three. There is the Accursed Forest-”

  “Always the forest… will Cyad…” Lephi clamped his jaw shut. “Find out more about the three. And be prepared to bring all manner of fire upon the barbarians when we meet on the field.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Triendar bowed, just deeply enough for the gesture not to be mocking.

  CIX

  THERE’S YOUR REAL lake.“ Nylan pointed toward the silver-tinged and elongated oval in the valley below as the mare carried him along the crest of the low ridge on a dusty road that was scarcely more than a trail. The stillness of the air made it seem far later in the day than mid-morning.

  “I said there was one.” Ayrlyn surveyed the valley. “Not much else here.”

  Nylan nodded. Ahead on the left was a holding of some sort, and a thin line of smoke rose into the green-blue sky from near the lake, kays yet ahead.

  “With water so scarce, you’d think there’d be more people around a lake,” Ayrlyn added.

  “Maybe it’s salty, too.” Nylan glanced toward the holding as they rode nearer. Nothing moved.

  “It didn’t feel that way.”

  The angel smith reined up, and wiped his forehead. Like everywhere in Candar outside the higher Westhorns, it was hot. And like all of southern Lornth-or northern Cyador- it seemed, there wasn’t enough of a breeze to notice.

  Sylenia slowed her mount gradually, clearly trying not to jolt the dozing Weryl, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead.

  The lane on the left side of the road led arrowlike to three structures perhaps a hundred cubits to the west-a square house, what appeared to be a barn, and a large shed. A dark rectangular emptiness gaped where the barn door had been, and one side of the shed had caved in, imparting a rakish tilt to the sagging roof. The lane bore no tracks, but no weeds grew where ancient wagon wheels had packed the ground.

  “No sign of fire,” mused Nylan. “Just worn out.” He flicked the reins and eased the mare back into a walk.

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “I hope not.” Nylan didn’t have to force the grin too much.

  “You’re difficult, and when you’re not difficult, you’re impossible.” Ayrlyn smiled.

  “Good.”

  A half kay beyond the abandoned stead, the road turned south again and descended into the east end of the valley. The lake was at the west end.

  “You can tell that the lake was bigger.” Ayrlyn gestured. “The flat meadows there? That’s old lake bottomland. And there are mud or sand flats around the eastern end.”

  A thin plume of smoke rose from the house on the low hill to the southwest of the marshy lake.

  “Why would they build a house so far from the water?” asked Nylan.

  “Wadah?” asked Weryl.

  “In a moment, child,” said Sylenia in a low voice.

  Nylan grinned.

  “I’d bet the water level’s seasonal,” Ayrlyn explained. “In the past, it might have filled the whole bottom of the valley. That abandoned holding was on the ridge too. Probably the well went when the water level dropped.”

  “Another part of the puzzle.”

  “It’s no puzzle,” the redhead said. “All of this part of Candar is slowly changing to a drier climate.”

  The road followed what might have been the former high-water level of the lake on the north side of the valley. The grasses they rode past were thicker, with traces of green, on the bottomland below the road.

  On the right side of the road grazed a scattered flock of gray-white sheep, but there was no sign of a shepherd.

  “Not many people,” Ayrlyn said.

  “I have the feeling that we’re on the frontiers of Cyador.”

  “That’s the real puzzle,” she said. “Why would Cyador be so interested in taking over Lornth? This valley is a lot more hospitable than southern Lornth, and people have abandoned it.”

  “Maybe it’s the copper, or coal, or extractive resources that they need.”

  “Maybe… but why?”

  Nylan shrugged. He didn’t know, and there was so much they didn’t know.

  “They do not like the old people of Candar,” ventured Sylenia from where she rode slightly behind them. “Not those who live beyond their white walls.”

  The faint baaaaing of the sheep drifted toward the riders, and Nylan glanced down at the animals. Still no herder or even herd dogs. A golden bird, heavy and plumpish, burst out of the knee-high grasses below the road and soared eastward toward the even higher grasses.

  “That looked like some sort of pheasant.”

  “If it looked like a pheasant…”

  “… it probably was,” Ayrlyn concluded.

  “I’d bet they taste good.” Nylan could feel himself salivating.

  “They be most tasty,” Sylenia affirmed. “In Lornth, only the lords may hunt them.”

  That somehow figured. Nylan studied the lake ahead. On the south side, across from where they approached, was a stand of reeds.

  “You think this is safe? Or should we wait until it’s dark?”

  “If anyone’s looking, they’ve already decided to do something… or not. If they have, we’ll find out quickly. If not, why give them more time? Besides, we need the water now.” Ayrlyn paused. “And I don’t feel like there are many people around here.”

  “Probably not.”

  Golden sand stretched back from the water on the eastern end nearly a hundred cubits with the beach running twice that in width, almost like a resort bathing area on Svenn.

  “The runoff carries the sand here. The reeds hold soil and organic matter. It’s probably a very clean lake. I’d like a bath.” Ayrlyn glanced toward the house on the hill at the west end of the small lake. “This is the first real water we’ve seen in… I’m not sure how long.”

  “Weryl, he could use bathing,” suggested Sylenia.

  Of that Nylan was also sure. “Let’s water the mounts and fill water bottles first,” he suggested. “Just in case.”

  “You’re probably right, but it feels like that one house is the only one with people in it.”

  They reined up just at the edge of the sand. Nylan glanced across the lake, but no one appeared, and the thin line of smoke continued to rise into the hot midday sky.

  “I’ll water the mounts over there, and you and Sylenia fill the water bottles. If no one shows up, then you three bathe, and I’ll watch.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll watch! But will you watch what you’re supposed to be watching?”

  “I’m trying to be practical,” Nylan protested. “Even if someone does show up, it will take time.”

  Ayrlyn nodded. “I’m sorry. We’d have to hold them off while you scramble into your clothes? Or onto your horse?” She grinned. “I might just yell to see you do it, especially if your eyes stray too much when we’re bathing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ve been warned.”

  Once the water bottles were filled, Sylenia wasted no time in stripping off her riding clothes, and Weryl’s as well, and wading into the lake, dipping Weryl’s toes as she did. Although Nylan did his best to watch the house and the road in both directions, he could definitely understand Tonsar’s attraction to the young woman-although he was glad Tonsar wasn’t around to see Ayrlyn’s charms.

  “Watch the road,” she called.

  He flu
shed and ostentatiously turned his head.

  “That’s better.”

  Once the three left the water, he concentrated even more on studying the road and the hillside.

  “All right,” Ayrlyn called as she finished pulling on her boots. “You can stop being so obviously a prudish martyr. You saw more than enough, and don’t tell me you didn’t.”

  He couldn’t help grinning at the humor in her voice.

  “It’s your turn.”

  He dismounted and handed all the reins to the redhead, then pulled off his boots, then his clothes. The water was barely cool, close to warmish, as Nylan waded in, very much conscious that both Sylenia and Ayrlyn watched. The slope of the sandy part was gradual, so gradual that he had to walk almost a hundred cubits before the water reached his thighs. By then the sand had given way to soft mud that squushed up between his toes.

  Finally, he plunged in, enjoying the coolness on his skin. The golden sand helped scrub away the grime of what seemed more than a season, although he kept looking toward the house on the hillside as he washed.

  As he walked back up the sandy slope to the beach, he turned ‘and glanced toward the hillside house, but could see no change, no puffs of dust that might indicate riders, just the same thin line of smoke from the chimney. Was someone baking or cooking, and just not looking outside?

  For a moment, he just stood in the sunlight, wiping off water with his hands before he tried to dry himself with the small square of cloth that doubled as a towel.

  Ayrlyn’s eyes flicked from the hillside toward the silver-haired angel. “Nice view.”

  “Thanks.” Nylan couldn’t help flushing, even as he saw that Sylenia busied herself with not looking in his direction and holding a water bottle for Weryl. “See anyone?”

  “No one, and it’s not as if there were any cover.”

  Nylan wasn’t sure whether he had minded washing up in plain view, or if the tightness in his stomach came from wondering whether anyone happened to be coming. He pulled on his clothes.

  Once he was dressed, he and Ayrlyn alternated washing out their spare sets of undergarments… and still no one appeared on the road.

  “Maybe we should camp here?” suggested Sylenia.

  Nylan and Ayrlyn exchanged glances.

  Both shook their heads.

  “Too open, and we need to get where we’re going,” Nylan finally said. Staying just didn’t feel right, and he could sense that Ayrlyn felt exactly the same way.

  He slipped into the saddle, looking back to see that the damp undergarments remained fastened to the outside of his saddlebags.

  The road curved up the hillside and past the single dwelling where smoke still drifted from the chimney, but the doors were closed, and the shutters on the lower levels were fastened tight.

  “They don’t like strangers,” Nylan said.

  “I can’t imagine raiders would come this far south. A xenophobic culture, you think?”

  “This far away from any towns? I don’t know.”

  Sylenia cast a longing look back at the blue of the lake as they rode over the hill crest.

  CX

  NESSLEK SAT ON the carpet by the armchair in which Zeldyan was seated with a stack of polished wooden blocks before him. The boy chewed on the corner of one, drool coming from the corners of his mouth.

  His mother read a scroll silently, while Gethen sipped chilled greenjuice from a goblet.

  Finally, Zeldyan looked up. “He writes that the angels brought down fire in the night on the mines, and destroyed many of the white demons. The remainder rode back toward Cyador, leaving a blackened ruin.” She let the scroll roll into a loose cylinder and extended it toward her sire. “After vanquishing the white demons,” she added, “the angels vanished, along with Sylenia and their child. None knew where they have gone. They left a scroll saying they would return.”

  “I will read what Fornal wrote later.” The gray-haired regent shook his head. “So we have a burned-out mine and no white demons. And no angels. Did they ride the winds?” A harsh laugh followed. “The last time I looked, they rode horses.”

  “When mages do not wish to be seen, often they are not.”

  “That be true enough, daughter.”

  “I do not think they have abandoned us,” mused Zeldyan. “Though I could not say why.”

  “They have abandoned Fornal.”

  “Have they? They drove off the white demons.” Zeldyan offered a faint smile. “They did not even promise that.”

  “The lord of Cyador will send all his forces against us,” pointed out the older regent, his right hand resting loosely around the crystal goblet. “You already prophesied that. More armsmen and lancers than we have ever seen.”

  “We agreed that we had no choice.”

  A wooden block thumped to the carpet, then clattered as it rolled off the fabric and across the stone tiles. Nesslek stood, holding the armchair and tugging at Zeldyan’s leg.

  Zeldyan laughed, but the sound was bitter.

  “Maaaa,” said Nesslek, pulling on his mother’s dark green trousers. “Maaa.”

  “Oh, child.” She swung him up into her lap and hugged him.

  Gethen continued after a pause. “What does your heart tell you about the angels?”

  Zeldyan frowned.

  “Your heart,” Gethen insisted.

  “They are good,” she admitted. “Did they not drive off the Cyadorans and send us one shipment of copper?”

  “That is true, but… the horses… and the firebolts and sneaking through the night?”

  “They have done what needed to be done.”

  “And, even should we prevail, Lornth will not be the same. That, more than defeat, is what our holders fear.”

  “One way or another, Lornth will change.” The blonde regent disentangled Nesslek’s fingers from her hair. “Still… my sire… you know I have not seen with the same eyes as Fornal… but he is worried, and he must face the white demons first.”

  “He has cause for worry. So do we, but-”

  “We should feed the holders the fodder we have?”

  “And tell them that we have done as they asked.” Gethen snorted. “And send a dispatch to Lady Ellindyja pointing out that we have reclaimed the patrimony of her grandson.”

  “Best it be done quickly, before…”

  Gethen nodded.

  “Then we will send Fornal a scroll, telling him that we will raise what other forces we can,” added Zeldyan.

  “Few as they will be.”

  “Few as they will be,” she confirmed.

  CXI

  NYLAN LOOKED AT the road ahead, almost flat as it curved westward around a low rise barely more than ten cubits high. Instead of the straggling, sun-browned stalks of the Grass Hills, the meadows flanking the road bore thicker grasses that, despite the approaching harvest time, were predominantly green. On the scattered hilltops not more than low rises, at infrequent intervals, were woodlots with borders sharp enough that they could have been trimmed flush with a laser.

  Scattered holdings flanked the woodlots, joined to the main road by lanes. Unlike in the lake valley, a handful of farmers and herders were visible, separated widely. But none ventured near the road.

  “Notice that?” asked Ayrlyn. “Notice what?”

  “In Lornth, the houses are close to the road. Here, they’re not. And I don’t think I’ve seen a single woman outside. Some small children, but no women. We’ve been riding two days straight since the lake-”

  “We did sleep some.”

  “If you call hiding in a woodlot sleeping.” Nylan forced himself to take a long, slow breath. “I slept.”

  “You and Weryl did-that’s true.”

  “It was hard to sleep,” added Sylenia. “About the women?” asked Nylan, trying to steer the subject away from his apparently ill-advised suggestion as to a place to rest.

  “It’s just a feeling-”

  “It be no feeling, lady,” said Sylenia. “Their women, they
lock away. Even more now since the time in the years of my ancestors that the noble ladies fled to Lornth.”

  “Gethen or someone mentioned that.” Ayrlyn stopped and looked toward the curve in the road.

  A small wagon, pulled by a thin gray horse, rolled from behind the rise around the curve and toward the three riders, its yellow painted spoke wheels barely raising dust.

  “First local we’ve seen on the road,” Nylan observed. The dark-haired and clean-shaven man on the wagon seat stared at the three riders, especially at Ayrlyn’s flaming hair. His eyes widened as he glanced from Ayrlyn to Sylenia and back to Ayrlyn, with barely a notice of Nylan.

  The angels and Sylenia drew their mounts onto the right shoulder of the road, and Nylan tugged the pack mare after them.

  The wagon driver edged his horse and wagon toward the other shoulder, his eyes still fixed on the strangers.

  Nylan smiled pleasantly, adding, “Good day,” in Old Rationalist.

  The driver’s mouth opened, then closed in a convulsive swallow, and he looked away, flicking the re.ins abruptly as he passed.

  Nylan glanced back. The pace of the wagon had definitely picked up. “I think we’re going to be reported to the local authorities.”

  “That’s not exactly surprising,” said Ayrlyn. “He kept looking at us as if we were… harlots or worse. I’m getting a very bad feeling about the position of women in Cyador… a very bad feeling.”

  Nylan had to admit that she was probably right-very right. “The sooner we find this forest, preferably before we run into the local authorities, the better.”

  “Nylan…” said Ayrlyn in a low voice, drawing her mount closer to his.

  “Yes?” His tone was wary.

  “You were probably right about sleeping well out of sight. We’re going to have to be careful.”

  “You think we should go cross-country?” He glanced over his shoulder again. There was no sign of the wagon.

  “Not until we have to. The roads are always faster.”

  That was true, and the road ahead, past the curve, appeared clear, with only a handful of the same scattered holdings spread across the rolling plains. How long it would be clear was another question.