“Us? Infuse order?”
“Let us just say that matters will shortly become very chaotic in Candar. That is, if my scholars are correct, and so far they have been. This will provide us an opportunity to impose our own form of order.”
“The grand fleet?” Dyrsse pauses when there is no answer, but does not wipe the perspiration from his forehead. “Sire… as you know… As you know, I have indicated that the forces presently committed to Candar are insufficient.”
“That they are, but, for now, you will carry out the orders of Rignelgio or his successor, as well as you are able.”
“As you wish, sire.”
“It is as I wish, Dyrsse. Remember, one cannot eradicate a nest of vipers without provoking and observing them to determine how widely and deeply they are spread. If I send the grand fleet now, what will it gain me?”
“All of Candar will submit. Or…”
“They might put aside their petty quarrels? They might, although I doubt any, except the autarch of Kyphros, are so perceptive. Better that we continue with the present strategy. Candar will fall, country by country, and then… then the black devils will have nowhere to turn.”
“Yes, ser.”
“You are thinking that it is better to strike with a heavy hammer from the first.” There is a sigh from the throne. “That hammer must be saved until it can be used on the black devils. It would not take the grand fleet to subdue Candar, now, would it, Marshal Dyrsse?”
“I would think not, but it will take more than the twenty-odd warships steaming across the Western Ocean.”
“You will have more ships for Candar, but not the grand fleet. You know that my grandfather would have liked to see that fleet? He especially would have liked to see the shells fall on the black city.”
“Yes, ser.”
Another sigh, theatrically loud, issues from the Emperor. “I see I must spell matters out, even for the great Marshal Dyrsse. It is simple. You are to take Candar. Ser Rignelgio has already begun the process with the Duke of Freetown. You are to support him. One means of such support is to cut off the Candarian traders from trading with Recluce. The other is to block the Recluce traders from providing support to Candar.”
“The black mages will send out their ships.”
“It is a little-known secret that they only have three. Perhaps you could eliminate one or perhaps two with the ships you will have-on the pretext of our conquest of Candar.”
“Only three? Three ships, and we have worried about Recluce for so long?”
“Those three ships have sunk dozens of our best vessels over the years, because they are quick and cannot be seen. That is why everyone has believed there were more, but… we have excellent sources of information, Marshal. There are only three ships. Each formidable, but… they cannot cover an entire continent. ”
Dyrsse covers a frown with a nod.
“You are beginning to understand. Good. The heart of the power of Recluce lies in the black city of Nylan. When Nylan falls, so does Recluce. And if Nylan is reduced to black gravel… do you understand?”
“I understand that Nylan and Recluce must fall, ser.”
“Good. For now, Rignelgio and Leithrrse will direct the efforts in Candar. I rather suspect that they, and most nobles of Hamor, fail to understand the true danger that faces us on the far side of the Eastern Ocean. You will support them with all your skill. Then will I provide you with the tools to reduce Nylan and destroy Recluce.”
“You do not expect them to fail?” Dyrsse feels his lips drying, but does not moisten them, not with the Emperor studying him.
“They are great nobles of Hamor, and their peers have forgotten that Hamor has lost two great fleets to the black isle, even before the black ships.”
“Ser… you tell me that I must support your envoys with all my skill, but that they will not prevail.” Dyrsse bows. “I am a fighting man, and I will carry out my duty to my last breath, but I must know that duty. I cannot rely on guessing your will, ser.”
“My will is simple, Dyrsse. Crush Recluce. My envoys are interested in growing rich from Candar and making token efforts against the black isle. Sooner or later Recluce will crush them, and you will inherit their authority, an authority I cannot now give you, for the danger is not yet obvious, and even emperors must consider the beliefs of their nobles.”
“Ser, my duty is clear, and I will do my best to carry it out. However, you have pointed out that no one has successfully taken on the black devils and their invisible ships-even if they do only have three. And that does not count their mages. Can you provide some guidance?”
“You are highly recommended. Why must I spell out every detail?”
“So I can do my best for you.”
There is a sigh from the throne. “After the others fail… you will receive my mandate, and you will bring all the powers of Hamor against Recluce. No one has ever before had hundreds of ships of black steel and order. Nor guns that fire five - and ten-stone shells. As for the black mages, they, too, are limited. Never has Recluce had more than a handful, and that handful will not be enough to prevail against the massed order of the grand fleet-when the time comes.” There is a pause from the throne.“Now… do you understand your orders? And your duty?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Then I look forward to the success of your efforts. You may go.”
Dyrsse bows again. Not until he is outside the chamber does he wipe his sweating forehead.
VII
A GRAY SKY brooded over Kyphros, but the wind was light when Yelena-the squad leader who’d escorted me on the first part of the effort against the white wizard Antonin-and three troopers met me outside the stable. The air smelled more like rain than fall.
Krystal and her guards had left early, far earlier, and I knew she wouldn’t have come home the night before-except that I was leaving. Gairloch’s saddlebags were full, not only with some apprentice-type tools, but with travel bread and hard cheese. I had some fruit stashed away also, and a heavier jacket, a waterproof, and the bedroll I’d gotten in Howlett when I first came to Recluce. The canteen held redberry, but I knew that wouldn’t last. All in all, Gairloch was laden.
For some reason, when I thought of the bedroll, made in Recluce, I wondered about my parents. I could have written, and sent the letter by a trader, but I’d almost felt as if they’d been the ones to throw me out, to send me on my dangergeld. And I’d never even known that my father, the great Gunnar, was a Temple master and head of the Institute for Order Studies.
Should I write? I still didn’t know as I stood there in the yard.
“Good morning, Order-master.”
Yelena’s greeting cut off my speculations.
“Good morning, Leader Yelena.” I swung onto Gairloch and flicked the reins. He didn’t need the hint; he was already moving toward the main road.
Wheeee… eeee.
“Yes, I know. You thought we’d given this up.” I patted Gairloch on the neck, and he whuffed once.
“One never gives up being an order-master.” Yelena rode up beside me, and I had to look up at the squad leader. Her mount was a good four hands taller than Gairloch.
“Like one never gives up being a member of the Finest?”
“You die with your boots on, anyway.”
“You are so cheerful this morning.” I thwacked Gairloch too hard for a mere pat, but he only whuffed again.
Weldein tried to suppress a grin. Freyda and the other guard-Jylla was her name, if I recalled correctly-rode silently behind us.
My fingers strayed to the replacement staff in the converted lance holder. It was just solid lorken, but bound in iron- without the sort of order infusion that my old one had possessed. Of course, I’d given it that infusion, without really knowing it. As Justen had pointed out, that was one of the problems. Recluce-and my father-hadn’t taught me enough, and I still didn’t understand why.
“It’s better than doing guard duty around the citadel.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Jylla cheerfully.
“Women,” muttered Weldein.
Since we were outnumbered, I saw no reason to comment, but shifted my weight and hoped that the day stayed cool.
I pulled the staff from the holder and began to run through the mounted exercises, since I rarely practiced them, my infrequent sparring being generally on foot.
After a time I replaced the staff, conscious that Freyda had been watching. I raised my eyebrows.
“Only the red bitch is better, I think.”
I tried not to choke. “The red bitch?”
“The gray wizard’s apprentice. The subcommander made us spar against her.” Freyda winced. “My ribs still hurt, and that was three days ago.”
“You sparred with her yesterday, didn’t you, Order-master?” asked Yelena. The question was not quite a question.
“Yes. I think I held her to a draw.”
“She had a few new bruises, I think.”
Tamra? I’d actually bruised her? I shook my head.
Yelena gave me a bemused smile as Freyda and Jylla exchanged glances. I fingered the staff, then concentrated on riding. We had to go through Kyphrien to get to the east road, and the mixed odor of overcooked lamb and goat, onions, and less mentionable items struck me long before we got onto the avenue. The babble was the same as always.
“… Mytara, if I’ve told you once about eggs…”
“… finest bronze in Candar…”
“You’d think that she’d appreciate a solid provider, but, no, she’s got to insist on a dandy, one with a pretty face. What will she do when she’s got three offspring, and needs money for a serving girl? Does she think of that…”
“… and you could have walked the lake and not dampened your boots…”
“Let Hyrella tell your fortune! A mere copper. Will you grudge a mere copper to learn your fate?”
“… best pies in Kyphros…”
“Thief! Thief! Get the little scamp!”
My eyes darted to the thin figure who pounded down the cobblestone road, scuttled between two women, and darted into a narrow alleyway leading down toward the river.
The heavyset merchant puffed to a stop and glared at Yelena. “You serve the autarch, and you let him get away! Why didn’t you stop him?”
Yelena reined up, and so did I. Several passersby turned.
“Well, why didn’t you stop him?” The man’s heavy waxed mustaches waved as he panted out his question.
“I would have had to ride over people,” answered Yelena.
“That’s no answer. You let a thief get away! I intend to let the autarch know of this… disgraceful…”
“… there goes Fusion again…”
“… too fat to chase anyone and too crooked for anyone to help him…”
Fusion turned. “I heard that. Liars! Liars!”
“…too fat…”
“… too full of himself, he is…”
Yelena struggled to keep a straight face, as Fusion rolled his bulk back to face me. “You! Tell those guards to chase the thief.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “He’s gone. What did he steal?”
“He took some olives, right from the barrel. Scooped them up and ran off.” The fat man waddled toward me.
“… kid could have used the olives more than Fusion…”
“You’re that famous order-master! Why don’t you make sure there’s order here in Kyphrien?” Fusion’s acrid breath hit me harder than his words as he leaned forward, his face less than two cubits from me. Why was it that people like Fusion recognized me and some of the Finest didn’t? Probably because Fusion watched parades like the one Kasee gave on my return to Kyphros, and the soldiers were working or on picket duty- or something.
“I presume he was hungry,” I said evenly, letting Gairloch back away.
“So he was hungry! He stole my olives, and what are you going to do about it?” Fusion stepped forward to close the distance between us again.
Yelena fingered her blade, and Freyda and Jylla watched with impassive faces.
“Let me understand this,” I temporized. “This young thief was so hungry that he took some olives out of the barrel right in front of your eyes?”
“Of course. How else would I have seen him?”
“Does not that tell you something? He is either terribly arrogant, terribly stupid, or terribly hungry. If he is arrogant or stupid, he will try something like that again, and, before long, someone will catch him.” I cleared my throat. “Unhappily, if he is that hungry, he will steal again also, and he will be caught.” I tried to think through what I should say as the merchant jabbed a fat finger at me.
“You won’t do anything? A fine wizard you are!”
I caught his eyes. “You are wealthy. You are well fed, and you have the means to protect yourself. You are angry because a boy made a fool out of you, and you want to blame someone else. This thief is long gone. I am not a white wizard who sniffs after blood. Nor am I a white wizard who burns people into cinders. What do you want?”
“I want justice!”
I grinned. “But you have justice. A hungry boy has been fed, and you have warned everyone about a thief. Is that not justice? Or would you call it justice if a white wizard threw a firebolt and turned that hungry thief into ashes?”
“Bah… the autarch will hear about this… you’ll see… you’ll see…” Fusion gave me a last glare before turning and waddling away.
“… not a bad answer for a young wizard…”
“… not thai good…”
“… he’s right about Fusion. He’s too well fed to chase his young wife around the bed… forget about thieves…”
We continued riding along the stone-paved street that would lead to the east road.
“That wasn’t a bad sermon,” said Yelena. “Do they teach you that in wizard’s school?”
“There isn’t a wizard’s school. My father and Justen were always telling me to think before I spoke. People like that merchant don’t give you any time to think.” My fingers touched the smooth wood of the staff, and the wood offered some comfort, although I was careful not to put any more order into the staff. You can divide your soul that way. That’s really what happens to some wizards, and they don’t even know it. I know. It happened to me, but I managed to get it back, mainly because Justen insisted that I reread The Basis of Order.
“I don’t believe in theft.” I coughed. I wasn’t used to talking that much. Woodworking without an apprentice is quiet work. “But I don’t believe that whipping or killing people desperate enough to steal food in the daylight is likely to do much good.”
“No.” Weldein glanced toward the eastern gates less than two hundred cubits ahead.
Jylla and Freyda nodded.
I gave Gairloch another pat and looked back toward the autarch’s residence, although I couldn’t see it, and then at the road stretching ahead.
VIII
THE TALL SANDY - haired man with the heavy forearms walked along the pier toward the ship in the end berth. The light wind brought the smell of cooking from the waterfront of Nylan to the pier, mixing the oil with the scents of seaweed and fish. The steel-hulled vessel with the nameplate Shrezsan flew the flag of Hamor from a jackstaff above the stern. As he noted the nameplate, a faint smile crossed his lips.
Wisps of steam seeped from the twin funnels. No paddle-wheels protruded from the smooth lines of the hull, but the tips of the two big screws were visible just beneath the surface of the gray water in the harbor of Nylan. The tall man stood by a bollard not quite half his height and closed his eyes, concentrating on the ship. After he had stood silently for a time, a steam-powered tractor puffed by, then slowed.
“Is that you, Magister Gunnar?”
Gunnar opened his eyes and turned to the dark-haired woman in black coveralls. He inclined his head.
“Caron. From Sigil. I took your order ethics class at the Temple in Wandernaught.”
“I
’m sorry, I did not recognize you.” He gestured toward the ship. “I’d heard about the new Hamorian steamers, and I wanted to see one.”
“She’s a beauty. Fast, too.”
“Shrezsan-that’s not a Hamorian name. I wonder…”
Caron laughed. “The ship belongs to Leithrrse. He came from Enstronn, but he couldn’t finish dangergeld. He’s a prosperous merchant in Hamor, sometimes even acts as an envoy for the Emperor-not here, of course.”
“No… I suppose not.” Gunnar paused. “The steel seems almost as tough as black iron, and the propellers are smooth-finished.”
Caron nodded. “They’ve built some warships that are even faster, according to the mate, lots of them, with more on the way. He looked over his shoulder when he told me.”
“If they can do this, I’d not be surprised if they’re going to arm them with cannon.”
Caron looked down the pier and back. “They have. Hundreds maybe. That’s what one of the sailors was saying in the White Stag.”
Gunnar pulled at his chin. “Take a lot of iron.”
“Hamor’s got a lot.”
“I suppose.” Gunnar looked beyond the ship, out toward the Gulf and Candar.
A steam whistle blew, and Caron flashed a brief smile. “That’s for me. They need to load this up. It was good seeing you, Magister Gunnar.”
“Good to see you, Caron.” Gunnar took another look at the Shrezsan, then stepped back next to the bollard and closed his eyes once more.
The steam whistle tooted twice more; and a pair of gulls swooped down and across the stem of the steamer.
A wake left the next pier, a pier guarded and apparently empty, for all that the ripples signified a departing ship.
Gunnar’s eyes opened and followed the unseen ship for a time. Finally, he shook his head and walked back toward the shops at the foot of the pier.
IX
WE HEADED SOUTHEAST from Kyphrien on a packed clay road wide enough for three horses or a wagon and one horse, riding through the hills of red clay covered with fine sand, patches of grass, and desert olive groves, meticulously tended, their leaves gray in the early winter light. Between the groves were villages, so small they had no kaystones, no squares, just white-plastered houses with red tile roofs and handfuls of children scattered in odd places-on stone walls or tending sheep or driving oxen with long wands.
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