The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  XLI

  AT LEAST KASEE sent a covered carriage for me-or Tamra did in the autarch’s name. Tamra also sent the iron-bound staff she had promised, and I rode in style through the heavy winter rain. Kyphrans complained about the winter rains, but compared to those on Recluce, or those I had experienced elsewhere in Candar, they were mild, indeed.

  I wore a brown cloak over the grays, and carried my new staff, using it as support to climb into the carriage. The staff barely fit inside, and I had to sit sideways because of the splint on my leg.

  Other than the words of greeting, neither the guard nor the driver spoke, but I wouldn’t have either, not while they were getting soaked and I wasn’t.

  Even with the carriage springs, the bumps still hurt some, and I wondered how long it would be before I could ride poor Gairloch again. He’d been burned too, but when I’d looked at him earlier in the day, he seemed to be healing well.

  The coach pulled up outside the main door to the autarch’s residence, where I was greeted by Jylla, her shoulder braced and bandaged.

  “Greetings, Order-master.”

  “Greetings.” I looked at her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She stepped into the long hall before she answered. A guard in greens closed the door behind us.

  “Don’t be. I’m lucky enough in one way. I’ll get a yearly stipend, and I’ll get out alive. The gray wizard says I’ll be able to use the arm, but not for heavy carrying.” Her eyes flicked across me. “You took as much as anyone. You looked like dead meat on that cart.”

  I had to grin. “I felt like dead meat.”

  “You looked better fried than some chops I’ve eaten.” She paused. “The envoy won’t be here for a bit, but the commander said you could sit in the comer of the audience room until everyone arrives.”

  “That’s fine.” I had to walk slowly toward the audience room, and the staff helped. That made my third staff since I’d gotten to Candar. One staff lasts most people a life, but I was on number three in less than that many years. “Where can I leave the cloak?”

  “There are some pegs in an alcove by the chamber.”

  “You’re not moving much faster than I am. We make quite a pair.”

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  The question caught me off guard. “What?”

  “The commander. You love her. I heard you on that cart. All you mumbled about was how you had to stop the rockets and the wizard.” Jylla slowed and pointed to the dark space on the side of the hallway. “She loves you, too, you know. She rode the whole way back beside the cart. She gave all the commands on horseback beside you.”

  I took off the cloak and started toward the alcove.

  “I’ll take it.”

  I didn’t protest.

  “That’s why,” Jylla continued as she returned, “everyone would die for her.”

  “Because she loves me?” That didn’t make sense.

  Jylla shook her head. “Because you love each other so much, and because you both fight, in your own way. You have more to lose than any of us. And you come from afar. How can anyone refuse?”

  I had to shake my head. In one way it made sense, and in another it was crazy. We could have been mad, and maybe we were. Being mad and in love didn’t make good leaders. And I wasn’t a leader. Krystal was, but I wasn’t. Maybe Tamra was.

  “I’m not the leader type.”

  “You are. You will learn that. Who led the charge?”

  That just confirmed that I was crazy.

  We walked up to the double doors. Jylla opened them, and I tried not to hobble too much. Inside, the oil lamps on the walls were lit, probably because the rain made the day dark, and not enough light came through the long narrow windows behind the line of columns on the outer wall. We were the only ones in the room that stretched at least sixty cubits from the doors to the hangings behind the autarch’s chair.

  The inside walls were paneled in dark wood. The end of the chamber held a dais raised not quite two cubits above the polished green marble of the floor tiles. A long green carpet ran down the center of the hall and led up the four steps of the dais. The dais was carpeted in the same green. The sole piece of furniture on the dais was the autarch’s chair-a light wood, probably white oak or young cherry, stained green. The chair had too much in the way of fanciful carvings wound into the arms and the back to be a simple chair, but it wasn’t quite bulky and impressive enough to be a throne. The only simple part seemed to be the plain green cushion.

  - I sat down on an armless chair tucked behind one of the columns and stretched out my splinted leg. “How long before this starts?”

  “Who would know?” Jylla started to shrug and winced.

  I understood that feeling.

  I heard the doors open and peered around the column to see two other figures in gray. Justen and Tamra crossed the chamber. The corners of Justen’s mouth were turned down, and his eyes were bleak.

  “How are you?” he asked. “Don’t get up yet.”

  “I’ll manage.” I didn’t get up.

  “You shouldn’t really be here.” He glared at his apprentice.

  Tamra smiled. “Lerris is stronger than you think.”

  “Hmmmphh.” He studied me. “We need to talk before too long. When you’re fully healed.”

  The doors opened at the far end of the audience hall, and a full squad of the Finest marched in, led by the thin subofficer who had led the first squad of Yelena’s force.

  After he lined them up, each half fronting a side of the dais, he put them at rest and crossed the green carpet that led to the chair. He nodded to Justen and Tamra, but walked up to me.

  “Greetings, Order-master.”

  “Greetings.” I stood. Using the staff helped, and I did make it up halfway gracefully, ignoring Justen’s frown.

  “I am Nusert, ser. I wanted to tell you that we are all in your debt, ser.”

  In my debt? I tried not to swallow my tongue.“I appreciate the thought, Nusert.” What could I say? “But… you and your troopers did what had to be done. I am pleased I was of some help.”

  “You are gracious, ser.” He bowed. “I must go.”

  He crossed the room and took a position at the end of the line of troopers closest to the door.

  A bell chimed, and the doors opened once more.

  Several dozen functionaries flowed into the chamber and stood farther back, the Finest holding the space open between the dais and the spectators. Some of the latest arrivals I did recognize-like Liessa, the autarch’s sister and heir; Mureas; and Public Works Minister Zeiber. Most I had never seen.

  “It’s time for us.” Tamra gestured.

  I levered myself along with the staff, and walked slowly, and stiffly, after Tamra and Justen. Climbing the four steps was awkward, but the staff helped, and we lined up slightly behind and to the left of Kasee’s chair.

  “You stand closest to the autarch,” hissed Tamra.

  I did.

  A small door I had not noted earlier on one side of the dais opened, and Krystal stepped out, followed by Kasee. The autarch wore green silks and a stark but shining gold coronet. Krystal was in somber greens, except for the dress braided vest. Her blade was her fighting blade, as always.

  I settled myself and looked toward Krystal. I did get a quick smile from her, and a quicker one from the autarch. Then both their faces grew stern as the bell sounded once again, and their heads and eyes turned to the back of the chamber. Kasee sat squarely in the high chair, and Krystal’s hand was on the hilt of her blade.

  “Arms,” said Nusert. The Finest slipped to attention.

  A single muted trumpet sounded, and the chamber doors opened.

  “The honorable Thurna, envoy to Duke Berfir of Hydlen.”

  Thurna, a broad-shouldered beefy man with ragged blond hair, marched up the green carpet, carrying a single scroll as if it were a naked blade. Three troopers in crimson followed.

  The Hydlenese guards stopped just before Nusert
, but Thurna went on to the bottom step to the dais. There, he bowed low before the autarch, so low that it was almost comical. “Your servant, Most Honored Autarch.”

  “You humble yourself too much, ser.” Kasee’s tone was dry.

  “I offer you only your due.” Thurna straightened. His eyes flicked toward Krystal.

  Krystal’s face remained impassive. She stood a half step forward and to the right of the autarch, as silent and as deadly looking as a well-used blade.

  Thurna finally looked in our direction. So did the three guards who stood back by Nusert.

  Thurna’s deep-set eyes studied Justen, Tamra, and me- and passed back to Kasee.

  “Your honored counselors?” he asked politely.

  “They are certainly counselors.” Kasee’s eyes twinkled. “Might I present to you the gray wizard Justen, the mage Tamra, and Lerris. Lerris is the youngest, as you may note, but his skills were, I believe, more than adequate at the brimstone spring.”

  One of the guards looked at me, and I looked back at him. He was a big fellow, a good half head taller than either Thuma or me. But I kept looking. That I could do, despite the discomfort in my leg. His eyes finally caught the staff, and he went pale, and his legs crumpled. He went forward like a statue, and all that metal clanged when he hit the carpet. I winced. The marble underneath that thin carpet was hard.

  “Autarch… I must protest-” the Hydlenese envoy began.

  “Your man will be fine,” Justen said. “I doubt he expected to see young Lerris again.”

  Envoy Thurna looked, apparently to see if the soldier was breathing, and then offered a faint and polite smile. “Such matters do occur.”

  “That is true,” said Kasee. “Like many young wizards, Lerris has a habit of overdoing things.”

  I had to hand it to Kasee. She was adept at using the tools at hand.

  “His Mightiness Duke Berfir would convey to you his deepest wishes for peace and tranquility along the borders.”

  “At least while he’s engaged with Duke Colaris?” asked Kasee.

  “Your Mightiness misinterprets the Duke’s desires.” Thurna bowed again.

  “I would certainly not wish to misinterpret his desires. Might you have a representation of those desires?”

  Thurna extended the scroll. Krystal stepped down and took it, opening it easily, handing it to Kasee, and stepping back.

  Everyone waited while Kasee read the document.

  “His Mightiness the Duke is most generous in his reparations. I regret that he lacked the understanding to avoid the need for such reparations.” Her eyes went to me, pointedly, before returning to Thuma.

  “I am certain that he understands that need now, Your Mightiness.”

  “We look forward to a time of continued understanding, ser, and we accept the Duke’s offer in the spirit in which it was offered. We trust the remainder of your stay in Kyphros will be pleasant and enlightening.” Kasee smiled and stood.

  Thurna bowed, and stepped back without turning.

  The big guard refused to look in my direction at all as Thurna backed out of the chamber, followed by his guards. Some of it seemed silly. Thurna couldn’t turn his back on the autarch, but his guards could? They weren’t considered important?

  The trumpet sounded once again.

  “The public audience is ended,” announced Nusert.

  The onlookers filed out, except for Liessa, and then the Finest departed. Almost as soon as the doors closed, Kasee got up and began to grin. She walked toward Tamra and me. “I thought I was going to laugh, especially after that guard looked at Lerris. Sweet Lerris-and he thought he’d seen the demons of light.”

  Justen looked at her with a wry grin.“He didn’t see the Lerris you see. He saw a madman with a staff who had turned a peaceful valley into a brimstone-spewing hell.”

  Behind Kasee, Krystal nodded, but she gave me a quick soft smile.

  “Well-” Kasee turned to Tamra. “You were right. It worked. All Thurna wants to do is to leave us alone-for now.”

  “For now,” pointed out Krystal. “Over the long run, he’ll want Berfir to destroy us, and the story will get out that you have three deadly wizards. Probably they’ll be claiming that Lerris killed that guard with a single look. Stories have a way of getting out of hand.” She looked at me. “Try not to believe them when you hear them.” The amusement in her voice had a slight edge, and I wondered why.

  “I know.” Kasee nodded in agreement. “But that is not all bad. We still needed to buy time.”

  “I hope the price wasn’t too high,” said Justen.

  “So do I,” added Liessa, a younger-looking version of her sister, with the same high cheekbones and dark hair, without the silver-gray.

  So did I. I needed to sit down, and I used the staff to clump over to one of the chairs along the wall, where I sank into the seat and stretched out the still-splinted left leg.

  “How does it feel?” asked Justen.

  Tamra was saying something to Krystal about the Viscount of Certis, and Kasee was listening, but my hearing was fading in and out again, and I didn’t catch much.

  “Uncomfortable. It twinges; it itches-”

  “That’s good.”

  “I know. It’s healing.”

  “It is healing. You figured it out, didn’t you?”

  “The order-chaos balance? Yes. I haven’t been able to do much except think.”

  “You should finish healing in another few eight-days, but don’t use too much order. The bones will knit better if you just use the order to encourage the regrowth. Don’t substitute order.”

  I had figured that out. I could have literally held the bones together with order, but if I got tired, they’d probably separate with much stress.

  “Why did you agree to come here?”

  “Tamra.” Justen laughed. “She bet me. I said that she’d never get you in grays.”

  I laughed. Some magic had nothing to do with order or chaos.

  XLII

  East of Lavah, Sligo [Candar]

  THE TWO MEN stand in the small room wanned by a fire comprised at least half of white-hot embers.

  “The Duke has not had time to employ the devices whose design you provided last season, Mage.” Begnula inclines his head politely.

  Sammel gestures at the scrolls on the table. “Knowledge is the key to his future.” He smiles. “Or someone’s.”

  “You are not suggesting that you would turn that knowledge over to the red demon? You presume too much.” Begnula takes a step forward, and his hand touches his blade.

  Sammel gestures with his index finger, and a ball of fire appears, then drifts toward Begnula. “Do I presume too much? How then shall I presume?” His eyes drift momentarily to the corner of the room where the wood, plaster, and floor planks are somewhat lighter colored.

  Begnula steps back. “Ser Mage…”

  “Do not tell me that knowledge is not important, Ser Begnula. Nor that it is not useful. I will have this knowledge”- Sammel gestures toward the scrolls-“spread throughout Candar and used. For too long, people in Candar have been kept in the dark.” He laughs gently, and lowers his hand. “Even now, the black mages would have this knowledge suppressed. If it is valuable enough to be suppressed by Recluce-then is it not of value?” He points to the tube weapon mounted on the wall. “Do you know what that is, Ser Begnula?”

  “Ah… no.” Begnula takes another step back, a deep breath, and wipes his forehead.

  “A pity. Definitely a pity. It is one of the tools by which Recluce has kept Candar in darkness.” Sammel turns back to face the envoy.

  “How did you… ?”

  “You might say it was presented to me, in a manner of speaking. Of course, it was supposed to depart with its presenter. A pity there, too, but these things do happen when one denies the value of knowledge-or tries to suppress it.”

  Begnula wipes his forehead again. “Ah… yes…”

  Sammel turns, bends, and eases another log int
o the fire on the hearth, where it bursts almost instantly into flame. Then he straightens and smiles again, waiting.

  “What… what knowledge do you offer the Duke now?” asks Begnula after a long pause.

  “A way to spy out his enemy’s positions nearly instantly, yet from a distance.”

  “In one device?”

  “It takes two, but one is very simple, merely a tube and two special pieces of clear and finely polished glass. The other takes silk or another fine-meshed fabric and wax. These are easier than the cannon. They will also make the cannon more useful.”

  “If these are so simple, why have they not been used before?”

  Sammel smiles. “Who ever said they had not been?”

  Begnula looks down.

  Sammel’s eyes flicker toward the door, glazing over as though his senses were elsewhere. Behind him, the light seems to glimmer on the polished steel of the rocket gun.

  XLIII

  BY THE TIME I could get around, even hobbling with the splint on my leg, my arm was healed enough for most woodworking. I finished the light polishing necessary for the autarch’s wardrobe. I should have completed that before I’d gone traipsing through the Lower Easthorns, but I hadn’t. My frailty reminded me of the need for coins, and I sent a message through Krystal before she departed on her inspection tour of Ruzor.

  Lo and behold, both a large wagon and a purse with twenty golds arrived, and the wardrobe disappeared in the direction of Kyphrien. I felt both better about the coins, and somehow guilty. So I went to work on completing the chairs for Hensil, which wasn’t all that hard. It took a little longer, but it was too cold to sit on the porch, and watch the rain fall, and that would have just been boring. Being so slow, knowing I could have done it faster, was boring too, but I was getting something done.

  For a while, using the foot treadle to turn spokes and shafts was out, even though my right leg was fine, because I couldn’t get the good leg on the treadle without bending the broken one, and the splint stopped that. Without the splint, I couldn’t move without reinjuring the leg. I could have rebuilt the treadle system, but I gave up on that, and concentrated on healing the leg, and on doing the woodwork that didn’t require turning. There was more than enough of that.