I waited.
“That’s all there is, Lerris. Just three stories.”
“The first one is the story of the Founders.”
“Creslin, actually.”
“And the second one is Dorrin, I’d guess. I didn’t know that he created such destruction.”
“He did, but it wasn’t as instantaneous or as direct. He just changed the world with his steam-chaos engines. And people always suffer more in times of change.”
“You seem to be saying that people who try to do great deeds create disaster.”
“I have noticed that the two appear to go hand in hand.”
“You must be the third.”
“The names aren’t the point.” Justen shrugged. “The point is that when great deeds occur-either planned or unplanned- the whole world suffers. I have a certain aversion to great deeds.” He offered a sardonic smile.
“I am not exactly fond of them.”
“No-but you’re the most dangerous type of all. You would do anything for love, and you love Krystal. The angels save us all.” He stood. “Keep that in mind.”
“You can stay tonight,” I offered.
“No. We need to pack up things.” Justen grinned. “Especially Tamra.”
I walked out to the stable with him. Tamra gave me a look that was almost a glare. As for Justen, there was no “almost” involved.
He ignored it and looked at Tamra. “Time to go.”
She glanced at me and shook her head. I shrugged, and then watched them ride into the evening rain.
After I climbed into a cold bed, wishing Krystal were there, Justen’s-and Tamra’s-comments about my parents drifted into my thoughts. A letter wouldn’t hurt. I could stay angry forever, but they were still my parents, and they had done what they thought best.
Recluce-and the Brotherhood-that was another matter.
XLIV
Nylan, Recluce
THE MAN IN the tan uniform bows and remains standing before the curved black wood table. His wide brown leather belt bears only a short blade on the left, a small purse, and a lighter-colored patch of leather on the right, where a scabbard would rest for a cross-drawn left-handed blade.
Just inside the door the two soldiers in tan, with the orange starburst on their right shoulders, remain motionless.
“Welcome, Ser Rignelgio.” The silver-haired Talryn gestures to the chair. “Would you have a seat?”
“I may not be here that long.” Rignelgio offers a self-deprecating smile.
“You asked to see us?” asks Heldra.
“That is correct, Ser Heldra.” The envoy shifts his weight on the hard black oak to face the three councilors.
The sound of the high surf ebbs and fades, ebbs and fades. Maris glances at the open window to the south, then back to the Hamorian envoy.
“The Emperor has become more and more concerned about the continuing lack of stability in Candar of late…”
“As are we,” offers Talryn.
“But not, we believe, for precisely the same reason.”
“Oh?” Heldra inclines her head.
“Some have led the Emperor to believe that Recluce has come to foster disorder as a means to increase its own order. The Emperor would like to believe that such a charge is baseless. He would also dearly like to believe that Recluce has merely confined its attentions to its own lands and that the chaos that has developed in Candar is without the interest and blessing of Recluce.” Rignelgio holds up a hand, as if in apology. “You understand, I am the mere messenger of such concerns.”
“We do understand your position as a messenger, Ser Rignelgio,” answers Talryn smoothly.
Under the edge of the tabletop, Maris rubs his thumb and forefinger together. His other hand strokes his beard for a moment, even as his eyes stray to the two soldiers in the functional tan cotton uniforms.
“Then you can also understand why I might have some concerns about not being understood.”
Heldra and Talryn nod.
“Understanding is often only the first step.” Talryn’s low voice almost rumbles. “Even when two parties understand what is, they may not agree upon the meaning of that understanding.”
“Yes, there is that. Perhaps that is not necessarily so great a barrier, however. At times a course of action can be agreed upon without a sharing of understandings or motivations. The Emperor would be most pleased if the amount of untoward chaos in Candar were to decline.” Rignelgio smiles politely.
“Untoward chaos-that is an interesting term,” says Maris. “Might there be such a thing as ‘toward chaos’?”
“Probably not, which is why we might reach an understanding.”
“What sort of understanding?” Heldra’s voice is diffident, almost detached.
“Why… you are the wizards of the black isle. Understanding I must needs leave to you. I can only say that the Emperor, like you, is most interested in the enhancement of order, throughout the world, but particularly in Candar. He is most concerned, and he wished you to know that.” Rignelgio smiles and rises. “I said I would not be long.”
“A moment, Ser Rignelgio,” says Heldra. “You have expressed the Emperor’s concerns, but you have failed to suggest what might allay those concerns.”
“Hamor has always been interested in free and open trade, and disorder hinders such trade.” The envoy bows. “As I said before, I would not presume to suggest specific actions.”
“I would presume,” says Maris coldly, ignoring the sidelong glance from Talryn. “You hint, and you bow, and you talk about open trade. In my experience, Hamor’s ‘open trade’ means open only to Hamor, with restrictions on Recluce or Austra. Are you telling us that Hamor intends to make Candar a trade colony and not to interfere?”
The smile leaves Rignelgio’s face, and his expression is blank as he replies. “As I indicated earlier, the Emperor has expressed his concerns. I would not presume to go beyond my charter in conveying those concerns.” He bows stiffly.
“We appreciate your concerns about exceeding your charter, and your diplomacy,” acknowledges Talryn, rising in turn. He is followed by Maris and Heldra.
“And I yours.” Rignelgio’s voice remains cool.
The soldiers by the door stiffen as the envoy turns.
After Rignelgio has left, Heldra reseats herself and looks at Maris.“Was that called for?”
The trader walks to the window, looking down at Nylan. “Yes. I can’t play word games.”
“Well… that was interesting,” reflects Talryn. “I suspect something more than the usual is going on. Rignelgio clearly didn’t want to deliver an ultimatum, and someone wanted him to.”
“The Emperor?” asked Heldra.
“Telling us to please stop meddling in Candar?” suggests Maris. “We’re supposed to let Hamor take over control of all trade.”
“I didn’t get much hint of a request there,” rumbles Talryn. “I think we’d better look more closely into how the Emperor plans to accomplish this. Rignelgio isn’t at all comfortable with his position, and that could mean trouble.”
“We can’t afford to knuckle under to him,” says Heldra. “I won’t knuckle under.”
“Your attitude and your blade, even your squad of marines, can’t stop the changes in the world,” observes Talryn. “Or the entire Hamorian fleet.”
“The old values are important,” responds Heldra. “If they aren’t, why are we here? Are we just supposed to be facilitators of trade?”
“Don’t sneer at it, Heldra,” replies Marts. “Trade pays the bills.”
“You both have good points,” interjects Talryn. “We do need to remember that the Brotherhood doesn’t exactly have the world’s largest standing army, and, even with our armed merchant ships, Hamor’s fleet greatly outnumbers ours.”
“Most of them half a globe away.”
“They won’t stay that far away.” Maris rubs his thumb and forefinger together.
Talryn nods. “Perhaps not.”
“Traders…” mumbles Heldra, mostly under her breath.
Maris and Talryn exchange glances.
XLV
THREE MORNINGS AFTER Justen and Tamra left, I took off the splint. It didn’t hurt, but I could feel the weakness of the muscles, and only time and effort would cure that. Then I went back to work on finishing Werfel’s desk. Of course, the glue in the pot had hardened. That meant chipping it out and using a mortar and pestle to powder it for a base for a fresh batch.
When I carried the pot into the kitchen, trying not to limp, Rissa looked up from slicing various vegetables.
“More of the awful-smelling glue, Master Lerris?”
“More of the awful-smelling glue, Rissa.”
“Dinner, it should not carry the odor of animals’ hoofs.”
“I do need it for the desk I am working on.”
“You have a hearth.” Rissa sniffed.
“It’s hard to heat this properly near a fire. A stove works better.” I changed the subject. “What’s for dinner?”
“A mutton-spice stew.”
I nodded. Rissa’s spiced stews were hot enough to make me forget the taste of mutton, but she wasn’t through talking.
“I was talking to Verillya at the market, and she has to cook for Hunsis. He has the hauling yard-the big one off the west highway before you pass the mill road. You know, Master Lerris, you ought to talk to Hunsis. His woman-that’s Freka, and she is the one who Verillya really works for-she, I mean Freka, likes fine furniture, and Hunsis certainly brings in enough coins. His wagons run all the way to Sarronnyn now that folks can take the old direct roads, thanks to you…”
As she talked, Rissa kept chopping vegetables and potatoes into the big pot, her fingers almost as quick and deft as Krystal’s-almost.
“That is a thought, Rissa. Except I’m having trouble finishing the work I have now.”
“Of course it is a thought. But you should get some help- an apprentice. And you might have more time if you did not travel over and through the mountains…”
“I also might not have a consort, and I might have a very unhappy autarch. But I could use an apprentice.”
“There, there is a point. I will talk to Freka at the market about an apprentice for you.” She paused. “And you should not try to be a hero. If you are both heroes…” Rissa stopped chopping. “I will talk all morning, and then you will not get any woodworking done.”
“Thank you.” I left the pot on the corner of the stove to heat. With Rissa talking about an apprentice, I had no doubts youngsters would start showing up. I worried more about the hero comments. Did I have some sort of sign on me that said I was trying to be a hero? Heroes got killed, in the end. I hoped Krystal didn’t want to be one, either.
Back in the shop, I began smoothing the drawer fronts, forcing myself to take my time. I added a log to the coals on the hearth, trying to keep the temperature even, and poured some water into the old iron pot on the hook over the coals. That was another one of those things Uncle Sardit had taught me. Wood works better if the air has some moisture in it.
Wondering didn’t create desks, or chairs, and I took the smoothing blade in hand and went back over the front of the top drawer, careful not to nick the edges where the grain can splinter. I had gotten to working on the second drawer’s front piece when Rissa banged on the door.
“Master Lerris, your glue’s a - bubbling, and I don’t want the dinner to smell like glue.”
After setting aside the smoother, I reclaimed the glue from the kitchen and put it on the smaller hearth hook, folded nearly against the side bricks, just so that the fire would keep the pot warm while I brushed the glue over the pegs and eased the top into place.
Then, while it set, because Gairloch needed exercise, and I wanted to see how the leg did riding, I curried Gairloch. I’d told Rissa I’d ride out the west road to Brene’s-less than three kays-for some eggs.
“Now, Master Lerris… no more than a copper for the eggs. Brene, she has more eggs than she could ever do with, and that’s lucky for us, having no chickens of our own.” Rissa looked out toward the stable. “If we had chickens…”
“No chickens.”
“Brene will be pleased to see you, and then she’ll look poor and won’t take your coppers until you have to force them on her, and that’s how she always gets more.”
I nodded as I half fastened my jacket and edged back out to the yard where Gairloch’s breath steamed in the chill.
“No more than a copper, Master Lerris… mind you.”
“Yes, Rissa.”
Whuuuffff… was Gairloch’s only comment.
The cold air felt refreshing, and I let Gairloch take his own pace as we headed west. Despite the chill, I could see chickens everywhere once I turned Gairloch onto the drive that led to the small house. Chickens perched on the rail fence that surrounded the hog pen. Although some of the rails had but one end in place, the hogs seemed to be confined to the pen. Then again, maybe some had left. The smart ones?
Another flurry of chickens scurried away from Gairloch as I reined up outside the weathered plank-sided house.
Whufff…uffff…
“I know. I don’t like them much either, except to eat.”
The door opened, and Brene waddled out. “Master Lerris! I’d be guessing that you came for some eggs for Rissa. Kind of you to fetch eggs for your own cook, but that’s what makes the world turn. Kindness, that is, and a poor place the world would be.” She lifted an empty basket. “I’ll be just a moment. Wouldn’t be wanting to send you off without the freshest eggs…”
She waddled toward the low chicken coop, the gaps between the rough-cut boards filled with what appeared to be a moss - and - mud mixture. The boards had to have been sawmill rejects, but chickens didn’t care, I supposed.
I climbed off Gairloch and tied him to a slanting post that propped up one corner of the sagging porch.
“… just let Mother Brene… don’t need all those eggs anyway… more than enough chickens here…
… awwkkkk… awkkk…
I grinned, glad Brene had the chickens and I didn’t.
Before long, the portly figure in the mismatched leathers and woolens, sprinkled with feathers and fragments of feathers, waddled back from the coop and presented me with a basket filled with eggs.
“Thank you.” I took the basket and set it on the porch next to the beam to which Gairloch was tethered. “They’re large.”
“Good hens I’ve got, maybe the best west of the city. You know, you have to talk to them, helps them get into laying…”
I extended a copper.
“What? No… we do fine, and I’d scarcely be a neighbor if I took your coins, with all and what you’ve done for everyone. Master Lerris.”
I held back a grin. “If you don’t have some coppers to buy feed for the chickens, then you won’t have eggs to share. It’s little enough, but you’d do me the pleasure of taking a small token at least-for the chickens, anyway.” I felt that, so long as she had chickens, I wouldn’t have to have any.
“No… I couldn’t, not being a neighbor.”
I shook my head. “Being your neighbor, I have to insist. It’s a pittance for such fine eggs, and they are fine eggs.”
“Aye… well, I do say they’re good eggs.”
“That they are.” I put the copper in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “Have you heard from Kertis?”
“Oh, such a lad. He’s working hard in the warehouse there in Ruzor. Bursa came back last eight-day to tell me. Bursa travels the Ruzor road for Rinstel. Kertis sent a shawl with Bursa, a warm black one.” Brene smiled. “Bursa says that afore long Kertis will be traveling with him, maybe to Vergren on the wool-buying… almost as good as the wool from the black island… what Kertis says…”
“I’m glad he’s doing well.”
“Aye, and I am, too. Never meant to be a holder, the lad, likes the city too much, and the sea’s in his blood, just like his father.”
I untied Gairloch and picked up the basket. “What about the basket?”
“You just bring it back next time, or have Rissa do it.”
“We’ll bring it back.” Of course, Rissa or I would have to bring it back with something in it-a loaf of special bread or something.
“Take care, Master Lerris. Tell Rissa that Kertis misses her black bread. There’s nothing like it in Ruzor. Don’t you be forgetting that.”
“I won’t.” I had to mount carefully, because of the basket and my leg.
Brene stood in front of the sagging porch until Gairloch turned back north on the main road. The trip home was warmer, or seemed so, because the wind was at my back.
When I reined up outside the stable, I had to hold on to the saddle for a moment after I dismounted. The leg was fine, but I could tell my thigh muscles hadn’t been quite ready for a long ride, although Gairloch and I had certainly taken it easy on the way back. I didn’t want to break the eggs in the basket-and we hadn’t.
After setting the basket on the stall wall, I unsaddled Gairloch.
Wheee… eeee.
“Not enough exercise…”
I fed him a grain cake, but he ate it in three bites, as if it were only his due. He didn’t complain when I left, though, and I picked up the basket and carried it across the yard and into the kitchen. “Here are the eggs.”
“Thank ye, Master Lerris. If you’d set them on the table…” Rissa did not turn from the bowls and flour before her.
“I only gave Brene a copper. Kertis sent word through Bursa. She says that Kertis misses your black bread. There’s nothing like it in Ruzor.”
The Death of Chaos Page 25