The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “You couldn’t tell Mureas that, I take it.”

  “Light-demons, no! We can’t even prove Kyldesee was the one who did it. But if Mureas weren’t her aunt, I wouldn’t have to.”

  “Mureas is important, of course.”

  “She is if we have to fight the war I think we’re going to have to fight.”

  “War? Which war? Berfir? The Viscount? Hamor?”

  “I think they’re all parts of the same war. Light! Recluce has made a mess out of Candar. And we’re the only ones who seem to see it or care.” She straightened her gold-braided vest. “Kasee wants to talk to us, mostly you, before the audience with the envoy from Hamor.”

  “Me?”

  “As I keep pointing out, you’re the only gray wizard she has left. And the only one she really trusts.” She bent forward and gave me a kiss. “We need to go.”

  “She doesn’t trust Justen?”

  “She doesn’t distrust him… but you do live here, and you don’t have this habit of vanishing. Even if you do have a hidden hero desire.”

  “I don’t like being a hero. It’s dangerous.”

  She raised her eyebrows as she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. “Herreld… it will be some time before I’m likely to return from the autarch’s audience. If someone has a real problem, tell them to see Weldein. If he can’t handle it, he can find someone who can.”

  “Weldein. Yes, Commander.”

  Krystal was moving before Herreld finished acknowledging her instructions, long legs carrying her down the dark-walled corridor toward the narrow stairs. I followed, almost running for a moment to catch up, and trying not to limp at the same time.

  Two more sets of guards snapped rigid as we passed before we entered the wide-windowed and tapestried hall outside the autarch’s study.

  The taller guard of the third pair of guards opened the door into the study, and closed it just as quickly once we were inside.

  “Greetings. We only have a little time before I must array myself for our honored guest.” Kasee set the pen in the holder and leaned forward across the overbalanced desk. Someday, when I felt truly brave, I was going to suggest she pay me to craft a decent replacement. So far, that day hadn’t come, and since she had ordered and paid for the wardrobe, I wasn’t about to hurry it.

  As usual when in private, the autarch’s black and silver hair was disarrayed, and the left side of her forehead was smudged with either ink or charcoal. I suspected her maids, valets, or whoever helped her dress for functions did a lot of despairing.

  “I asked you to come, Lerris, because you’ve had the closest contact with what happened in Hydlen, and because”-she shrugged-“somehow I felt that you could help. Also, we don’t know much about this envoy. The rumors are that he is an exile from Recluce, and that might be true, because he’s not the envoy that the Emperor just sent there.”

  “Isn’t it strange to send two envoys a quarter of the way around the globe?” asked Krystal.

  “Candar’s a big place,” pointed out Kasee.

  Perhaps, but it seemed to me that it was getting very crowded very quickly.

  “Then there’s the mess in Freetown…” added Krystal.

  “I thought Berfir and his rockets would roll over Colaris,” admitted Kasee, “especially once he could divert troops from the south. And he might have, but some long-range cannons have appeared, and a thing that carries an observation basket into the air to guide the cannon fire.” She picked up the pen and chewed on the end.

  “It sounds like a balloon of some sort, like in the old books.” I watched as a drop of ink landed on the blotter, amazed that it hadn’t hit her green silks.

  “Lately, Colaris’s troops have been using rifles,” the autarch added.

  “Rifles-but can’t some third-rate wizard ignite the powder?”

  “They’re using steel cartridges. They’re hard on the barrels, but it would take a first-rate wizard to set them off, and since each one is separately packed…”

  I got the picture. It was like combining miniature rockets with cannon, and it’s difficult to use a sword on troops who can kill you before you can reach them. “What about archers?”

  “A good archer’s probably as good as a soldier with a rifle, maybe a better shot, but it takes longer, a lot longer, to train an archer,” Krystal pointed out. “Also, you can carry a lot more cartridges than arrows.”

  “Did the rifles come from Hamor?”

  “Where else? They’re using steam-powered machines to make the cartridges.” Kasee looked at a scroll on the side of the desk. “That’s what the traders tell me, anyway.”

  “What about the balloon?”

  “That’s from the new wizard in Sligo. This Sammel’s not that far from Freetown and Montgren-or even Certis. All sorts of new ideas, all very neatly set out in ink, have been coming out. A lot of gold has gone into his coffers, and we know that some of these ideas have even gone to Hamor-such as some of the improvements to the cannon. The Empire did come up with cartridges themselves.”

  Krystal looked to me. “How can this happen? Why doesn’t chaos tear them apart?”

  I had to shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe, if you break ordered things into small enough pieces, like the cartridges, it’s harder for chaos to disrupt. Maybe good machining, like good woodwork, can hold chaos off. That ought to work in theory. But I really don’t know.” I was getting the beginning of a headache. Gerlis-one white wizard working for a second-rate duke-had been bad enough, but the picture I was getting was worse. Sammel had had some training in the basis of order and chaos.

  “How does this Sammel compare to Gerlis?” asked Kasee.

  “When I met him in Recluce, I wouldn’t have even guessed that he’d become involved with chaos. He looked more like a hermit, and his voice was thoughtful. He couldn’t handle edged weapons, either.” I shook my head. It was still hard to believe that Sammel was tied up with chaos. “But he probably understands the basics better.”

  “Sammel seemed to be the type who really believed in what he did,” added Krystal. “If he believes in what he is doing…” She spread her hands.

  “It will be worse than the Hydlen mess, you think?” asked the autarch.

  My consort and I both nodded slowly.

  “I thought you might say that.” Kasee straightened and stood. “I need to be made presentable. Krystal, why don’t you and Lerris go down to the audience room? Use the side door, and I’ll meet you there.”

  After she left, Krystal led the way through the back corridors I wouldn’t have even pretended to know. My night vision did keep me from stumbling as I followed the surefooted Krystal through the dim, but not dusty, passages.

  Once in the audience chamber, we sat on two stools behind a pillar.

  “Do you understand what she wants?” asked Krystal, glancing toward the dais and the empty green-upholstered chair.

  “For me to stand there and look interested, add what she wants added, and try to figure out what is really happening.”

  “Don’t try to figure anything out at the audience. Just try to feel whatever you can. You can sort it out later. I think your feelings are important.”

  “All right.” I grinned and squeezed her knee. “I’m glad you do.”

  She blushed slightly. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sometimes…”

  “Good!”

  At that point the door opened, sooner than I would have expected, and Kasee emerged, with hair in place and smudges removed.

  We walked to the dais, and Krystal stood to her right, slightly in front of her, while I was on the left. Kasee sat in the chair, waiting.

  The bell sounded and she straightened in the chair and looked at Krystal and then at me. “Here we go.”

  The double doors opened, and someone announced, “The Most Honorable D’ressn Leithrrse, envoy of His Imperial Highness Stesten of Hamor.”

  Leithrrse bowed once as he entered,- wal
ked forward, and bowed again at the steps below the dais. The Hamorian envoy was lighter-skinned than most Kyphrans, and could have stepped off the Feyn River plains. If he were from Hamor he hadn’t, but Hamor was home to ambitious exiles from the world over. The few Hamorians I’d seen were generally as dark as Kyphrans, but I supposed there were people of all complexions in any country.

  He also didn’t wear jewelry-just a plain tan tunic with a silver arrowhead at the collar, and tan trousers, with a silver-studded belt and a short sword and a pistol. The pistol bothered me, because it, like the envoy, was short and businesslike, though he wouldn’t have had the chance to use it, not with the two archers behind the slits in the walls flanking the dais, nor with Krystal standing there.

  “You bring tidings from the Emperor?” asked Kasee.

  “That I do, Honored Autarch.”

  “Pray tell us.”

  “The Emperor trusted we would find you in health and prosperity. He will be pleased to learn that you are indeed in health, and that your people are prosperous and well fed at a time when troubles have besieged many in Candar. And he sends his greetings and respects.”

  I had the feeling that Leithrrse had oiled his way to his present position, oozing charm from every pore as he made his way across every type of floor. He was the kind I disliked almost on sight.

  “We have worked hard, and we have been fortunate that our work has been rewarded some of the time. As the angels know, hard work is not always rewarded with prosperity.” Kasee smiled.

  “Prosperity comes more often to the righteous, and to those who work hard,” returned the Hamorian.

  “At times. At times, prosperity follows trade, and trade can often follow the swiftest sword, and it has been said that the swords of Hamor can be swift, indeed.”

  “The Emperor believes in peace and trade, and in trade that is peaceful. Much like the island of Recluce, you know, the Emperor is greatly interested in the peaceful expansion of trade…”

  Although I could not see Krystal’s face, Kasee nodded, and I waited for the barbs that would probably follow.

  “The Emperor believes that trade between countries is a benefit to all people. Because high customs levies stop trade, they can lead to conflict between countries that would otherwise be friendly. And then trade ceases or is no longer friendly. And all suffer.” The envoy paused.

  “I think that translates into a veiled request that I consider reducing the tariffs levied against Hamorian manufacturers.” Kasee smiled. “What about the Hamorian tariff against Kyphran fruit and olives, or against our southern linen? Does the Emperor propose reductions in his tariffs?”

  “You misunderstand, Honored Autarch. The Emperor merely has stated his beliefs about how trade should be improved. Hamor makes no requests of Kyphros. It would not be proper for him to presume to tell an equal how to rule.” Leithrrse gave a slight bow.

  “What do you think, Lerris?”

  I inclined my head, trying to look sage, although how anyone so young as I could look sage in the setting was beyond me. Still… I had to say something, and the fact that Kasee had dumped it on me was indication enough that she wanted confirmation of her statement.

  “Presumption comes in many forms, Honorable Leithrrse.” I paused and let my order senses touch him, recognizing that he had both order and disorder within him, twisted together in a way that would have caused exile or dangergeld in Recluce. “A statement that would seem innocent enough if uttered by a merchant may have a greater meaning if uttered by an envoy of a mighty ruler. A general word of caution may have the force of a threat.”

  Leithrrse inclined his head in the slightest, as if to dismiss me, before continuing. “Those of Recluce, they have fine words, and their ships do but prosper, especially in trade with Candar.” He smiled a charming smile at Kasee. “Yet is it not passing strange that Recluce has often cast out its best, like the mighty Dorrin and the gray wizard Justen?”

  At that point, with Kasee’s information and the veiled bitterness in his words, I knew, knew that he must be the Leith mentioned by the young woman I had met on the first day of my trip to Nylan years ago.

  “Strange?” mused Kasee. “I think not. A pearapple does not grow well on an olive limb.”

  “Nor a pearapple tree well in an olive grove.” Leithrrse bowed very deeply. “The Emperor would wish your olive groves well, for they endure unto the generations.”

  He bowed again, signifying, I thought, that he had said all he had to say.

  So I added my bit. “By the way, Leith, Shrezsan wishes you well.”

  He stood stock-still for an instant, only for an instant, before responding to Kasee, rather than to me. “And the Emperor would wish you well in the choice of the gardeners for your groves.”

  Kasee held back a smile, I thought, but answered solemnly, “And I wish him well, and we will send back with you a barrel of those olives that he appreciates so much.”

  “I am certain he will enjoy such olives, not only this year, but for many years to come.” Leithrrse bowed twice. “And I will convey your good wishes and the olives to him in the spirit in which they were offered.”

  Kasee rose. “I do so hope.” Then she waited until he backed down the green carpet, gave a last bow, and left the chamber.

  “Back to my study,” suggested Kasee.

  That was where we went, and there were, wonder of wonders, some crackers, cheeses, and dried fruit on a platter.

  “Please have some. It has been a long day.”

  I didn’t hesitate and was crunching my way through a small wedge of cheese and a cracker when Kasee raised her eyebrows.

  “What did that comment about Shrezsan mean, Lerris? For an instant, he wanted to kill you. If he were a chaos wizard, you would have been covered with firebolts.” Kasee shook her head.

  “I was fairly certain that I met a former love of his, years ago, when I first traveled to Nylan on my dangergeld. She asked me to say that if I ever met him.”

  “But how did you know he was the one?” asked Krystal.

  I looked at the autarch. “You said that he was an exile from Candar, and there aren’t that many. Most of them are pretty able, and the odds that he’d have the same name were slim.”

  “I still don’t see…”

  “It felt right.” I had to shrug. “And Krystal and you said I should follow my feelings.” Kasee laughed. “It certainly didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t have changed his message, and this way perhaps the Emperor will be more cautious.”

  “I doubt it.” Krystal shook her head.

  So did I.

  LV

  Nylan, Recluce

  MARIS BOWS DEEPLY, until his beard almost touches the council table, then hands the dispatch case to Heldra.“My fellow counselor, I bring you tidings of great import.”

  Heldra sets the case on the table without extracting the scroll inside. “Such great deference… such courtesy… such hypocrisy…”

  “All right. I’ll try it another way. What are you two going to do? The price of our wool in Summerdock has continued to drop,” Mans declares. “It’s the same way in Southport and in Biehl.”

  “Wool? Is that all?” Heldra’s response contains mixed tones of laughter and annoyance. “I thought we were meeting on the problem of Hamor.”

  “Wool? Is that all? Is that all?” Maris’s hand slams the table.

  Heldra stands, and her hand is on the hilt of her blade. “You forget yourself, Maris.”

  “I think you both have made Maris’s point,” rumbles Talryn as he motions Maris away from Heldra and the table.

  “What point? Trade isn’t exactly the reason for this Council.”

  “About wool and woolgathering, and about iron and steam, and care and carelessness.” Talryn pauses. “Maris is ready to risk getting spitted on your blade, Heldra, because wool is important to him, and to Recluce. You find wool far less of a concern than Hamor, but you’re both talking about the same problem.”

  Heldra and Ma
ris wait.

  “The Emperor has dispatched a second squadron of those iron-hulled monsters to Dellash.”

  “A second squadron?” Maris’s eyebrows lift. “What does that have to do with the price of wool?”

  “There was already a squadron there. That was one of the reasons why the price of your wool is falling. The Delaprans are buying Hamorian cloth; it’s cheaper.”

  “Of course it’s cheaper. They’ve got slaves to grow cotton in those hot deltas, and since that inventor came up with a carding machine…”

  “And since they’re using steam engines to run their looms,” finishes Talryn, “and steam to power their merchant ships, our wool is more expensive.”

  “Ours is better cloth.” Maris rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

  “The average peasant or clerk could care less. Cotton is less scratchy, and it’s cheaper, and for someone who doesn’t have much coin…” Talryn shrugs.

  “And I suppose the warships are there as a gesture of good faith?” snaps Heldra. “Or just to drive the price of our wool down?”

  Talryn laughs, a short, rumbling bark. “They flattened the old lighthouse off Summerdock with three shells from their new guns.”

  “Rignelgio’s visit makes more sense in that light,” says Heldra. “It’s more than wool or trade.”

  “Of course, dear Heldra,” murmurs Maris.

  “He was probably surprised that we didn’t know, or felt we were insufferably arrogant,” Talryn says quickly.

  “Gunnar appears to have been right,” ventures Maris.

  “Wool… and Gunnar… Gunnar.” Heldra stands and walks toward the window overlooking the Eastern Ocean, a bright blue-green that foreshadows the coming spring.“Are we never to be free of his heavy hand?”

  “I’m more worried about Hamor’s heavy hand right now.” Talryn leans forward and puts both hands on the back of the heavy black wooden chair. “It would take us years to match what the Emperor has sent to Candar.”

  “I still think the mighty trio could sink most of those squadrons,” points out Heldra.