“Sorry. I was trying to seek out order sources.”
“That was obvious,” she said.
“I said I was sorry,” I snapped back.
“I think you need to eat,” suggested my consort, and she was right, even if she needed nourishment as much as I did.
Early as it was, dock workers and sailors were on the streets of the lower harbor. A horse-drawn wagon creaked down the center of the street toward the public pier where a single Sarronnese trader lay tied up.
“I am hungry,” I confessed. “Something must be open early.”
“I hope so.” Krystal’s stomach growled, almost as mine did. “Why did you want to leave so early?”
I shrugged. “My father said we had to meet the Council at noon, and after that… I just don’t know. I wanted to spend some time here with you.”
A porter with a hand truck jumped off the wagon that had stopped in front of the dry-goods store, and we slowed for a moment, then dodged around him. A shadow fell across the street, then passed, cast by a small and fast-moving cloud. Out in the harbor small whitecaps tipped the short, choppy waves.
The strangest feeling swept over me. All the buildings, solid black stone and all, somehow seemed lopsided, as if they were tilting toward me and about to fall. I blinked several times, trying to rein in the sense of order-chaos imbalance. Krystal gripped my hand, and we looked at each other.
“Do you feel that?” I asked.
“Like everything is off balance?”
I nodded.
“Maybe we can eat there-and sit down.” Krystal pointed to the sign with a black waterspout.
The public room was empty, but a single serving girl smiled and pointed to a corner table. As I walked past the first tables, I saw an antique Capture board lying on the empty corner table. There were boards as old in the chest at my parents‘, but, outside of a few games with Aunt Elisabet as a child, I’d never played.
I waved to the serving girl in a red cap, and she scurried over.
“Do you have any fresh bread and heavy conserves?” asked Krystal. “And some hot cider?”
“Might as we could manage that. And you?” the server asked me.
“I’d like the same, but with sausage.”
“That’ll be five, ser.”
The serving woman returned with two steaming mugs, setting them down in turn with muted thumps on the dark wood table. Krystal took the mug, sniffing it and letting the steam surround her face before taking a sip.
A steaming loaf of orangish bread and a cherry conserve arrived before either of us had taken more than a sip of the cider.
“Be a moment more for the sausage, ser.”
“Fine.” I turned to Krystal. “Go ahead. The bread’s warm.”
“You can have some of that, too,” she pointed out.
So she did, and I did, and the sausage and another loaf of the orange bread arrived as we were finishing her loaf.
Then I dug into the sausage, a huge, dark, and spicy cylinder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a bite?” I mumbled.
Krystal finished a mouthful of bread and conserve. “A bite. Just a bite.”
When we looked up at each other from the empty plates, I grinned at Krystal. “You weren’t that hungry?”
She laughed.
I left six coppers on the table, and we walked out into the sunlight.
“Where are we going?”
“Where we’ve been before.” I tugged her hand, and she followed me until we came to the harbor. I looked up and down until I saw the supply store, the one with its name in three scripts-Temple, Nordlan, and Hamorian. Then I started walking.
I could sense Krystal’s amusement by the time we sat on the harbor wall by the fourth pier and opposite the store. The pier was empty, but the last time we had been seated there, I recalled, there had been a single small sloop tied up. Krystal’s hair had been long and tied up with silver cords, and I had just bought her the blade she still wore.
“We were sitting here, and I asked, ‘What will you do?’ And you didn’t answer me. Then, right over there a boy and a girl ran, and she was carrying some model of his, but she gave it back.”
Krystal smiled. “You said that they were like us, but you didn’t know why.”
“And you didn’t agree.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I didn’t say anything. I was afraid to agree or disagree.”
“Now?” I asked.
“I think you were right. We’re still here, and we still don’t know what will happen.”
“Except that we’re going to meet with the Council.”
“Are you worried? You don’t feel that way,” she mused.
“Not about the Council. If they had to request that we return, that’s really an admission that we don’t have anything to fear from them. Hamor, now that’s another story.” I felt a chill, and shivered, not sure whether it was my chill or Krystal’s. I looked into her black eyes.
“Mine,” she admitted, taking my hand again. “I still worry about the Council. I don’t think they’re honest, at least not with themselves.”
I just waited.
“They sent out Isolde. You remember her?”
I remembered Isolde, and her blade, and the way in which she had dismembered Duke Halloric’s champion-and the fact that the Duke had been assassinated shortly thereafter.
“Then they killed the Hamorian regents, and destroyed some ships with the invisible black ships. And they didn’t want us on those ships, even if it meant the difference in whether we could help. How long have they been playing this hidden game?” The fingers of Krystal’s right hand tightened around the corner of the wall where we sat.
“Ever since Justen destroyed Frven, I think. Before that, Recluce paraded its power.”
“I don’t like sneaks.”
There was that. Somehow the straightforward honesty of people like Creslin and Dorrin and Justen had been lost. Or maybe it had always been that way, and the straightforward people had always been few. Was that why my father had founded the Institute?
I frowned. Had dealing with power made me more cautious? Was that the inevitable road to corruption? Was I losing my own directness?
“Don’t. Please don’t.” Krystal squeezed my hand.
For a while, we sat on the wall and watched the people come and go, but no young dangergelders walked our way, and no children with model boats, and the light wind brought only the smells of the shops and the harbor, not of the past.
And beneath even Recluce, I could sense the unrest, the growling growth of the chaos I knew I must harness before long.
Krystal tightened her lips, and squeezed my hand.
When we finally walked back uphill away from the harbor, it almost seemed as if we had left another part of our younger selves behind.
CXXIV
The Great North Bay, Freetown [Candar]
FROM THE GREAT North Bay steam the ships, smoke plumes rising at an angle into the morning sun, the smoke white against the blue-green of the sky above the Eastern Ocean.
On each ship, each of the three gray steel turrets is aligned fore and aft, the two forward turrets aimed along the course ahead, the rear at the wake behind. Although each turret holds but a single cannon, the diameter of each is two spans, enough to throw a five-stone shell more than five kays, or a ten-stone shell not quite half that distance.
Beneath the iron decks, the polished shells are racked and ready, and the sailors hum, or sing. Some look nervously in the direction of Recluce. Others look down, but most go about then-daily routines.
Only the faintest touch of white graces the low waves as the Grand Fleet steams eastward.
In the stateroom reserved for the grand commander, Marshal Dyrsse carefully pours the pale amber wine into two goblets, then offers the tray on which they rest to the fleet commander.
“To success.” The fleet commander takes a goblet and raises it.
“To the success of the Emperor,” respond
s Dyrsse. “And to duty.”
Both sip.
“Ah, you would deny yourself success?” asks Stupelltry.
“I succeed when the Emperor does. And we have both waited long for this time, for the time to put the black isle in its place.” Dyrsse takes another sip of the amber vintage.“Duty is more important than success. With luck, anyone can succeed. Not everyone can complete his duties.”
“In success, we accomplish our duty.” Stupelltry takes another sip of wine.
Dyrsse frowns ever so slightly, but drinks.
In the west, the faintest of clouds begin to gather, while beneath Candar and beneath the iron backbone of Recluce, the deeps tremble.
CXXV
I BRUSHED MY grays a last time, and Krystal pulled on the braided vest.
“Do we look impressive enough?” I asked, glancing around the small oak-paneled room and the two single beds we had pulled together side by side. While I could not see the harbor from the window, I could sense that two of the Brotherhood’s ships had pulled into the port since our breakfast and morning tour of the harbor, and that some considerable activity surrounded them.
“You look impressive. I don’t know about me.”
“You’re the one who looks impressive.”
“You’re obviously in love.”
“I wouldn’t deny it.” I hugged her gently, not wanting to dishevel her. “I suppose I should bring my staff.”
“I suppose you should. Tamra will.”
We stepped into the corridor and walked down the hall and down the stairs to the foyer. Everyone was there, except Justen and Dayala.
“As usual,” muttered my father, “Justen runs on his own schedule.”
“Don’t get excited, dear,” my mother said. “I think he’s coming down the stairs now.”
Justen, like me and Tamra, wore grays, and a look of disgust. Dayala remained barefoot in the soft brown clothes she always wore.
“Before we’re off to see the mighty Council, we need to confer,” said Justen.
“We need to agree on a rough plan,” my father concurred, looking at me as Justen did.
My thoughts were rough, indeed, but I offered what I had. “There’s a great deal of elemental, or near elemental chaos, beneath the Gulf, and the iron runs from the inland ranges in a line out under the Gulf. The water’s relatively shallow there… from what I can sense.”
“Only about fifty to seventy cubits until you get several kays offshore,” added Justen, “and then it runs around a hundred fifty and drops off gradually.”
“If you”-I looked at my father-“and Tamra can call up the storms, and Justen can bring in as much order as possible, I think I can direct that chaos in order-tubes, as Justen did in the Easthorns, up under the Hamorian ships.”
Tamra looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded.
“But we’ll need a place where we can see.”
“There’s a flat space on the cliffs near the west end of the wall,” suggested Aunt Elisabet. “You can see the Gulf and the harbor.”
“Rather rough, I’d say,” observed Justen, “but there’s not much strategy involved here. Anything else?”
I couldn’t think of anything, except now that I’d spoken I just hoped I could deliver that chaos as planned.
Getting to the Council chamber involved walking perhaps three hundred cubits eastward through the emerald-green lawns and along the stone walks Krystal, Tamra, and I had left more than three years earlier.
A few about - to - be - dangergelders sat on benches or walls.
“Darkness! One of the big mages, the fellow in black…”
“Are the ones in gray… are they gray wizards?”
“The blade-she’s some high officer…”
I glanced at Krystal. “You look impressive.”
“Only to the impressionable.”
I could sense she was slightly pleased, and so was I.
The waiting room outside the Council chamber was large enough for all of us, with some room to spare. A young man and woman in black stood by the closed double doors.
My father walked up to them. “I am Gunnar, from the Institute, and we had a meeting scheduled with the Council.”
“Let me see if they’re ready for you.” The man slipped inside the door, only to return almost immediately. “The Council will see you now,” he announced with a smile, holding the door open.
The woman offered Tamra a tentative smile.
My mother, Elisabet, Sardit, and the guards remained in the waiting area, although Weldein’s hand seemed to stray to the hilt of his blade. Tamra raised a single eyebrow, and he took a deep breath.
I let Justen and my father lead the way, and I lugged my staff along, as did Tamra. The room was large enough, but somehow seemed confined, despite the windows overlooking the Eastern Ocean and the high ceilings. Every item in the Council Room seemed dark-black tables, dark gray stone floors, immaculately polished, and even black frames on the pictures of the silver-haired man and red-haired woman on the wall behind the council table.
The Founders looked sad, somehow, I decided, for all of their handsome and clean features. The painter had captured a darkness behind Creslin’s eyes, perhaps because the picture had been done in the long years when Creslin was blind, perhaps not.
My father gave the slightest of nods to the three behind the table, who had stood as we entered and remained standing.
My father straightened. “You know me, and this is Justen, of whom I’m sure you have heard much. This is Dayala, representing the druids of Naclos. You may recall Tamra, Krystal, and my son Lerris.”
“The Council has invited your assistance, Masters Gunnar and Justen, and that of Tamra and Lerris. I am Heldra.” The thin-faced woman nodded to the others who sat behind the table. “This is Maris, the Council’s representative from the traders, and Talryn, who represents the Brotherhood.”
I knew Talryn, impossibly broad-shouldered and short and stocky, but he wore black instead of the gray I had last seen him wearing. Maris was thin like Heldra, but sported a squared-off beard that he fingered as he nodded.
“We appreciate the assistance of the Great Forest,” responded Heldra, her eyes on Dayala.
“Thank you,” the druid answered quietly.
“Lerris looks somewhat… more mature,” observed Talryn.
“The results of my efforts to slow Hamor,” I said.
Talryn frowned, and I had a sense of his order probing, but that probe seemed tentative, almost weak. I smiled politely, and Krystal’s wry amusement bubbled up around me.
“You seem to have brought a few others beyond the scope of the invitation,” Heldra said.
“We did.” My father offered the words with a smile.
“They were not… invited…”
After begging for help, for the Council to quibble… Krystal nudged me gently, and I bit back the words.
“Sers,” said Justen easily. “With the exception of Gunnar, I know of no one in our group who has any intention of remaining on Recluce after the situation is dealt with. Commander Krystal is on leave, with the permission of the autarch, and Dayala and I will certainly not remain long here, nor will the small guard that accompanied Lerris and Krystal, and Tamra.”
“Lerris and Krystal?” asked Maris, still fingering his beard.
“Although Krystal is the commander of the Finest, the autarch also has some regard for Lerris, for those talents that you have previously noted, and for Tamra.”
“That seems to be settled,” rumbled Talryn, “although I doubt that it ever need have been raised.” His glance at Heldra would have removed old finish from any piece of furniture. Had I misjudged him?
“I only spoke for our heritage,” said Heldra evenly.
“We won’t have any demon-damned heritage, Heldra, if they can’t help,” snapped Maris.
“That is one way of putting it.” Heldra inclined her head and smiled toward Maris.
“Your time will come,” said Maris po
litely. “Even the Founders’ did, and they had a lot more to offer than you.”
“The business at hand is Hamor,” said Talryn, “and what aid Gunnar and his group will be able to offer us.”
“It is not a question of help,” my father said slowly, “as we all know. If we cannot stop Hamor, neither can the Brotherhood, and Nylan will be destroyed, and Recluce will fall.”
“What are you going to do with the Brotherhood troops and the marines?” asked Justen.
“Have them ready to repulse any invaders, of course,” snapped Heldra, straightening. “Any threat to Recluce.”
“Where?”
Talryn’s abrupt gesture cut off Heldra’s response before she uttered a word. “You have some concerns, Justen?”
“You can do as you wish. You are the Council. I might point out,” said Justen levelly, “that the Hamorian fleet will probably attempt to drop enough of their cannon shells on Nylan to turn it into finely powdered black gravel. It might be wiser to evacuate the city and marshal the troops where they would not be so obvious a target.” He bowed his head politely for an instant.
“Evacuate Nylan? That has never been contemplated.”
“It should have been,” suggested Talryn, “but that is our worry, and not the reason for this meeting.” His eyes blazed at Heldra for a moment, but the thin-faced woman ignored his glance. “We have learned that the Hamorian fleet left the Great North Bay this morning.”
“They could be here as early as tomorrow,” added Maris. “They’re steaming quickly.”
“Might I ask exactly what plans you have?” asked Heldra, her voice dripping honey. “Justen? Gunnar?”
“You could ask,” Justen said almost as politely as Heldra, “but that must remain with us.”
“I had hoped…”
“I’m sure you did,” added my father. “But you can rest assured that we would not have removed ourselves from the relative safety of Kyphros to Recluce without some thought of success.”
I wasn’t so sure about that thought of success, but I just nodded, my senses still tied in a shadowy way to the order beneath Recluce.
Grrrrruurrrrr…
Loud as that disruption felt to me, no one, besides Krystal, even seemed to feel it. Were their perceptions elsewhere, or was I becoming more sensitized?
The Death of Chaos Page 64