The Order War

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Not here. Not anymore.” Justen tried not to yawn, but the stifled yawn hurt all the same. Tap… “Is Justen going to be all right?” Elisabet peered into the room.

  “He’ll be fine,” snorted Gunnar. “The rest of us may not survive his engineering, but he’ll be just fine.”

  Elisabet stepped just inside the doorway. “What he did was really neat, Gunnar. You could see-I didn’t look, Jus-ten, I meant I saw with my senses-the rays of order coming from the fire-eye and hitting that iron plate, and it was like a huge storm building. I ducked and dragged Dad down, but Mom wasn’t quick enough. She’s lucky she wasn’t hurt worse.”

  “She was,” said Gunnar sourly. “Justen healed her. That’s why he’s a mess.”

  “So everyone’s all right except Justen, and he will be. Why are you so upset?” Elisabet’s fine eyebrows drew together for a moment.

  “Because…”

  “Is it because Justen’s getting to be a good all-around wizard like you?”

  “Elisabet, that’s not fair to Gunnar.”

  “All right.” She turned to face Gunnar. “I’m not grown up yet, and no one really listens to me. But I think Justen’s right. People here on Recluce just can’t keep saying that what the Whites do doesn’t matter because they can’t hurt us. What happens when they get powerful enough so they can? Then how many people will be killed? Or won’t it matter, because everyone who’s alive now figures he’ll be dead then?”

  “It’s not something that will happen soon,” Gunnar pointed out.

  “Oh, you don’t think Creslin should have changed the weather and made a refuge for order, then, because the Whites had killed only a few people?” Elisabet stared at Gunnar.

  Justen grinned as he lay there.

  “You’ve been listening to Justen again.”

  “What if I have? If you won’t go to Candar with him, I will. I can do everything he needs. Then you can sit at home and claim that whatever happens wasn’t your fault. I hate you!” Elisabet glared at Gunnar.

  “But…” Gunnar protested.

  “Justen had to go to Candar before you’d think about it-”

  “I never said I wasn’t going with him. I did say that he was going to kill everyone around him if he weren’t more careful.” The door opened and shut with a dull thud. The three looked at their father.

  “This has got to stop.” Horas delivered each word with the force of an ax. “You three are arguing as if nothing happened today. Like schoolchildren. As if upsetting all of nature and blotting out the sun is just some… magisters learning tool. Justen almost killed all of us, and then himself.”

  Gunnar looked at his brother. Justen tried to repress a grin, a grin he didn’t quite understand.

  “What are you grinning at? This isn’t a game, son. You think I don’t know, but you almost killed your mother, and then healed her before you thought she knew. That was dangerous, and it was dishonest. You have the right to risk your own life. You don’t have the right to risk hers.”

  “It seems that everyone has figured that out,” admitted Justen wryly. He tried to shift his weight, but his ribs twinged again.

  “What happens when you kill someone outright?”

  Justen took a deep breath. “Just before you came in, Gunnar was telling me that I was going to kill everyone around me if I weren’t more careful.”

  “He’s right. Just when are you going to stop this foolishness?”

  “I’m done with the experiments. I was telling Gunnar and Elisabet that.”

  “Now you’re going to kill people for real?” Horas asked, exasperation in his voice.

  “Stop sounding like Lydya in the old chronicles,” snapped Justen. “Everyone says that life will be fine if I just forget this foolish obsession of mine. ‘Go on, Justen. Don’t worry about anything. Recluce will be fine. Don’t worry if the Whites conquer all of Candar. Don’t worry if all trade with Recluce gets cut off. Everything will be fine.’” Justen glared from his prone position. “Well, it won’t be fine. I’m sorry this happened. It won’t happen again, because as soon as I can, I’m leaving.”

  Horas’s shoulders slumped. “You can’t keep doing this, Justen,”

  The door opened again, and Cirlin stood there. “It is rather difficult to get any rest with the four of you arguing about whether Candar and the world should be saved and if Gunnar or Elisabet should help Justen save it, and whether Justen meant to hurt us.” She turned to Horas. “I know Jus-ten didn’t mean what happened.”

  “Good intentions don’t bring back dead people,” Horas said, an edge to his voice. “Justen will go off and save the world, but I’d like him to leave our corner halfway intact.”

  “That’s the problem, and that’s why Justen’s right and you’re wrong, Father,” Elisabet said.

  Gunnar took a deep breath. Justen tried to hold back the insane grinning feeling he felt.

  Elisabet turned to her mother, then to her father. “I will go! And you can’t stop me! You don’t understand how important it is. You don’t!”

  “Elisabet…” Gunnar’s voice was low. “Justen and I and Martan will go, and as soon as we can.”

  “You two…” sighed Horas. “More death and destruction?”

  “You act as if I have a choice,” said Justen slowly. “I don’t.”

  “You have to blow up your family?” snapped Horas.

  “No. I have to right the Balance… except that the ancients didn’t exactly hand me a map.”

  “You are going to save the world? And face who knows how many White Wizards, when you couldn’t handle even a few in Sarronnyn?”

  “I know more now.” Justen forced a smile. “I think you saw that.”

  “You’ll destroy us all.”

  “I don’t have a choice.” Justen kept his voice even.

  “But-”

  “Horas,” said Cirlin evenly, “if Justen doesn’t have a choice, he doesn’t have a choice. And if that’s the way he feels, then we need to help him get to Candar as quickly as possible. Before we start a civil war here on Recluce.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Horas.

  “Oh?” asked Cirlin. “And what are we doing right now?” Her eyes swept the group.

  A short silence filled the room.

  “I think I can persuade Heldra and her daughter to help with the stitching on Justen’s balloon,” added Cirlin.

  Horas shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other.

  “Father… I didn’t mean it,” Elisabet pleaded. “But Jus-ten’s right. I know he’s right.”

  “We’ll see, daughter.” Horas looked at Justen. “Heldra, unlike the rest of us, is not likely to stitch your fancy silksheen on faith.”

  “I’ve still got some golds to pay them with.”

  “That would definitely help.” Cirlin’s eyes traversed the four. “Now that we’ve settled that, can we get some sleep? Or some quiet?”

  “Oh, Mother…” But Elisabet hugged Cirlin, very gently. Then she stepped toward her father. “I’m sorry, Father.”

  “It’s all right.” Horas took a deep breath. “Mostly.”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” Justen added. “I wasn’t careful enough.”

  Elisabet slipped her arms around Horas.

  Gunnar gave a faint smile past her to Justen, and Justen nodded.

  Cirlin shook her head. “Such an amiable and agreeable group. So willing and eager to see each other’s views.”

  Horas coughed. “Speaking of views… Since everyone’s still up, and since no one is about to listen to my views-”

  “Oh, Father,” said Elisabet, exasperation edging her tone.

  “I’m going to put out cider and a perfectly good peach pie. Shouldn’t go to waste, I say,” said Horas. His tone turned wry. “After all, Justen might turn his lenses or something on it.”

  “If you’ve got some ale,” said Justen, easing himself into a sitting position and ignoring the twinges in his ribs, “I’ll take you up on the pie.�
�

  Gunnar gave a faint, exasperated headshake.

  “I’d like that, too.” Elisabet led the way to the kitchen.

  Horas stood aside, then gave Justen a long look and a sad headshake.

  Justen swallowed, but struggled to his feet.

  CXXXVI

  “I think the Council should consider an order for confinement of this… what’s his name?” Ryltar glanced toward Claris.

  “You can stop the act, Ryltar,” suggested Jenna, her eyes not meeting his, but drifting toward the light-splashed terrace beyond the Council Room. “You know very well the engineer’s name.”

  “What is his name?” asked Claris, her voice deliberately sweet.

  “Justen. You two make me sick with all your games, as if you’d never heard about…”

  “Heard about what, Ryltar? That this Justen made money with some sharp trading? Or that he’s apparently been a success as a trader while remaining highly ordered? Or is there something else we should know? Has he decided to compete with you on the Hamor routes?” Jenna turned her head and favored the wispy-haired counselor with a smile.

  “The marines say that he’s strangely accomplished with weapons,” added Ryltar.

  “I believe your… cousin… noted that, even before this Justen went to Sarronnyn. Is there something else?” asked Claris.

  “What does it take? The man’s order-mad. I’m not talking about exile or execution. I just want him confined so that he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

  “I believe he is resting with his family in Wandernaught. His brother is a Weather Wizard who is directly under Turmin’s supervision. This rest is a confinement of sorts, since he has been effectively removed from the engineering hall.”

  “I would like to request that he be physically confined and thoroughly examined, not only by Turmin, but by several other mages in the Brotherhood.”

  “Perhaps we should take that up at our next meeting,” suggested Jenna. “It might help if you had some better reasons, also, Ryltar.”

  “The next meeting is more than two eight-days from now.”

  “As you have pointed out often, Ryltar,” added Claris, “we do not have to act precipitously when we are not even sure something is yet a problem.”

  “Fine. Next meeting.” Ryltar stood and lifted the thin leather case and walked out stiffly. The heavy door closed behind him with a thud.

  “He’s angry. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him that angry,” observed Claris.

  “He’s not telling us something, and I don’t know why. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of this Justen.” Jenna brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and back over her ear. “And he never answered my question about the Hamor trade. None of it makes sense.”

  “If Ryltar’s afraid, it might be well for us to fear it also, Jenna.” Claris stood and glanced toward the closed door. “Ryltar is so cautious that he never wants to act. Now he does. What does that tell us?” She nodded politely. “Good day.”

  Jenna suppressed a frown as she stood also and answered. “Good day.”

  CXXXVII

  “Damned strange basket, if you ask me,” confessed Seldit, glancing at the oblong, waist-high woven basket standing in the middle of the cooper’s workroom.

  “Exactly what I need.” Justen smiled briefly, running his fingers across the triple-woven top ridge. “You did this well.”

  “Don’t get much call for baskets this big, young fellow.”

  “That’s probably true. I owe you three for this?”

  “We’d agreed on three…”

  Justen caught the suggestion in the cooper’s voice. “But it took more time and effort than you thought it would?”

  “Not a lot, but… Mallin had to help me some nights to get it ready.” The engineer lifted his purse, opened it and set four golds on the bench. “Here’s four.”

  “That’s generous, ser.”

  “Not at all. You had it ready when I needed it, and that’s important. I’ve got the wagon outside.”

  “You’ll take it now?”

  Justen caught the undercurrent of-was it fear?-in the cooper’s voice and answered as heartily as he could. “Best strike while the iron’s hot. Old smith saying, you know.” He replaced his purse and lifted the basket, light enough for him to heft alone, a good sign. “If you would open the door?”

  “Certainly., Master Justen.”

  Justen carried the wicker basket through the open double doors and out into the street, where he eased it into the wagon bed, then lifted and latched the tailgate shut.

  “Excellent work, Seldit!” the engineer exclaimed, loudly enough that Basta, standing in the doorway of his leather-and-dry-goods shop, turned to look toward the rotund cooper, whose shoulders slumped under the weight of the unasked praise. “First rate!” Justen added, trying to conceal a malicious grin as he untied the horses and climbed onto the wagon. While his ribs seemed healed, he did not want to attempt a vault.

  ‘Thank you,“ answered Seldit weakly. ”We try to please, ser.“

  Justen released the wagon brake and flicked the reins. The horses carried the near-empty wagon out of Wandernaught with easy steps. Thinking again about Seldit’s reactions, the engineer frowned.

  Shrezsan was working in the garden, her toddler nearby, and she waved briefly.

  Justen returned the wave, still thinking about Seldit, and Ryltar. How much longer before Ryltar would push the Council into acting? He coughed to clear his throat, relieved that the cough didn’t create even the slightest twinge in his ribs.

  But why was Ryltar so concerned? The counselor didn’t seem to be the type who really cared much about order, or even about tradition. The fact that he was involved with smugglers showed that his concern was with coin, not with higher considerations. Justen continued to mull the question as the team carried him back to the house.

  He pulled on the reins slightly to slow the horses before they turned onto the lane and plodded up to the stable.

  Elisabet waved from the orchard, then came running. Gunnar was waiting by the stable and slipped the wagon blocks in place as Justen set the brake and climbed down.

  “Does anyone need the wagon?” asked Justen.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “No,” added Elisabet. “Even the early apples aren’t ready to go anywhere yet.”

  “Then I’ll put it away after I get this inside.” Justen lifted the basket over the tailgate. “The balloon and the lens framework are finished. All I need to do is attach the brackets to this basket. After that, let’s load the land engine and leave tonight.”

  “I’d thought- Why?” asked Gunnar.

  “Tonight? So soon?” asked Elisabet.

  “Because someone is watching and thinks it will be later. Seldit really didn’t want me to take the basket yet. He was obviously uneasy about it, even after I gave him an extra gold.”

  “Free with your com, aren’t you?”

  “I thought it was well invested to get the basket and get out.” _,

  “Your coal bins aren’t full. Dad and I can fill them while you and Mother do the brackets.” Gunnar paused. “Is it a good idea to travel the High Road at night?”

  “It might be better. I don’t know how horses would take to the land engine.”

  “There is that.”

  “I can pack up some food to go with all the dried provisions stored in the chest,” added Horas, who had just walked past the stable from the eastern grove.

  “We might have to wait a few days in Nylan for the Llyse,” added Gunnar.

  “That’s still better than being here. I could put the land engine in the engineering hall, I think, for the engineers to ‘study.’ ”

  Gunnar nodded. “You’re worried. A lot.”

  “I think Ryltar’s up to something, maybe a lot of somethings. And I don’t understand why.”

  “That might be,” said Horas, “but you need to be thinking about loading and preparing to depart, if that’s what yo
u’ve got in mind.”

  “Trust Father to be the practical one,” laughed Gunnar. “Where do we start?”

  “With the balloon. It goes hi the inside compartments. I’ve packed some spare fabric, but I really don’t want it ripped. The frame for the lenses is already broken down and inside the padded crate on the floor of the shed…” Justen began to detail what went where in the limited cargo space of the land engine.

  “I never realized that you could be so well-organized,” Gunnar told his brother.

  “I’ve thought about it for a while, and-”

  “Tell me what I can bring out,” interrupted Elisabet.

  “You can bring out all the supplies. Father knows where they are.” The engineer looked at the nearly cloudless late-afternoon sky. “I need to get the land engine out. I don’t think we’ll need the canvases, though.”

  “Canvases?” asked Cirlin as she walked down from the smithy.

  “Those canvas covers you had Heldra make. They’re to keep the rain or too much sun off us, but I don’t think we’ll need them on the way to Nylan.”

  “No. There won’t be any rain,” added Elisabet as she set off for the kitchen, scurrying after Horas.

  Justen, Gunnar, and Cirlin wheeled the land engine out of the stable and into the yard.

  “Take more than three people to move this once it’s loaded.” Gunnar leaned against the side armor of the craft and wiped his forehead.

  “Not on the road, but on soft ground.” Justen set the brake.

  Elisabet returned from the kitchen with several waxed packages. “Where do I put these?”

  “Set them here.” Justen pointed to the seat beside the driver. “I’ll load them once they’re all here. I know in which order they go inside the locker.” Gunnar raised his eyebrows.

  “I measured. What good’s an engineer’s training if he doesn’t use it?”

  “I think I’ll get the balloon,” Gunnar answered.

  “I’ll help,” added Cirlin.

  “Father wants to know if he can start dinner.” Elisabet. looked at Justen.