The Order War

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Martan scuffed the burned grass. “What I saw was real, wasn’t it?”

  “Mostly.”

  “This is serious business.”

  “Yes,” added Gunnar, stepping out of the land engine after setting the brake. “Everything Justen does, I think, is serious business.” He turned to his younger brother. “What was that?”

  “A trick from the great forest. The only way you can win is to accept both order and chaos within yourself. I didn’t think any White could do that.” Justen wiped his still-sweating forehead.

  “I don’t think most Blacks could do that, either,” responded Gunnar. He glanced around the hut. “I doubt anyone will bother us now. I also think that every White Wizard in Candar probably knows we’re here.” He paused. “Why couldn’t you use that instead of that other… infernal thing?”

  “It won’t solve the problem.” Justen slowly stood, grasping the timber framing the way station’s doorless opening to help him rise. “These two weren’t that strong, either.”

  “Here…” Gunnar shoved a wedge of cheese and the end of a loaf of bread at Justen.

  “Thanks.” Justen slowly chewed on first the bread and then the cheese as Gunnar brought in the pallets and some supplies.

  Martan fed more sticks and a small log to the dying fire.

  Even before Gunnar had carried in his second load, Justen had struggled to the hearth by the fire, where he soaked up warmth and tried to keep his knees from turning to water.

  Martan knelt and looked sideways at Justen. “That wizardry stuff takes it out of you.”

  Justen nodded.

  Martan rose and left the hut. When he returned, he offered Justen the small bucket of clear spring water.

  “Thank you.” Justen took a deep swallow. His legs had stopped quivering, and he no longer felt as though he would fall over.

  “I throttled it down and set the brake. What else?” asked Gunnar.

  “Open the main release valve by the-”

  “Oh… right.” Gunnar hurried back to the Demon.

  Justen rose and followed, more slowly.

  In the darkness, Gunnar turned to Justen. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “The way things are going, we both had better check things.”

  “Maybe.”

  Justen threw the thin tarp over the seats. “This ought to keep anything from getting damp.”

  “I don’t feel any rain.”

  “Let’s get some food and rest.”

  The two walked back into the way station and sat down on the stone floor. Gunnar spread cheese and bread on a square of cloth and then added some pearapples.

  The three ate silently.

  “We’ll need more coal-or wood-or something,” Jus-ten mumbled, his mouth full of cheese and bread.

  “Can we buy it?” asked Martan. “You said you had golds.”

  “How? Do we steam up to the collier or the blacksmith wearing black and say, ‘Oh, I’d like to buy ten stone worth of coal or charcoal’?”

  The marine laughed. “How about stealing it honestlike?”

  “Take it and leave coins?” Justen mused. That was certainly better than theft. “Where’s the nearest town? We can probably make only another twenty kays before we’re running on coal dust. The Demon burns coal faster than I figured.”

  “Well, we’re traveling faster than I figured. When will we reach Fairhaven?” Gunnar asked.

  “It’s at least another half-day’s travel, even with the Demon.”

  Gunnar leaned back on the thin pallet he had unrolled and closed his eyes.

  “Sleeping already?” asked Martan.

  “No. He’s riding the winds, trying to find a town.”

  “You two… sometimes it’s fine. Other times, I wonder what I got into,” admitted Martan.

  “So do we.”

  CXLVIII

  “Oh…” Justen awoke with a start as Martan touched his shoulder. He had slept deeply, perhaps too deeply. He had not even dreamed of Dayala, or of the White Wizards.

  “If we’re to get this coal…” said the marine softly.

  “Yes.” Justen took a deep breath and stretched, trying to remove the stiffness from his back.

  By the time he had pulled on his boots, splashed his face in the stream to try to wake up, and rolled up his pallet, Mar-tan had repacked the land engine, and Justen had to move the pallets to get the buckets.

  “I thought we were getting coal.”

  “We need water, and we might as well refill the reservoir here.”

  “With those dinky buckets? It’ll take until well after dawn.”

  “We need the water.” Martan shrugged.

  “Now?” groaned Gunnar.

  “Now.”

  “I’m hungry,”‘protested the Air Wizard.

  “So am I. We can eat while we’re traveling toward this place you say might have coal.” Justen carried the first bucket up from the stream behind the way station.

  Splluuussh…

  “Crap!” Gunnar stood ankle-deep in the stream. “You and your water before breakfast.”

  “Fill the bucket and pass it up, or carry it.”

  The sky was noticeably gray by the time the land engine puffed northward.

  “I told you it would take until dawn.”

  Justen said nothing as he chewed on the still-moist bread packed by Horas.

  “My boots will be wet all day,”

  “Can’t you use that wizardry of yours?” asked Martan.

  “It works fine on clothes and me. If I use it on leather, it ruins it. The boots would fall apart.” Gunnar bit into a hunk of cheese.

  “How far?” asked Justen.

  “… nudder oo ays.”

  “What?”

  “I think he said two kays,” interpreted Martan.

  After taking another wide curve, even Justen could sense the iron ore and the wrought iron piled next to the dark, hut-like home that stood beneath a small hill.

  A packed and wide road led left off the main road and to the ironmongery. Justen turned the tiller, and the Demon followed the side road. To the east, the horizon was turning a paler gray.

  “We need to hurry,” said Martan.

  Awwooo… ooo… oo…

  “There’s a dog,” offered Gunnar.

  “I hear,” said Justen. “Can you put it to sleep?”

  “Probably. Wait a moment.”

  Justen eased back the throttle, and the Demon barely edged forward.

  “Dawn’s not that far off,” hissed Martan.

  “He’s sleeping now,” said Gunnar in a low voice. “The coal is in a big pile between that shed and the house.”

  “I’ll drive right up beside it.”

  All three held their breath as Justen eased the land engine across the yard and to the coal pile.

  “Awful close to the house,” whispered Martan.

  “Take your bow and watch it, then. I’m going to put golds by the door-I’ll feel better about paying first-and then Gunnar and I will load the bins.”

  “Be a moment ‘fore I can get it strung.”

  Justen set the brake and tried to walk quietly across the yard to the house. He eased four golds from his purse onto the flat log set beside the ironmonger’s door. Then he walked back toward the coal.

  “Stop right there, my fine thieves!” A stocky man stood barefoot on the stones outside the doorway of the house. He carried a bow with an arrow, nocked and pointed at Gunnar.

  “Should have put the ironmonger to sleep, too,” said Martan. His bow was trained on the man.

  Justen sighed. “We’re not thieves.”

  “Likely tale.”

  “Since this has already turned into a mess, let me explain. I’m Justen. I’m one of those nasty Black engineers from Recluce. The man you have your arrow pointed at is my brother Gunnar. The fellow who has his bow aimed at you is Martan. He’s a Black marine, and they don’t usually miss.”

  “I’m Thasgus, and I don’t often miss, eith
er.”

  “If you will look beside the doorstep, or let me go get it, you will find that there are four golds laid there as advance payment for your coal. That’s what we want.”

  “Why are you running around in the dawn, then?”

  Justen snorted. “Since we landed in Hydolar, I’ve been shot at. My land engine has been attacked. Two White Wizards tried to destroy us last night. The last time I was in Candar, I was chased practically across the continent by a pair of White Wizards.”

  “Sounds like you’re not exactly wanted here. Why did you bother coming back?”

  “I’m not exactly popular anywhere right now. That’s true. I came back because-” Justen shrugged, hoping he did not have to unbalance the order and chaos around him, although he was willing to do so “-I thought it might be interesting to meet the High Wizard in Fairhaven.”

  “Mind if I have Dessa look by the step?” asked the stocky ironmonger.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Dessa! Look next to the step by the door. Tell me what’s there.”

  “You want me to look by the doorstep?”

  “Yes, woman. Look by the step. And don’t mind all the wizards in the yard.”

  “Wizards in the yard? My, my…” A thin woman peered out the door. “Well, there’s a bone here. Looks to be chewed by Gutfull. And a bit of ribbon…”

  “The other side, please?” asked Justen.

  “Oh… here? There be four coins, Thasgus. Look to be gold. Wait a moment. My scissors are iron.”

  Several faint clinks followed.

  “They look gold, and they ring gold.”

  “You lower that bow,” offered the ironmonger, “and I’ll lower mine. There’s more of you, anyway.”

  Justen nodded, and Martan lowered his bow slowly. So did the ironmonger.

  “What kind of coal ye be needing?” Thasgus set the bow against the house. “For four golds, you can have as much of the best as you can cart in that little wagon.”

  “Could you throw in a little redberry and a mug of beer?” pleaded Justen.

  Thasgus frowned. “Who wants the beer?”

  “I do.”

  The ironmonger laughed. “A Black Wizard who drinks beer?” Then his face clouded. “Ye be sure you’re a wizard?”

  Justen drew the light around him, vanishing from the other’s sight, then walked toward Thasgus, appearing less than three paces away. “Satisfied?”

  “Takes all kinds.” The stocky ironmonger shook his head. “But those White Wizards will turn you into ashes, -from what I hear tell. You fellows seem a little… nice… to do such a thing, even If you do have a funny way of doing business.”

  “Don’t judge the ore by its shine, Thasgus,” warned Dessa from the doorstep. She carried two pitchers.

  “Yes, woman.” Thasgus glanced at Justen. “You found the coal. Shovels are in the shed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No thanks. You’re paying for it.”

  Martan nodded and smiled, but he kept the bow half ready.

  CXLIX

  “You take those curves too fast,” protested Gunnar. “I can feel the wheels skidding sideways on the stone,”

  “It’s safer that way.” Justen laughed. “It makes it harder for an archer to hit us.”

  “What archer even knows we’re on the road?” Gunnar paused. “You know something? We haven’t seen anyone on this road today. No one.”

  “It’s only a bit past dawn.”

  “Early morning,” Martan put in.

  “Fine. We still haven’t seen anyone. I don’t like it.”

  “That’s why it’s better to move fast. They’ve probably warned everyone off the road. It will make it easier for us to get to Fairhaven. We’re really not far away.”

  “You’re not going to just drive right into Fairhaven, are you?”

  “Of course. We’ll take the main road from the south and head straight for the great square, or whatever it’s called.” Justen straightened the tiller and glanced to his right, then to his left. The road continued to wind between the low bills that presumably guarded the approach to Fairhaven.

  “Justen, can’t I get a serious answer?”

  “I need a hill.”

  “A hill?”

  “A hill south of Fairhaven. A tall hill with a clear view of Fairhaven and the White Tower, and with a road that will take us partway up.”

  “Just like that?” asked Gunnar. “Am I supposed to create one?”

  “No. Look for it.”

  “While you’re throwing me all over the land engine?”

  Martan nodded from the third seat, his face slightly pale.

  “Do what you can.” As the road straightened, Justen pushed the throttle forward. Behind him, Martan groaned almost inaudibly.

  For another ten kays, Gunnar withdrew into himself and out of himself, and Martan hung on to the sides of the third seat.

  “Around the next corner, there’s a hill. It looks out on Fairhaven.”

  Justen slowed the Demon as they rounded the corner and studied the hill. “It’s too far away.”

  Gunnar sighed. “We’re getting close to Fairhaven.”

  “Not as close as I need to be.”

  “Great. Let me look again.”

  A man and a donkey stared at the land engine from a side road. Justen waved brightly. The man’s mouth dropped open.

  “How about that one?”

  “It’s really not as high as I’d like.”

  “What are you looking for? Maybe we should have brought a White Wizard like the great Jeslek to create what you need.”

  “Gunnar, I’m worried, too.”

  “There’s a hill on the next curve. It’s shorter, but it’s mostly clear to Fairhaven, and you might be able to get this contraption to climb it if you really got moving. And it’s the last real hill before Fairhaven. After it, there’s one low ridge and then the city starts. This one is only a sheep meadow. The one below it has houses.”

  “All right.”

  “There’s a lane there. It goes partway up.”

  Justen eased the throttle farther forward.

  Marian’s fingers tightened around the iron-plated oak as the land engine swayed more violently. Behind them, road dust rose into a high plume.

  More than five hundred cubits short of the hilltop, the wheels dug into soft ground and spun.

  The half-score sheep had half-walked, half-trundled, toward the cottage downhill from where the land engine was stalled.

  Justen sighed and set the brake. “We’ll have to cany the stuff up there.”

  “With everyone watching?”

  “You want to do it after they send troops?”

  Justen climbed out of the Demon and stared at Fairhaven. For a moment, the low, glittering white buildings to the north shimmered… shifted… and Justen felt as though he were standing on the edge of a deep abyss and that those buildings tilted into the depths. He swallowed. Fairhaven was even more unbalanced than Nylan-but different.

  “Are you all right?” asked Martan.

  “I’m fine.” Somehow, the marine’s enthusiasm reminded him of Clerve. He swallowed again.

  A man with a staff marched from the cottage uphill toward the Demon and the three from Recluce. Justen began to unfasten the wicker balloon basket.

  “What business have you here?” The shepherd had a short brown beard, and he waved the staff at them.

  Justen stepped forward, staying well beyond the range of the staff.

  “I’m Justen, and I’m a Black-really a Gray-Wizard from Recluce. I’m setting things up to bring down Fairhaven and the White Wizards. Feel free to watch or to depart. One way or another, this won’t last for more than a day.” He shrugged theatrically, appeared to disappear for an instant and then reappeared. He spun a coin toward the shepherd, who let it fall. “That’s a gold. Call it rental for your meadow.”

  The man scooped up the coin without a word and backed down the hill, glancing from the marine with
the bow to the two wizards and back.

  Justen smiled, then whistled as he finished unfastening the balloon basket and began to carry it up to the hilltop. The notes sounded leaden, even to himself.

  “All of this?” asked Martan.

  “Everything in the lockers that’s not food or weapons. You bring what weapons you think we need, and Gunnar can bring the food.”

  “Why are we carrying it all up to the top?” asked Gunnar.

  “Because it’s the highest point on the hill,” explained Justen between breaths. “I’m out of shape.”

  At the top, he set down the basket and started back downhill.

  Gunnar shrugged and followed him.

  It was still somewhat short of midday by the time Justen sat in the middle of a pile of equipment and a smaller pile of coal beside the small heating stove with the tubing to the balloon.

  “Now what?” asked Gunnar.

  Justen continued to fiddle with the single lens as the stove puffed hot air into the slowly inflating balloon. “We put a shield-just the hint of one-around the balloon and then wait until they notice we’re here.”

  “What if they don’t?” asked Martan.

  “Oh, they will.” Justen grinned, glancing at the midmorning sun well above the browning grass of the eastern hills. “That’s what these are for.” He nodded toward the curved mirror and the wide crystal lens. “I intend to send a signal or two.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Gunnar massaged the back of his neck. “And after that?”

  “I get the balloon and the lenses ready, and you and Mar-tan build a rock shelter.”

  “A shelter? I came to fight,” protested Martan.

  “You’ll fight, I’m sure,” Justen said gently, “but not until after I take on the White Wizards. You need to protect Gunnar while he’s ensuring that the skies stay cloudless. A wizard with his senses in the skies has no way to protect his body.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be up in the balloon basket. I should be safe from most weapons there.” Justen shrugged. “But it can carry only one, anyway.”

  The small heat stove continued to puff hot air into the silksheen.

  CL