The Death of Chaos (30 page)

   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.

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 Maris 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.

   “Do you want war?” Maris's voice is high, almost squeaky. “Do you know what that will do to Recluce?”

   “To your precious traders, you mean?” asks Heldra.

   “No,” counters Talryn, “but do you think we really have any choice? I think it's time to have the Brotherhood act.”

   “What do you have in mind?” Maris fingers his beard.

   “Follow Heldra's suggestion. Have the trio pick off every Hamorian warship that leaves Dellash. If they have to stay there, then that neutralizes them.”

   “What about their traders?”

   “Leave them alone... for now.”

   “And Sammel?” asks Heldra. “I had planned to take-”

   “I think Sammel is the least of our problems. Besides, do you want to take one of the trio out of action for three eight-days to transport you and a black squad? Right now, the ships are needed more off Delapra. In any case, if chaos and order focuses attract, Lerris may solve that one for us.” Talryn straightens and takes his hands off the chair.

   “I don't know...” muses Heldra.

   “I don't either, but I don't think you should be wandering through Sligo at the moment. As for using the trio, what's the alternative? Wait until Candar is run by Hamor with dozens of those steam cruisers?”

   “I don't understand,” protests Maris. “How can they build all those machines? I thought the amount of order in the world was limited.”

   Talryn laughs. “They're using the other side of the balance. If order is limited, so is chaos. Cassius suggested this could happen. Their machines are made of steel, and they've made so many that they've stretched out the destructive aspects of chaos. If Cassius is right, at some time, there will be a rebound, but it won't happen immediately, and it won't do us much good if Hamor holds Candar before it happens.”

   “But how could this happen?”

   “How does anything happen? People make it happen, and we let it occur.”

   The Eastern Ocean glitters bright blue and green as the three glance to the east, in the direction of Hamor.

SINCE KRYSTAL WAS in Dasir-some sort of shake-up with the outliers and some problem in the region involving the local and the regional commander-I was up early. I'd fed and groomed Gairloch and the mare. After feeding the two, I took out my staff and worked a little with the exercise bag, until I was sweating. By then I felt guilty for taking the time. I always seemed to be rushing from one thing to another.

   By the time I actually got to woodwork, my tunic was damp, not from exercise but from crossing the yard to and from the barn in the rain-four times-to clean the stables and feed Gairloch and the mare, and because I'd had to get some oil from the far shed.

   Outside the shop the rain continued to pelt against the shop windows. Chilly as it seemed, it was warmer than it had been, and in Kyphros no one said anything about the late winter and early spring rains because there was seldom much moisture after that-not until the next winter.

   The little details ate into my time at every opportunity. If it weren't the need to get finishing oil or lamp oil, it was time to sweep the floor, or refill the moisture pot, or sharpen the chisels, or take the saws to Ginstal for sharpening, or reformulate the glue, or fix a stool or chair for Rissa. That didn't even include such problems as lying flat on my back for nearly a season, or trying to improve my staff skills. With the chores held at bay, I was working on Antona's desk, muttering to myself, because the way I'd drawn the framework for the pedestals wasn't going to work. Like a lot of things, the plan looked good, but sharp edges weren't good planning because they get chipped or they hurt people. Rounding corners is better planning, but every piece has to be double mitred. Some crafters don't-they just use a forty-five-degree angle and then plane the angles down. When I tried that, each one looked subtly different, and I wasn't about to charge fifty golds for a desk with different roundings. With a simple-looking piece, for the wood surfaces to fit, I had to trim each internal brace piece exactly the same-for the entire two-plus cubits. It was easy enough, but time-consuming. Cherry is hard, and the least impatience usually ruins the wood under the blade.

   As I'd suspected, Antona's desk was going to be more involved than I had figured-even though I'd thought that when I had priced it.

   “Master Lerris-someone's driving into the yard,” Rissa announced from the door to the shop.

   “I'm coming.” I set down the calipers and walked right onto the step under the front eave. A well-kept covered trap, with polished brasswork, was pulling into the yard. The driver wore both a waterproof and livery. Anyone who had a two-wheeled carriage also had a full-sized carriage, and anyone who could afford both was clearly wealthy.

   The thin and white-haired man who stepped from the carriage and walked up to the narrow porch created by the overhanging eaves and the wide stone step was Finance Minister Zeiber. The first time I'd met him had been at the dinner where I first met the autarch, and Minister Zeiber had suggested my approach to Antonin had been too theoretical.

   I still didn't like him, but I opened the door to the shop and gestured for him to enter. “Please come in, Minister Zeiber.”

   Rissa stepped back and headed for the kitchen, not that I blamed her.

   I followed him inside and closed the door.

   “You are said to be a fine crafter.” Zeiber's deep-set eyes did not meet mine, but traversed the shop, settling for a minute on the partly completed framework for the desk pedestal. “What is that?”

   “That's the beginning of a double-pedestal desk.”

   “Hmmm...” He cleared his throat and looked back to me.

   I couldn't really sense much in the way of disorder about him, but he made me feel uneasy. Was there such a thing as ordered-dishonesty? Or dishonesty that didn't involve chaos?

   “I would like to commission a simple bookcase.”

   “Do you have any idea of exactly what you want? Size, number of shelves, height of shelves? What type of wood?”

   “It does not have to be large...” His eyes roamed back across the shop, stopping on the moisture pot. “What is in the pot?”

   “Water. It keeps the wood from splitting if I keep the air a little moister. In the summer, I don't need the pot, but I hang damp cloths around.”

   Zeiber nodded. “You are very thorough as a crafter. Surely, you could use your... other abilities...”

   I laughed-softly, I hoped. “That takes a great deal of effort. What counts is how the piece looks in your home, not how it looks here.”

   He waited.

   “Do you want me to sketch some rough ideas for you?”

   “Oh, no. I want a case with four shelves. Each shelf would be three-quarters of a cubit above the one below. The bottom shelf should be a half cubit off the floor, and the legs should be strong enough to bear four stone worth of books. The wood should be the strongest possible.”

   “For a bookcase, I'd suggest red or black oak. Lorken is too brittle, and cherry isn't strong enough. The nut woods could be rather expensive.”

   “The case should be dark.”

   “Black oak?”

   “How much would that cost?”

   “First, let me sketch what you told me.”

   The public works minister frowned, but I sketched, until I had the piece laid out on paper. “Is this what you had in mind?”

   “Are the legs thick enough?”

   “That's why I planned to slant them in the arcs. The weight is gradually shifted to the bearing surface.” I used the quill to point out what I meant. “Here the weight rests across the entire top of the leg piece. What you don't see is that I'll run another piece of oak all the way around the inside here to reinforce the legs. That way, you'll have grace and strength.”

   “You would use oak where it cannot be seen?”

   “Minister Zeiber, you wish a strong case, do you not?”

   “How much?”

   “Eight golds,” I told him. “If you are not satisfied when it's done, you do not have to accept it.”

   “And lose my deposit, I suppose?”

   “No. There is no deposit.”

   “How do you make coins, young fellow?”

   “Frankly, if you don't want it, I could probably sell it for more to someone else.”

   “Oh...” Zeiber looked positively disappointed, and he stood there for a long moment. “You will inform me when it is complete?”

   “I will deliver it when it is complete-if that is agreeable?”

   “Oh, most certainly.” He nodded. “You do run a different business, crafter, but to each his own. Good day.”

   I barely got to the door before he did, and I watched as the trap carried him out of the yard and back toward Kyphrien.

   The whole business bothered me more than a little. Minister Zeiber was in charge of public works, basically the main roads and bridges-mostly the metaled ones. I'd bid the bookcase low because I felt Zeiber had commissioned it not because of my skill, but because of my consort. There was no way I wanted it construed as an indirect bribe. He'd been surprised at my indications that I had bid lower than the going price. The whole thing bothered me. If I didn't take the work, then I was too good to do it, and that caused problems. Besides, Krystal was important enough that I'd run into the same problem with anything I did. That meant I had to do good work, and even then I wasn't going to be certain if I were getting the commission because of my skill or contacts.

   Still, I needed work at the moment, and puzzling about the customer's motivations wasn't going to get the commission started.

   I had just finished sketching out the last of the details for the bookcase for Minister Zeiber when I heard another horse. After setting down the quill, I walked to the door. The rain had completely stopped earlier, but the yard was muddy.

   The small man on the horse wore a peaked cap of green and white plaid wool, and a quilted brown waterproof over it. Clearly at home in the saddle, he vaulted down with an ease that equaled Krystal's, tied the horse to the post with three quick turns, and bounced up to the step.

   “Master Lerris, I trust?”

   “I'm Lerris. How might I help you?” I held the door and gestured.

   “Thank you. Thank you. I'm Preltar. I'm a wool factor- the man who deals mostly with the Analerian herders.”

   That explained his ease on horseback. According to the history I'd learned from Lortren and the Brotherhood, Analeria had been the high plains region between what were now Gallos and Kyphros, when they all had been ruled from Fenard. Then Jeslek, the High Wizard of Fairhaven, had raised the Little Easthorns, driving the nomadic herders-those that survived- into the high grasslands of southwest Kyphros. The Analerians lived on horseback, and distrusted those who did not or could not ride.

   “I take it that you want some woodworking done?” I closed the door.

   “Quite so. Quite so.” He unfastened his jacket, rubbed his hands, then pulled off the wool cap. He had a shiny bald head and bushy white eyebrows that gave him a hawkish look. “A dowry chest. Yes, a dowry chest.”

   I drifted toward the bench that held my makeshift drafting board. “Do you have any idea of what you want?”

   Preltar wandered toward the beginnings of the frame of Antona's desk. “This? What might this be?”

   “It's the beginning of the left pedestal of a twin-pedestal desk.”

   “I see. But you're using cherry for the frame?”

   I nodded. “Good crafting starts on the inside.”

   “Good crafting starts on the inside! Ha! I like that. I do like that. Good crafting starts on the inside.”

   I waited.

   “Ah, yes, a dowry chest. It must be a quality chest, and of course it has to be of cedar, to keep the woolens and the linens, you understand, and the hinges must be beautiful and brass. Brass doesn't rust, and, if it's lacquered... but you understand all that. Hylera is marrying-we're old-fashioned, you know, and the ceremony will be in the Temple. Most folks don't think all that ceremony is necessary, but blood will tell, you know?”

   Blood probably did tell, but that wasn't anything I'd choose to explore.

   “Well... blood is blood, and Jisrek-he's Kilert's father- trades more in the southeast off the grasses at the edge of the High Desert. The wool is tougher there, but who wants clothes as tough as cordage? Kilert is more into the factoring-he spends most of his time in Ruzor, and since he and Hylera will be moving to Ruzor, she must have a good-quality dowry chest. Hensil, except it was really Verin-she told Mura, and Mura, well, it wouldn't do that anyone but you craft the dowry chest. Ha!”

   I was breathless by then, and I hadn't even done the talking. “Hylera is your daughter. You want a dowry chest for her. It should be made entirely from cedar, preferably using the most aromatic wood to line the inside, and the hinges should be both strong and decorative, and they should be of brass?”

   “Exactly! Just so. Just so. Verin said you understood what she needed, and she never talked to you even.”

   “How big a chest?”

   “How big? How big? Hylera... she never said, but she will be getting linens and woolens and darkness knows how many cloths and things. How big do you think it should be, Mastercrafter?”

   “If it is a decorative piece, it should be smaller-probably no more than three or three and a half cubits, and a cubit to a cubit and a half high.” I bent down and used my hands to indicate the approximate size.

   Preltar frowned.

   “I could make it bigger, but the bigger it is the heavier it gets.”

   “Heavier... yes... but she will have much to store in it.”

   It was his chest-or hers? “How about this big?” I motioned again, using my hands to draw in the air a piece a third again the size of the first.

   “Much better. Much better.”

   I turned to the drawing board and dipped the quill, then sketched out a simple design. “How about something along these lines?”

   “Hylera said something about a bumper rail... a bumper rail...”

   “Yes. You run a coping around the edges at the top and bottom.” I sketched those in.

   “Better. Better. And what about the hinges?”

   In the corner of the paper, I drew several types of hinges- strap hinges, inside hinges, and big decorative butterfly hinges.

   “Those. Yes, those are it exactly.” He pointed to the decorative butterfly hinges. “And it should be appropriate to their station, and their entrance into Ruzor. Yes... most appropriate...”

   I'd have to get a coppersmith to do the too-elaborate butter-fly hinges on his daughter's chest. That might be a problem because I didn't know arty of the coppersmiths that well. So far, I'd gotten by with ironwork from Ginstal.

   Borlo did good work, supposedly, but outside of three words once, I'd never really spoken to him. There was also a woman-Merrin-who had come from Southwind. I took a deep breath. I probably needed to visit them both if I needed metalwork. Like everything else, one thing led to another.

   “This will be too much, Mastercrafter? Too much? You sighed.”

   “I did sigh, but that was not for this chest.” The lie tightened my guts, and my head throbbed for a moment. “I was thinking about other items not within my control. I apologize. Is there anything else you would like? Or that your daughter would need in this chest?”

   “Two compartments-one for linens and the other for woolens. Yes, I should have mentioned that. But ordering chests, I don't do that often, although I will, I suppose, next year again, when it gets to be Gresta's turn, and two years after that... you see, Mastercrafter, you could see many chests.” Preltar beamed. “Is it possible to get this chest for five golds?”

   The hinges would probably cost me close to a gold with the decorative nature. If the top were too heavy, I might have to reinforce them with inside hinges, although I hoped to avoid that. Cedar wasn't cheap, either.

   “Alas, no. The materials alone might run that.” That was an overstatement, and, again, my guts protested. This part of the business I did hate, because bargaining is based on deception of sorts, and deception is more than a little hard on me.