The Death of Chaos (51 page)

MORE THAN TWO eight-days had passed since we returned to Ruzor, and I had finally recovered from my stiffness, and I could hear, although sometimes people's words faded in and out, sometimes my eyes still hurt. The sun continued to beat down, and the dust continued to coat everything. Krystal continued to train and plan, and Kasee to persuade and to gather supplies.

   Few ships reached Ruzor, and what they brought was dear, indeed. Even the smugglers could find no more Hamorian rifles or cartridges, at any price.

   I started joining the Finest at their morning exercises and training, since I couldn't really do much woodwork, outside of some simple repairs. At times, I wished that I'd at least brought the cedar limb to carve, but I hadn't thought about that.

   That morning, after I loosened my shoulders, I finally picked up the staff. Then I wiped my forehead, even though I had only been in the mid-morning sun for a short time. Krystal stepped forward, the blade-shaped wand extended. Her exercise shirt was damp as well. I bowed, and so did she.

   “He's a mage, but he's going to be in trouble now...” murmured someone from the side of the courtyard.

   “... don't know. Staff is pretty long.”

   Her wand snaked out, and I parried... and parried... and blocked. So long as I wove a defense, she couldn't touch me. But I couldn't do much on the attack. So, eventually, I tried to touch her.

   We went at it until we were both soaked, and I got a few bruises. So did Krystal, but hers were lighter. I just couldn't strike that hard in practice.

   “Enough...” I finally panted. “You're more in practice. You do this all the time.”

   “All... right...” She was breathing almost as hard as I was.

   We stepped into the shade and watched some of the others practice. Weldein was using a wand against Tamra, and actually holding his own.

   “Does Weldein spar with Tamra a lot?” I asked.

   “No one else comes close to her with a blade.”

   “Except you and Yelena?”

   “And Weldein-now,” Krystal added. “He didn't at first, but he kept at it.”

   “Brave man.” In more ways than one, I thought.

   I watched for a while longer. “He's not as good as you are.”

   “Close,” Krystal commented.

   He was probably stronger than Krystal, but not quite as quick or as deft. Then I supposed that was how I'd have described the difference between me and Tamra with the staff, although I was definitely a great deal quicker than in the beginning, when Tamra had beaten me black and blue.

   “You're as good as she is,” Krystal added. “Different style, but as good.”

   I didn't believe it, but it was nice to hear.

   Haithen nodded as we passed, and so did Berli, pausing from a stretching routine.

   “Commander... ?”

   Subrella stood in the archway, a scroll in her hand, and circles under her eyes, though they were certainly no deeper than those under Krystal's eyes.

   “I'll see you later,” I said.

 
  Krystal gave me a wry smile, and I grinned, and made my way toward the wash house. After washing up, I carried the staff and my damp shirt up to Krystal's room. Herreld opened the door for me.

   “Show 'em how, Master Lerris?”

   “I think the commander did that. I managed to stay in one piece.”

   “More than most folks, these days.”

   I spread the shirt on the sill beneath the open window where, in the heat, it would be dry long before noon. Then, bare-chested, I sat on one of the chairs and read more of The Basis of Order.

   Krystal arrived later, much later, around noon, bearing two pitchers and some bread and cheese.

   “Nice view.”

   “I try.” But I had cooled down a bit and pulled on a shirt before I sat down with her at the table.

   We ate without saying much. We were both hungry.

   “More problems,” she finally explained. “Bandits on the south river road, not more than ten kays from Ruzor. So I sent Weldein and his squad out, along with a few others. Then, the Nordlan ship sent word that they wouldn't unload unless we sent a guard detachment. Beggars and people screaming for passage all over the piers.”

   “We don't even have any real idea if Hamor will attack.”

   “You don't believe that, do you?”

   “No,” I admitted. “They'll attack. That's what they do. Evil is as evil does.”

   “Are they evil or just greedy?”

   “Does it make any difference?” I swallowed some redberry. “I mean, in a way, Sammel was the same. He was greedy for knowledge... and he couldn't stop using it even when he knew it was evil.” I was trying to explain to myself as much as to Krystal.

   “Why was Sammel so evil?” Krystal sipped some of the amber ale, then some more. “You said that he was mostly trying to share knowledge. Why was that evil?”

   “He was treating knowledge as if it were order-or chaos-itself.”

   Krystal got this puzzled expression that told me that I wasn't making much sense. She set the mug of ale on the table. I tried again.“One of the big differences between order and chaos is that it's almost impossible to create pure order. You have to order something, but a chaos-wielder can throw chaos-fire at people-and that's close to pure chaos. Well... Sammel was just providing what he thought was pure knowledge-and pure knowledge is a lot like pure chaos-an awful lot of it's used for bad purposes.”

   “Are you sure? It seems to me that knowledge isn't good or bad. It's like a sword-you can use it to protect or kill.” I laughed.“That's a better explanation than mine.”

   “Why?” Krystal took a sip from the mug. “Because...”I dragged out the word, “When you lift a blade for real, someone always gets hurt-whether you're protecting or killing. Knowledge is like that.”

   “Ooooo... That explains a lot.” She frowned. “If knowledge always means someone gets hurt, that creates chaos, and that means Recluce has to oppose new knowledge, doesn't it?”

   “Oppose or hide?”

   “It's the same thing,” she pointed out. “There's another problem with knowledge. When you write out a way for using powder, like Sammel did for Berfir, it doesn't tell you what happens to people.”

   “But it could mean good things as well as bad,” protested Krystal.

   “The results could be good or bad.” I nodded in agreement, then added, “But the idea is bad, like chaos, because when you give someone written knowledge-words or diagrams on a scroll-you separate the knowledge from its effect on people.”

   “How is that different from a blade?” Krystal looked toward the window. “There's still no sign of rain.”

   “There won't be for a while,” I said, adding, “When you use a blade, you know, after the first time at least, that someone will get hurt if you use it.”

   “But you can threaten with a blade.”

   “That's why it appears more effective than knowledge. How can you threaten someone with knowledge? You can't, not without using it.”

   “Oh. And if you use it, then anyone can-so the use of black steel to confine powder went from rockets to cannon shells to rifles.”

   I frowned. “Not exactly.”

   There was a rap on the door. Krystal opened it, and the autarch stood there, a scroll in hand. Krystal stepped back, and Kasee stepped inside and shut the door in Herreld's surprised face. Then she slumped into the empty chair beside Krystal.

   “What is it?” Krystal toot out a spare mug and poured some of the ale into it, extending it to the autarch. “You look like you need this.”

   Kasee straightened up. “Thank you.” She took a swallow from the mug. “I need to talk to both of you.” We sat and waited. Kasee took another sip. “Hamor has Worrak, and their forces are massing to march up the Fakla River.” She glanced around. “I wanted to talk to you two, and if I summoned you, then everyone would be there before I had a chance to think.”

   That made sense. Everyone always watched the autarch. “Apparently, Recluce took on the Hamorian ships, and destroyed several, including the flagship, the Frentensea. Leithrrse was on board, and there were no survivors. Someone called Marshal Dyrsse has taken over command. He has a reputation as a rather bloody but effective commander. The remainder of the Hamorian fleet is resupplying, and will be headed here within an eight-day.”

   “They want to hit us before harvest,” said Krystal. “Dyrsse has requested more ships and troops, but is proceeding.” Kasee looked at me. “Things have become more clear.”

   I shrugged. “I guess I'm off to the Lower Easthorns again.”

   Krystal paled, but she said nothing.

   “I don't want a decision this afternoon.” Kasee looked from Krystal to me and back to Krystal. “I want you to consider the best course.”

   “We can't wait too long.” Why I pointed that out I had no idea, since I certainly wasn't enthused about wielding chaos to destroy another army and myself in the process. Maybe it had something to do with knowing that I couldn't do anything about a fleet and feeling I had to do something.

   “Let me know what you think tomorrow.” Kasee stood and took the scroll with her as she left.

   “Could you and Justen and Tamra talk this over?” asked Krystal.

   If he doesn't decide to disappear, I thought. “You definitely ought to be here, too.”

   “And Dayala.”

   So she sent poor Herreld off to round up everyone, and we straightened up the room and dragged out two more mugs and some more redberry and ale.

   Tamra arrived first. “What's this all about?”

   “Hamor.”

   Then came Justen and Dayala, looking slightly disheveled. I had to repress a grin. At his advanced age, yet. Then I thought again-at their advanced ages, yet.

   “You requested us?” Justen asked.

   “Hamor holds all of Hydlen. The new marshal is sending ships and troops to take Ruzor, though probably not for an eight-day, perhaps two. Another army will be marching up the Fakla River and through the Lower Easthorns. We don't have the forces to send to Lythga, not and still hold Ruzor.” Krystal sat down in the corner chair.

   For a moment, there was silence.

   “I suppose Lerris wants to go out and save Kyphros again?” Tamra leaned back so her chair was on two legs.

   “He had mentioned something like that,” Krystal said. “It's something he feels compelled to do periodically.”

   “Do you want to die that badly, Lerris?” asked Justen.

   I glared at them both. “You both make me ill. All you can do is tell other people what not to do. Fine. Are you suggesting that the autarch surrender Kyphros to Hamor? After all, probably fewer people-or at least fewer troopers-will die, and who cares about anyone else, anyway?”

   “No one died in Montgren,” said Justen.

   “Montgren didn't have any army at all and no wizards,” pointed out Krystal. “That meant the Countess had no choice. We do have a choice.”

   “The machines should not prevail,” said Dayala softly.

   Justen looked at her, clearly surprised that she had spoken.

   “Order should not be embodied in cold iron. It is against life and against the Legend.”

   “That seems to settle that,” said Tamra, looking at Justen, then at me.

   The way Dayala said it... I had to agree, but I looked at Krystal, and she nodded.

   “So we can't allow order to be embodied in iron,” I began, “but the problem is that pure chaos can be concentrated and developed without being attached to anything.” That seemed clear enough to me.

   “Of course.” Justen sounded exasperated. “That's the way the world is. Order has to be able to order something. You can't have pure order because order means the organized arrangement of something. Chaos is disorganization.”

   “But it has to disorganize something,” said Tamra.

   “But even chaos has some organization when it's used by the white wizards.” I knew I was on to something.“When they throw firebolts, what are they doing?”

   Dayala nodded.

   “Throwing firebolts organized with a minimum of order,” answered Tamra. “That doesn't change the fact that you need to duck if you don't want to get fried. Unless you have a better practical solution.”

   I knew I was right about this one. “When I destroyed Gerlis, what I did was let chaos build inside channels of ordered rock holding lots of little bits of iron-”

   “Iron ore. It generally works that way,” Justen agreed. “And if you can go deep enough, you can find it in most places.” He took the last of the ale Krystal had left and swallowed it. Then he poured more from the second pitcher. “Warm, but good.”

   “But...” I pointed out. “The molten rock was still rock. That means that-”

   “That's right.” Justen nodded as if he'd known that all along, and I wanted to brain him with my staff. “Pure chaos isn't usable. I suppose you could create it, but it has to be tied to something because you need some way to control it.”

   “This is simple stuff,” protested Tamra. “That's why Sammel was so dangerous. He knew some of the basics of order. What's your point, Lerris?” She grinned, and I wanted to brain her.

   “A sword is simple.” Krystal paused and smiled. “In the right hands, it kills people very quickly.”

   “What did you do to defeat chaos?” I had a good idea, but I wanted Justen to tell me.

   “Concentrated order through a fire-eye lens. It took most of the sun's light. Putting that much order in a small place created too much order, and that order tore apart anything it touched.”

   “That's what melted Fairhaven?” asked Krystal.

   Justen nodded. “Mostly.”

   “Couldn't we use that on the Hamorians?” I asked.

   “No. It took a year to build the device, and a lot of free order that doesn't exist. Even if it did, or you could free it, which I wouldn't be surprised if you could, we don't have the time.”

   “So what do we do?”

   “I don't know.” Justen shrugged.

   We talked a lot more than that, until dinner, but never came to a resolution clearer than the four of us would have to go to the Lower Easthorns and do something. What that might be, none of us would say, probably because we all feared it meant using order to raise chaos to destroy an order based on machines. And that would make a light-fired mess.