The Death of Chaos (52 page)

   Then, after everyone else left, things got worse.

   Krystal bolted the door and sat down at the table. She didn't look at me, and it didn't take much imagination to figure that she was angry.

   “What's the matter?” I asked.

   She didn't answer, just kept looking out the narrow window. I folded the shirt I'd left there to dry and put it in the wardrobe..

   “You don't want me to go?”

   Still no answer.

   I straightened a stack of papers in the corner and looked back at Krystal. She hadn't moved.

   I waited for a while, looking out the window at the stars above the sea. Despite the warmth of the night, they looked cold and distant. After a while, I touched her shoulder, and she pushed my hand away.

   “Please don't touch me.”

   “I can't fix whatever's wrong if I don't know what's wrong.”

   “Fix things? You fix things? You are the most arrogant, self-centered- Sometimes, I hate you!”

   “Hate me? What did I do?”

   Krystal finally stood, almost crackling with power of some sort, and I backed away as she walked to the window.

   “Do I have to spell everything out one letter at a time? You could tell I wasn't happy about your... exploit with Sammel, but you seemed to understand. I thought you did. But you didn't. That's clear enough.”

   “But-”

   Krystal didn't even listen to my objection and went right on. “First, you go off and defeat one white wizard and rescue Tamra. That wasn't too bad. Then you set up a house and woodworking shop, and you condescend to maintain the house, and the quarters for my guards, and feed them. Then you charge off and defeat this Gerlis, and almost get killed in the process. After that, you can't wait to go out and get aged ten years! I thought that might have taught you something, but, no, here we go again. Lerris, the hero, off to save Kyphros and Krystal once more!”

   “I don't understand.” And I didn't. It seemed simple enough. Krystal didn't have enough forces to hold Ruzor and fight off the sundevils coming through the Lower Easthorns. There was a lot of chaos under Candar, and a lot of rocks and stones in the mountains, and three wizards and a druid at least had a chance of stopping that army.

   “Lerris, your body may have aged ten years, but your mind has a lot of catching up to do.” She turned to look at me, and her face was stone-cold in the light from the single wall lamp.

   “It might help if you'd give me some idea of why you're so upset.” I bent down and smoothed the coverlet on the bed.

   “It might help if you tried to understand instead of- Oh, what's the use?”

   “Understand what? That you can't do it all? That I don't want to see you run over and destroyed by various wizards-”

   “What you want to do is smother me! If there's any danger, let Lerris try to reduce it. If there's a problem, let Lerris try to fix it. Being a blade is dangerous. You can't protect me from everything, and I'm so tired of your guilty, hang-dog look when you feel you haven't been able to save me or do as well as you think you should. Darkness! You muttered all the way back from Hydlen about how sorry you were. Death is part of life. People die. I may die. But stop taking on the weight of the world. Stop jumping in and throwing yourself in the fire- sometimes to save people who could care less. Who will care in a hundred years if you get ground to powder in the Lower Easthorns?”

   “I care now. I care because you don't have enough troops to fight two battles at the same time. I can't help you here, because anything I tried to do near a city would destroy the city and kill a lot of people-maybe you.”

   “Why don't you say it that way... instead of just pretending to be high and noble?”

   “I wasn't pretending anything.”

   “Oh.Lerris.”

   We didn't fall into each other's arms, but at least she didn't yell at me anymore, and the room wasn't quite as cold as the Roof of the World in winter, but I didn't sleep that well, and I don't think Krystal did, either.

“WHEN DO WE talk to Kasee?” I asked Krystal.

   Even right after dawn, even with fall approaching, the morning was hot enough that I had been sweating as soon as I had climbed out of bed.

   “Dayala told her to wait.” Krystal's voice was still cool- not as icy as two nights earlier, but cool.

   “Fine.” We'd been waiting for two days. I straightened my shirt and peered out the window at the calm waters of the harbor. A ship lay berthed at the main pier, the only one in days, bearing a Nordlan ensign. “There's a ship in the harbor.”

 
  “Maybe he's got a cargo of flour.”

   “We wish.”

   “We can wish.”

   I winced.

   Krystal belted her blade in place, getting ready to leave. I hadn't seep that much of her for the last few days, as though she were not quite avoiding me, but almost.

   At that point there was a rap on the door, and Krystal opened it to find both Herreld and Fregin standing there, Fregin with a staff he was using to hobble around while his leg healed.

   “Master Lerris,” stammered Fregin, “begging your pardon, but there's a tall mage, I mean, he's wearing black, and he's asking for you, and he came off the Nordlan steamer.”

   “A tall mage?” I didn't know what mage might be looking for me, especially one from Recluce. So I took my staff and turned to Krystal. “I'd like you to come.”

   She looked at me for a moment. “All right.”

   I had the feeling she thought I was trying not to be condescending, but what was I supposed to do?

   “Where is he?”

   “In the dining hall, ser. Eating.”

   We left Fregin behind as we hurried along the narrow corridor and down the twisting steps. Even that early, the corridors were not-quite-stifling. The dining hall was empty except for a single figure in black sitting near one end of a long trestle table. A half loaf of bread, some cheese, and a mug were on the wood before him.

   Almost as we entered, he stopped eating and swallowed.

   “Greetings, Lerris.” My father stood up from the table and bowed. He looked impressive, with the hard darkness of order laid over the twisted mix of chaos and order that Justen-and I, now-had. He also looked pale and tired.

   “Greetings.” I bowed slightly and gestured to Krystal. “This is Krystal. She's the autarch's commander. Krystal, this is my father.”

   “I am pleased to meet you, Krystal, both as commander and as a person.” He bowed to her, and I wished I had his charm.

   “It is my pleasure. I have heard much of you, both from Lerris and Justen.” She returned his greeting with a bow every bit as formal and deep as his.

   My father frowned, then said to Krystal, “I fear I bring ill tidings, although you may already know them.”

   “We have heard that Hamor intends to attack.”

   “A fleet of some twoscore ships is being assembled at Worrak, and they will sail-or steam,” he added with a bleak smile, “within the eight-day.”

   “Do you know whether there will be an attack through the Easthorns?”

   He pursed his lips. “An army is assembling, but my ability to see much beyond the waters is limited.”

   Krystal nodded. “I should notify the autarch. Perhaps you and your father would like some time together, Lerris.”

   With that, and a brief smile, she was gone.

   “She seems quite able,” offered my father.

   “Let's sit down.” I set my staff on the floor and slipped onto the bench. “She is more than able.”

   “She seems... a trace... formal.”

   “Right now, she's... concerned.” I didn't really want to blurt out that my consort was still more than a little angry at me, especially not right after he'd arrived.

   He nodded and picked up a corner of the loaf of bread.

   “Why did you come here?” I asked.

   “You are my son, Lerris. Hamor is out to destroy Kyphros and you two as well.”

   I swallowed. It didn't make sense. My father had sent me away without answering my simplest questions, yet he had come to Ruzor. I understood him even less than Krystal, and I still didn't understand her. “I still don't understand.”

   He drank some water from the mug and cleared his throat. “You understand the Balance now, I trust. You also understand why Recluce has opposed the spread of knowledge or machines, even since the time of Dorrin.”

   “Because more order leads to more chaos, and, I guess, the more of each, the more the chance for even greater destruction.”

   “That was the idea. It was even my idea, and Justen's as well. He was one of the finest black engineers, you know, and even he thought that ordered machines couldn't be made without black iron. We were wrong. Better metalworking techniques changed that, and Hamor has created more order, and more chaos. Recluce has weeded out, over the generations, wizards drawn to chaos, and chaos has found it harder-that's not precisely correct-to create chaos foci. There never were very many wizards in the rest of the world, besides Candar, probably because most wizards come from demon or angel stock, and those few were easy enough to find through their... modifications of order.” He sipped more water. “It's dry here.”

   “Demon or angel stock?” That was something I hadn't heard before.

   “It's not widely spread for a number of obvious reasons. There's no record of flame-red hair or silver hair like Creslin's before the fall of angels and the beginning of the Legend. That's all buried in the Brotherhood archives.”

   “Why are you here?”

   “You'd have been hard to find in Nordla, and you wouldn't have lasted a week in Swartheld-that's where dangergelders go it they go to Hamor.”

   “Wait a moment.” I was getting angry. “You got me put into the dangergeld before I knew what was happening just so I'd be sent to Candar?” There he was, still trying to manage me, bend my life to his pattern without telling me even what was at stake.

   “Not exactly. Elisabet and I knew that, once you found out what your abilities were, if you were exiled then, you'd be so angry that you'd probably lash out blindly. I'd also hoped you'd. meet with Justen. He usually finds dangergelders with your abilities.” He gave a bitter laugh. “You can be angry. I would be. I'd be very angry.”

   That stopped me. I just sat there, openmouthed. Finally, I closed my mouth, although it couldn't really have been open that long.

   “You had a brother-about a hundred and fifty years ago. He died in Hamor-three days after the ship landed. I tried to get the Brotherhood to stop sending blackstaffers there, and usually they don't now. Hamor's more for adventurers, people like... the trader... Leith something or other. I told Martan- he was named for someone who saved my life once-I told Martan everything you've had to find out, and he was so angry he never figured anything out.”

   Finally, I looked at my father again. He did look tired, and somehow older. “Do you want anything else to eat?”

   “No.”

   “You still haven't said why you came here.”

   He shrugged. “No one can save the world alone. Justen couldn't. I couldn't even save Recluce. And you can't save Kyphros-although that's just the beginning.”

   Once again, I was lost, just as I thought I was beginning to understand. “What do you mean?”

   He smiled, a sad smile. “The struggle between order and chaos never ends. The difference between Recluce and the Legend is not all that great. Recluce fights, and never wins, not for long. The druids in Naclos work to maintain the Balance in their own quiet way, but the work never ends. Nothing's ever over.”

   “That's awfully fuzzy.”

   “Do you think that Hamor, with more than five hundred iron-hulled warships, will sit back if we destroy this small fleet and their small armies?”

   “You think we should give up?” He shook his head. “Then blind chance wins.” I needed to think. It should have been clear, but clear thinking isn't easy when I'm upset, and I'd received two shocks in almost as many days. “How is Mother?”

   “She's fine. She sends her love. So do Elisabet and Sardit. He told me that you'd better mark all your pieces so that future collectors wouldn't have to argue whether something you'd done was a genuine Lerris.” He chuckled. “Your crafting may well outlast anything else you do. That's something I tell your mother about her pottery. I don't have anything like that.” My father, envying us for our crafts? As I tried to gather myself together again, I heard steps. My father looked up and saw Justen walking into the dining hall with Tamra. “Justen!”

   “Well, look what the light dragged in.” Justen grinned. “ Speak for yourself.”

   They hugged, as though it had not been long years since they had seen each other.

   Tamra looked at them, and her eyes began to water. Then she turned away. I walked over beside her. “It's all right.” She kept her face averted and shook her head. “You have a family...”

   So I patted her shoulder. “I'm glad you suggested I write.”

   “Lerris... will you ever learn?”

   Learn what? I sighed.

   “Not all tears are sad.” She wiped her face. “I'm glad they got back together.”

   As if to confuse things, Krystal came back through the door. Everyone turned to her and waited.

   “The autarch is meeting with some ministers at the moment. She would like to meet with all of us in the small dining hall after lunch.” Krystal walked over between the four of us. “I have to meet with Subrella for a bit.”

   “Gunnar looks as if he could freshen up,” said Justen. “Then I'll show him around. You won't mind, will you, Lerris? You've seen him far more recently than I have.”

   “No.” I forced a smile over my confusion.“That's fine.” I watched as the two men left.

   Krystal and Tamra watched me.

   “Dazed, wouldn't you say?” asked Tamra.

   “It's good for him.” Krystal nodded and said to me, “I'll see you in the small dining hall.”

   So I watched her leave as well.

   “I promised Weldein I'd spar with him.” With that, Tamra was gone, and I stood alone in the empty dining hall.

   Feeling somewhere between abandoned and useless, I wandered out to the courtyard and stripped off my shirt and began to exercise. After a while I sparred against Haithen, Berli, and Dercas, although Jinsa shamed him into it, by telling him that he didn't have enough nerve to face a staff with a wand.

   Nerve or no, he was good, not that any but the best would have been Krystal's guards.

   Then I washed up and grabbed some bread and strong yellow cheese for a midday meal.

   Krystal and the autarch weren't in the small dining hall when I got there, but Justen, my father, and Tamra were. So was Dayala, and she sat between Tamra and Justen. There were also pitchers and mugs on the table, and I poured a glass of redberry and sat down.

   Just as I'd thought I'd finally figured out some things, everyone was treating me as if I knew nothing at all-or that what I knew didn't matter in the slightest.

   “Going to be quite a gathering,” observed Justen, lifting a mug of the dark ale that only he drank, though Krystal might when she arrived.

   “You're still drinking that swill?” asked my father with a smile.

   “I could ask the same of you,” pointed out Justen. “It's good ale. It tastes good. There's no point in drinking anything else.”

   The door opened, and both Krystal and the autarch entered, without guards, although I could see several station themselves outside the door before Krystal closed it. The autarch seated herself at the end of the table, and Krystal sat to her right, almost across from me.

   The room, with only high windows, was getting warm, and I wiped my forehead.

   “I understand you are a weather mage.” The autarch looked at my father.

   “Yes.”

   “You wish to help us? Why?”

   “For two reasons.” He smiled. “Lerris is my son, and this is his land. Second, by helping you, I hope to help Recluce.”

   Kasee nodded. “I said I would make a decision several days ago, and I delayed that on the advice of the druid. Dayala convinced me that any decision would be premature, and I can see that she was right.” She paused. “A decision is still necessary.”

   I tried not to fidget in my chair, hard as the wood felt under my trousers.

   “How much warning can you provide us, Mage?” she asked my father.

   “At least a little over two days, perhaps longer. Their steam cruisers can travel the distance between Worrak and Ruzor in a little over two days, if the seas are not rough. That does not mean they will attack immediately when they arrive.”

   “We understand that.” She turned to me.“How long will it take you to reach the mid-point in the Lower Easthorns?”

   “I haven't traveled the whole route from here, but if the maps and the reports are right, between five and six days.”

   “Could you move an army that fast, Commander?”

   “Possibly,” answered Krystal.

   “Any faster?”

   “No.”

   “It would appear that our decisions are made for us. We cannot risk having the bulk of our forces as much as ten days' travel from Ruzor. Tomorrow morning, the mages will begin their travel, with a small escort and some messengers, to the Lower Easthorns-”

   “I beg your pardon,” interrupted my father politely, waiting.

   “Yes, Mage Gunnar?”

   “I have little in the way of abilities to add to those of Justen or Lerris, not in a conflict so far from the ocean. Nor does the mage Tamra, although she already has considerable skill with the weather. As weather mages, we may be able to disrupt, perhaps sink, at least a few Hamorian warships, although the iron-hulled steamships are much harder to damage than ships with sails. For those reasons, I would suggest that we might be able to add to the defenses of Ruzor. While we certainly could not stop all the Hamorian troops from landing, we could reduce their numbers.”

   Kasee looked at Krystal. Krystal shrugged.

   “In that case, the mages Gunnar and Tamra will remain in Ruzor. Otherwise, the plan remains the same.”

   So, from what I could figure, Justen, Dayala, and I were headed north and east, while my father and Tamra were to help Krystal hold Ruzor.