The Order War (53 page)

“You’re either great or truly order-mad, and I can’t say which.” Altara offered a grim smile. “Maybe it makes no difference. Do you mind if I stay?”

The marines drew up closer to the land engine as two dockers slowly walked from the port-master’s office toward the end of the pier.

“No. I respect you, Altara, but I have to do what I feel must be done.”

“That is an interesting choice of words—‘must be done.’”

“Sometimes there aren’t any really good choices.” Justen watched as the
Llyse
eased up to the pier.

The dockers avoided the land engine, and Justen could sense the interest in it by the way the crew of the
Llyse
tended to pause and glance toward it, or to stop opposite the craft for a moment.

As the gangway dropped, Martan stepped up to Justen. “It might be better if I talked to Hyntal first, ser.”

“You know him better than I do, Martan. Do what you can.”

“Thank you, ser.”

Martan bounded up the gangway and seemed to fly up the ladder to the bridge, where he touched the square-faced and tanned captain on the shoulder. He pointed toward Justen and gestured toward the land engine.

“Whatever he’s saying,” observed Gunnar, “he’s certainly enthusiastic.”

The interchange lasted longer than the time it took the crew and dockers to finish securing the
Llyse
, but Martan nodded toward the young engineer and the
Llyse
’s captain
plodded down the gangway toward Justen, his face like stone.

Justen squared his shoulders.

“All right, young Justen,” began Hyntal. “Martan’s told me you’re trying to pull some stunt and that I’m supposed to agree with it.”

“That’s right.” Justen turned to the captain. “I built this land engine, and I need to get it to Candar, preferably somewhere in Lydiar or Hydlen, near a great road. I intend to drive it to Fairhaven and challenge the White Wizards.”

“I thought it might be something that daft.” Hyntal pulled at his chin, his hand almost covering his mouth. “My crew’s due land leave.”

Justen tried to avoid taking a deep breath.

“I see as how that causes you some concern. What am I supposed to do?”

“You have to do what you believe is right, ser,” answered Justen slowly. “Just as I have to.”

“So…” mused the captain. “You’re a-worried about time, aren’t ye?” He frowned and looked at Justen. “Has the Council forbidden this?”

“No, ser. Not—”

“They haven’t forbidden it, you’re sure?” asked Hyntal with a slight smile.

“No, ser.”

Hyntal gestured toward the land engine and Altara. “Why is the chief engineer here?”

“She’s worried. Someone tried to burn down the engineering hall last night in an attempt to destroy the land engine.”

“They did?” Hyntal walked across the stones toward Altara. “Chief Engineer?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“It be true that someone tried to fire the engineering hall last night?”

“They did more than try. There is a great deal of damage.”

“Just to destroy this young fellow’s device?”

“It would seem so.” Altara’s voice was level.

“Has the Council made any statements on this device?”

“We are not aware of any.”

Hyntal nodded, then turned toward the
Llyse
. “Belden! Run out the heavy crane. Get the colliers moving, and lay on the produce. We’re pulling out at noon. Double leave on the return.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“If you will excuse me, Captain,” began Altara, winking at Justen before Hyntal turned back toward her, “I need to return to convey the concerns of the Brotherhood to the Council, and to ask for immediate investigation of the fire. That may take some time. I leave Justen and his engine in your hands.”

“He’ll be safe on board the
Llyse
. Aye, he will.” Hyntal nodded to the chief engineer, then turned to Justen. “Get that toy ready for loading, young fellow. About time someone did something to those White devils. About time…”

Gunnar raised his eyebrows behind the captain’s back. Justen shrugged at his brother. While he did not understand fully Hyntal’s willingness to help him, especially given the trouble it would surely cause, he was not about to raise greater obstacles to his plan—even if the failure to be totally honest with Hyntal was giving him a splitting headache.

“Let’s get all the loose gear out of the seats—” began Justen.

From behind him, Martan’s voice called, “Get your kits stowed as soon as Devor’s squad is clear. Derra and Tynda—take the gangway.”

Justen trudged up the gangway with his pack and Gunnar’s. Behind him, Gunnar carried a crate of loose spares that Justen had found no place to store.

By the time Justen had returned and readied the land engine for lifting, with the coal-bin covers in place, the crane was swinging out over the pier.

“How heavy is that thing?” asked the muscled officer running the crane.

“Right now, say a shade more than two hundred stone.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll need to gear down and use the heavy links.”

The crane returned, more slowly, bearing huge iron links.

Would two of the big clamps fit within each lifting ring,
wondered Justen as the operator lowered the harness that spread the links across a square iron frame.

Although the clamps made a snug fit, Justen and a crewman managed to bolt them in place.

“What is this thing?” asked the woman as she gave a last twist to the clamp nut.

“A steam land engine.”

“Wish I could see it in use.”

“If everything goes right, you will,” promised Justen, stepping away and holding his breath as the crane began to rise and the lifting rings took the entire weight of the machine.

When the iron-tired wheels touched the deck, Justen let out a sigh of relief. The crane operator grinned. “Not as bad as a gun barrel. Better balance. Builder also made those lift rings big enough, and that helps.”

Justen smiled. At least he’d done something right recently. Then he looked at the ropes and chains and the deck rings and sighed, realizing that there was still more to be done.

After chaining the land engine securely to the deck, Justen and Gunnar followed one of the crew to the rear of the
Llyse
, where there was a small compartment with two short bunks and barely enough space to turn around in.

“Guest quarters,” announced the woman with a smile.

Gunnar cocked his head. Justen threw his pack on the lower bunk.

“I wanted that one,” said Gunnar.

“Fine.” Justen picked up his pack and lifted it onto the top one.

“The canvas should be ready for you now,” announced the woman.

“Canvas?” asked Justen.

“You don’t want saltwater running all over your engine, do you?”

“No,” admitted Justen. He turned and followed her back to the deck, where three heavy, oil-canvas tarps lay beside the land engine.

After they finished with the tarps, and after the last of the coal and the last large basket of produce was being hoisted
on board, a wispy-haired man marched down the pier toward the
Llyse
. Yersol followed behind Ryltar.

“Shit…” muttered Justen. He had just lashed the waterproofed canvases in place over the land engine, effectively disguising it from pier-side identification. “Here comes Ryltar.” He yawned.

“Young fellow,” suggested Hyntal from behind the young engineer, “best you go below. The less Ryltar sees, the less trouble he can make.”

Justen glanced at Gunnar, then eased behind the land engine and toward the ladder to the engine room. He stopped where he could watch without being seen.

“Best you come with me, Air Wizard,” ordered Hyntal.

Gunnar followed the captain across the deck and down the gangway to the pier.

“Counselor Ryltar,” said Hyntal, greeting the wispy-haired man at the end of the gangway. “What brings you here?”

Ryltar glanced from Hyntal to Yersol and back, then at the squad of marines lined up along the railing of the
Llyse
. He cleared his throat. “Ah…there seems to have been a fire at the engineering hall last night.”

“So I heard.” Hyntal nodded.

“Reports are that the engineers had built some…device. Some claim that this device embodies chaos magic.”

“We’re safe from that here.” Hyntal gestured to the black iron-plate of the
Llyse
. “White magic wouldn’t last an instant on my ship. No, ser.”

Ryltar took another deep breath.

“It also seems that a young engineer—one Justen by name—may have been involved. The Council is concerned that he should not leave Recluce,” added Yersol smoothly.

Hyntal scratched his head. “I have not seen any announcements from the Council, but seeing as the punishment for bringing chaos to us is banishment—” the captain grinned cheerfully “—should I see the young wretch, and should the Council let me know what to do officially, I’d be more than happy to put him ashore in terrible, chaotic Candar.”

“Ah…” Ryltar blotted his face with a large white hand
kerchief “…I think the Council would be displeased if such an ‘informal’ exile occurred.”

“I believe the Council has repudiated exile, has it not?” asked Gunnar politely.

“Where is your brother, Mage?” snapped Yersol.

“I could not say precisely.” Gunnar shrugged. “But I would be most interested in knowing what your position is with the Council, Yersol. Do you speak for it?”

Yersol flushed.

“I must apologize for my cousin’s enthusiasm, Captain,” offered Ryltar, ignoring Gunnar, “but it is a matter of importance that we find this device and the engineer Justen.”

“I don’t believe I’ve seen anything from the Council on this, Counselor.” Hyntal looked blandly at Ryltar. “If I do, of course I certainly will do everything within my poor powers.”

“Hyntal…I’ll have your ship and you.”

“Counselor…I have always been most obedient to the will of the Council.” Hyntal inclined his head. “And I will obey any orders issued by the full Council.”

Ryltar looked from Hyntal to Gunnar and to the
Llyse
, where the short crane was being dismantled and stowed and where faint smoke puffed from the funnel. “Hyntal, I will have you and your ship, by darkness.”

The counselor turned and marched back down the pier.

“The madder he gets, the better I like it.” The captain scratched his head as he watched Ryltar almost run down the pier toward Nylan. “Still, best we get underway before he beats Claris into signing something.”

“We’re really going, ser?” asked the heavily muscled Belden.

“Yes.” Hyntal nodded. “I don’t know what these young fellows are doing, and I don’t know why. But anything that that stink-cat Ryltar is so worried about can’t be all that bad.” He grinned. “Besides, the last time that young scamp Justen went off to Candar, he and this fuzzy Air Wizard brother of his did more damage to the Whites than anyone else had done in a couple hundred years. None of my family’s done much since my great-great-grandsire, and there’s
a chance to change that.” He gestured to the inshore bollard. “Single up!”

Justen grinned briefly in his hiding place on the ladder leading to the engine room. Perhaps it was just as well that Hyntal had never forgotten his great-great-grandsire.

“What have you found?” asked Beltar.

“You’ve been drinking too much wine,” answered Eldiren.

“I’ll thank you not to comment on my personal habits.”

“Of course, mightiest of mighty High Wizards.” Eldiren looked out from the top of the White tower to the south, toward the low hills that sheltered the great highway.

“Why I don’t dispose of you…”

“Because you know you can, and because you need my honesty. No one else will dare to cross you. So you can’t trust their judgment.”

Beltar coughed and cleared his throat. “Someday…”

“But not now.”

“So exactly what did you discover, O Honest One?”

“The Gray Wizard is on one of their mighty black warships crossing the gulf. He has something on it that seems filled with order.”

“Where are they going?”

“Right now, I don’t know exactly, but they’ll probably land somewhere in eastern Candar—Renklaar, Lydiar, Perdya, maybe Tyrhavven. And I think the Gray Wizard just might be headed here.”

“Here? Fairhaven?”

“I’m only guessing, but if you wait until I know, or you know, it will be too late. One of the really ordered black buildings in Nylan was partly burned, and that ship carries a lot more order than it should.” Eldiren’s eyes dropped to the old center of Fairhaven less than a kay away.

“Why does that mean he’s coming here?” growled Beltar.

“I don’t
know
, but this is the one who spent all that time in Naclos. This is the one who blew all the screeing glasses. He’s on a Recluce warship with something that feels like an order weapon. Isn’t he the one who built all those demon-damned black iron arrows? He’s not exactly our friend, and he’s not running from us. So where else would he go?” Eldiren turned from the vista to face the High Wizard.

“You’re the diviner. You tell me. Don’t ask me questions,” snapped Beltar.

“Fine. He’s coming here, and he has some plan to attack Fairhaven. What are you going to do?”

“I told you not to ask me questions. Besides, what could one ship do—even if by a miracle he transported the whole ship to Fairhaven?”

“I don’t think you’d want that. I suggest you convene the Council.”

“Couldn’t I just ignore these Blacks…or Grays…or whatever they are? At least until I know what’s going to happen.”

“You’ve got one problem with that, Beltar. By the time you know what is going to happen, it will be too late to call the Council.” Eldiren waited.

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing is ever certain.”

“Thank you.” Beltar sneered.

“My pleasure.”

“Then perhaps we had better call in some of the powerful, even Histen, but not all of them.”

“If you call for the Council, who will you leave out?”

Beltar shrugged. “Fine. Call them all. But bring in the closest Iron Guards—and that fellow from Recluce. Maybe he knows some way to stop them.”

“As you wish. But do you want them in the city?”

“I’m not that dense. How about…oh, find some place, like the old southern barracks. You know what’s necessary.”

Eldiren nodded.

“And you’d better be right, Eldiren, or I’ll make you
Derba’s assistant. He’d fry you before breakfast.”

“Even you aren’t that obtuse.”

“Try me.” Beltar turned away.

Eldiren took a long, slow breath.