I shook my head again. “No… you don’t understand. This is so much better than anything I could do.”
Faslik gaped. So did Wegel.
“I can make furniture, and I know it’s good, but… art like this…” I looked at Wegel. “If you want to work hard, I’ll teach you what I know about woods, and crafting. It’s often very hard, and it has to be done right. I don’t like sloppy work. And sometimes, it’s just plain messy. A crafter’s shop has to be kept clean, and we have to wash it a lot to keep the dust down. Will that be a problem?” I watched his face.
“N-nn-noo… m-mm-ü-ll… clean.”
He looked at his father.
So did I. “With your blessing…”
“You don’t have to, Master Lerris.” The millwright looked down.
“Don’t have to?” I laughed.‘ Together, we could do things I’ve only dreamed about. I’ve sent word all over Kyphrien that I needed an apprentice, and I never looked among those who work most closely with the woods.“ I swallowed. ”But… would… I mean, what about the mill?“
“Bro… brothers…” stammered Wegel.
“His brothers…”
Faslik’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the apprentice fee?”
I shook my head again. “No… it would be good if you would help him with a few tools, though. I really don’t have enough for two.”
“Everyone says you’re a good man, even if you’re an outlander and a wizard,” Faslik said slowly.
“I don’t eat apprentices, and there will probably be times when he’ll have to mind the shop while I’m gone.” I frowned. “You’ll have to bunk with the commander’s guards for a while, until we can build you your own room. They’re not there all the time, but-”
“You be sure about this, Master Lerris?” asked the father. “About his foot…”
“I’m sure. If he can lift your timbers, his foot certainly won’t be a problem. All he needs is one good one for the foot treadle.”
“You be sure…”
“You don’t believe me, draw Rissa aside and ask her.” I handed the carving back to Wegel. “Keep this safe, Wegel.”
Wegel looked at me, eyes wide.
“How soon can you start?”
He shrugged and looked at his father.
“Be taking a bit to work this out, get tools he needs… say an eight-day?”
“Fine.” I smiled at the young man. “I’ll see you in an eight-day.”
“Th-th-thank… y-y-you…”
“I’m glad I found you.”
I was whistling as I walked back to Gairloch, certain that Faslik was shaking his head. Maybe I could even learn about carving by watching Wegel and feeling how he did it. If not, he could carve, and learn cabinetry. Someday, he might even be better than I was.
Gairloch whuffed at me, maybe because I was whistling, or just to put me in my place.
Rissa was out when I returned, probably getting eggs from Brene or flour from Hirst’s mill, or something else that I hadn’t the faintest idea we needed.
I stabled Gairloch and waited until she got back, with a basket of eggs.
“You did not tell me you would need the wagon.”
“I didn’t know whether Faslik had the wood ready.”
“Will the commander be here for dinner?”
“She said she would. I haven’t heard otherwise.”
“Strange it is, cooking here.” She shook her head and walked into the kitchen.
I climbed up on the wagon and flicked the reins.
When I got to the mill, Wegel loaded every scrap of wood as though it were gold. If I could have caught his face in a carving, it would have made me an immortal artist, but I couldn’t, and I didn’t.
I did say, “I hope you like working with me. It’s not always easy.”
He just looked down for a moment. Finally, he handed me the carving. I couldn’t refuse, but I decided it would still be his-that I would only hold it for safekeeping.
I could see the tears seep down his face when I looked back, and I felt as if my own eyes were burning. How terrible it must be to be so overjoyed that just a single person valued your skills.
When I got back to the house, I put the carving on the table in the bedroom. I wanted Krystal to see it first. Then I unloaded the wood.
Perron and Krystal entered the stable while I was still grooming the cart mare.
“Don’t you ever stop?”
At least she was smiling, and I hugged her.
“Where have you been?”
“Getting wood for my next projects…”
“The lady’s desk?”
“And the spice merchant’s chest,” I added, setting aside the curry brush and closing the stall door.
We groomed her mount together, and then washed up while Rissa set out the dinner. Except I lit the big lantern and then washed up, but she wasn’t finished, and she stood and watched as I shaved.
Perron and the three guards waited until we returned and sat down at the table.
“Did anything interesting happen to you at the mill?” asked Krystal.
“Well, I did find an apprentice…”
Rissa gave me an appraising look as she set the big pot on the wooden server in the middle of the table. “Where did you find such a wonder?”
Perron just looked at the loaves of bread in the basket that Rissa had left by the oven. Jinsa grinned at Dercas.
“At Faslik’s… Wegel-his youngest.”
“Ah… the one who carves…” murmured Rissa.
“You knew about him?”
“He is a carver. Was I to know that you wanted a carver, an artist?” She shrugged as if to indicate that somehow I had failed to communicate.
“Rissa…” I began.
Jinsa laughed softly. Krystal shook her head, and I stopped talking. Nothing I said would change Rissa’s mind.
“You can’t win,” mouthed Perron.
“He’ll start in about an eight-day
“Will he be happy doing the drudgery that goes with woodworking?” asked Krystal.
“I don’t know, but he’s doing drudgery at the mill for his father. Here, at least some of his carving will go into things people use.” I cleared my throat, and took a sip of the cold water. We’d run out of redberry, and at the out - of - season prices I wasn’t about to buy more. “You’re the one who said I needed an apprentice.”
“I did, and I am glad you’ll have someone else to help. Just don’t take it as an excuse to go off doing wizardry.”
“Me? I’d rather stay home and do wizardry.” I ladled out a heaping dish of yet another variety of goat stew for Krystal, highly spiced, then one for myself, before passing the ladle to Jinsa, who took an even bigger helping. I looked at Krystal, hoping to change the subject. “Have you heard anything from the olive growers?” Olive growers came to mind because I’d delivered the chairs to Hensil.
“The olive growers are worried about pirates. So are the wool merchants. They claim that the autarch cannot protect their shipments to Biehl or to Jera, let alone to Nordla.”
“The autarch isn’t responsible for the sea. Does she even have a fleet?”
“That was the point,” said my consort after swallowing a mouthful of stew and washing away the steam with a mug of dark ale.
“Oh… you think Hamor is planting the idea that rulers should be able to protect their trade anywhere?”
Her mouth full again, Krystal nodded.
“So… next the autarch will hear from the handful of copper miners? Or will it be the vintners in the south?”
“The vintners were in to see the autarch last eight-day,” Perron said dryly.
I glanced at Krystal. She nodded.
I decided to eat, and reached for the bread.
After dinner, I followed Krystal into the bedroom, lit the lamp with my striker, and watched as the light fell over the carving of the ancient angel.
“Lerris… where? It’s beautiful…”
“It’s no
t ours, but I’m keeping it for Wegel.”
“Wegel?”
“He gave it to me because I wanted him for an apprentice. It’s too good for me to take.”
Krystal looked at me, and moisture seeped from the comers of her eyes. “I love you, you know.”
“Why?”
“Just because. Because you see, and because you care.” Then she hugged me, and I held her for a time. Finally, she stepped away.
“I need to get out of this uniform.” Even as she spoke, Krystal sat down, pulled off her boots, and tossed them into the corner. Then she stripped off her uniform, and, in rather efficient motions, pulled a robe around her before she plopped herself on the bed, propped up against the headboard.
I was still standing there in my trousers.
“Anything else new today?” I managed to ask.
“Not much. Berfir and Colaris are still at it, but there’s something happening in Certis.”
“How did you find out?”
“Kasee got a travel-scroll-unsigned, but probably from Justen.”
“Justen?” I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off my boots. The thigh still hurt. When was I ever going to learn?
“He and Tamra are on their way to Montgren. The scroll said that the Viscount is making something disturbing, and to watch the borders.”
“So very helpful,” I grumbled. “Just like Justen.”
Krystal raised an eyebrow. Lying there on the bed, she looked so desirable, yet distant, warm yet cool, competent yet vulnerable.
I stopped talking and looked. Then I did more than look. I eased up beside her and kissed her.
Her lips were warm for a moment before she eased away and asked me, “Have you noticed that Justen disappears whenever things seem to get dangerous?”
“I don’t think it’s fear.”
Krystal pursed her lips, and I brushed them with mine.
“You are impossible.” She smiled and kissed me back, just kissed me for a time. Then she reached over and twisted down the lamp wick.
“You’re the impossible one, woman.”
“What I want is very possible.”
I didn’t argue.
LIII
SMOKE DRIFTED ACROSS the small valley, smoke heavy with the odor of brimstone and nitre, and the rattling sounds of rifle discharges echoed back up along the hillside trail where the two riders paused.
Justen surveyed the smoke-shrouded land. On the eastern hillside controlling the road from Montgren into Certis, cyan banners flew from staffs planted in the earthen barriers before the trenchworks. On the trampled grass of the hillside, once a meadow for sheep, lay dark figures in green or with green sashes.
“The Viscount’s troops are getting slaughtered. The idiots,” said Tamra.
“For getting slaughtered? I doubt they had much choice,” reflected Justen.
“They could have just let Colaris’s troops head into Hydlen.”
“Pride often triumphs over rationality,” said Justen dryly.
As they watched, the green banners waved, and another wave of pikes struggled up the hillside. The rattling fire of the rifles increased, and pikes and troopers fell in uneven rows across the bloody grass. Then all but one green banner dropped. The pike line broke, and more figures lay sprawled across the slope.
“Pride,” snorted Tamra. “They’re not even trying to use wizardry against the rifles. They could try.”
“Those cartridges are made of steel, and no one except a strong chaos wizard could ignite them, and no strong wizard would choose to work for the Viscount.”
“You think that Colaris will take over Certis and Hydlen?”
“He has an advantage now.” Justen shook his head. “Before long, they’ll all be using rifles with cartridges-if Hamor will supply them.”
“If not?”
“The Emperor may send his own troops, and this will seem like a pleasant excursion by comparison.”
“Are you sure?” Tamra snorted. “Won’t they all huddle behind trenchworks, and nothing will happen?”
“Hardly. The way things are going, we’ll probably see big cannon hauled in.” He lifted the reins, and Rosefoot carried him westward. “And things will get even worse. They usually do, I’ve found.”
After a frown and then a long glance back at the smoke-covered valley, Tamra urged her mount to follow Justen. She frowned, and a slight breeze swirled around her, providing a momentary respite.
LIV
KRYSTAL, AND HER guards, left early the morning of my audience with the autarch and the envoy from Hamor, an audience scheduled for just before noon, and one to which I was not looking forward.
After brushing and feeding Gairloch, I went out to the shop and surveyed the layout. If Wegel were to have space to work, I needed to rearrange some of the benches-and the wood I had picked up from Faslik for Antona’s desk and Durrik’s chest. It took a while to move everything around. In moving things, I discovered some chisels that needed sharpening, not to mention some wood that I’d tucked behind one of the benches. So when I had things the way I wanted them, it was time to get ready for the audience, and I’d gotten no real crafting done at all.
I washed up and shaved. Shaving scraped my skin, but not shaving made my face itch, especially in the summer and if I worked near the hearth.
When I walked into the kitchen, Rissa looked up. “You look good. Young for a wizard, but wizards can look any way they please… so that is all right.”
“I’m glad you approve of the way I look, since I don’t know of any real way to change it, except by growing a beard, and I hate beards.”
“It would make you look older and more distinguished.”
“No beards.” I broke off a corner of not-quite-stale bread and began to chew. Who knew when I’d get to eat once I got to the autarch’s palace? Matters of state usually took precedence over food.
“Do not get crumbs all over your new grays.”
“They’ll brush off.”
“Master Lerris…”
I finished the bread and brushed off the crumbs, then made my way out to the stable to saddle Gairloch.
Whufff…ufff…ufff…
“Yes, we’re actually going somewhere. Not far, but somewhere.”
The sun was trying to break through the hazy overcast when I climbed on Gairloch, wearing the grays under my brown cloak. I still didn’t have a gray cloak, but the envoy wasn’t about to see my cloak. I had gotten Rissa to sew up the leg that had been buttoned together so that I didn’t feel like quite so much of an invalid.
While the day held a hint of nip, I could almost sense spring building under the brown ground. I was more than ready for it, more than a little tired of the cold rains and ice, although the deep snowfalls had been few indeed, mostly during the time I had been recovering from my encounter with Gerlis.
I stayed away from the market square, going down the artisans’ street instead, wishing, in a way, that I could afford the jewelry I glimpsed between the bars of the goldsmith’s window. Krystal couldn’t wear it in uniform, but I would have liked to have been able to give her something that wasn’t a necessity.
Shaking my head, I rode on to the autarch’s palace, still concerned about jewelry I didn’t even know she wanted or would wear.
Haithen was mounted and waiting outside the gates. “You have a stall in the Finest’s stables.”
“Since when?”
“Since we all decided that it was stupid for you to stable Gairloch with the mounts of all those clerks and functionaries. You’re more of a fighter than a courtier.” She grinned at me. “I knew that from the beginning. It took longer for the others to find out.”
I followed her to the rear stables, a slightly longer walk back to Krystal’s quarters, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the uppity ostler in the front stables.
“Should have done this a long time ago,” said the bull-necked woman who ran the guard stables. “No sissy wizard here.”
Compared
to her, I felt rather slight in build, but I nodded. “I do appreciate it. Gairloch would be more at home here. So am I.”
“Thought so.”
Haithen remounted and saluted before riding somewhere, and I crossed the well-swept stones of the yard between the stables and the main barracks.
Several guards nodded to me. Some, like Jinsa, I knew. Others I didn’t. Weldein glanced at me as I passed him in the corridor, his collar showing the silver pin of a squad leader. “You’re not quite so stiff, Master Lerris.”
“Next time, I’ll let you lead the charge. Or maybe I’ll make you Tamra’s permanent sparring partner.”
He did grin, after a fleeting expression of surprise, and I nodded and continued on to Krystal’s door, where Herreld stood squarely. Some things hadn’t changed, but, in a way, I was glad that he protected her access so carefully.
“Is she ready for me, Herreld?”
“I will check, Order-master.”
“Thank you, Herreld.”
He reappeared instantly. “She asked if you would wait just a few moments. She is meeting with Kyldesee and Finance Minister Mureas.”
“Under the circumstances, it’s better we both stay out here.”
Herreld actually gave me a faint smile.
Shortly, the blocky Mureas emerged, her square-cut white hair glued in place, followed by a younger woman, also with square-cut hair-brown-wearing the greens of the Finest.
I nodded politely. “Good day, Minister Mureas.”
I got a curt nod in return from the minister, and the two were gone.
Herreld gave the faintest of headshakes, and Krystal motioned me into her office/palace quarters.
Only when the door was shut did she shake her head. “I hate that…”
“Mureas leaning on you?” I kissed her cheek.
“She was expressing her concern that the Finest were not employing Kyldesee’s talents to the degree possible.” Krystal grimaced. “Kyldesee can handle a blade fairly well; she’s a decent squad leader; and a first-class light-finger. Yelena still hasn’t figured out where all the coins went while Kyldesee was in charge of the Ruzor district.”
Krystal’s table was heaped high with scrolls, and so was the bed in her sleeping quarters. One lamp mantle was sooty, the sign of oil having burned down too many times without the reservoir being cleaned.
The Death of Chaos Page 30
