“The Emperor does recognize the power of knowledge. Knowledge can change the world, and doubtless that is what you hoped, even expected.” The envoy sets his carefully folded coat across the back of the crude wooden chair. “In fact, you might even have been said to have ensured it.”
“It was clear that Begnula was on your payroll. Knowledge I provided somehow appeared in Hamorian form before it was ever used in Freetown, and that says a great deal when that knowledge must travel the oceans.”
“I am what I say, an envoy of the Emperor,” mock-protests Leithrrse.
“Who was born in Recluce and who has adopted the Hamorian form of naming.”
“I remain the envoy of the Emperor.”
“Then, perhaps you will do me a favor.” Sammel turns his back to Leithrrse. “Take one of those metal cartridges and place it on the hearth-away from the fire.”
“As you wish.” The shorter, slender man extracts the metal cylinder from his belt and sets it on the stone, stepping back past the chair that holds his cloak.
Sammel’s eyebrows lift, and a thin funnel of white appears around the cartridge.
Wwhhhhssstttt!!! A cone of flame flares upward and vanishes. White smoke swirls around where the cartridge had been. When the smoke dissipates, no sign of the cartridge remains, only a smear of blackness on the stone.
Although a film of perspiration coats Leithrrse’s forehead, he does not reach for the linen handkerchief folded inside his tunic.
Sammel smiles. “Now, you may continue.”
“For all your recent wealth and for all your power”- Leithrrse gestures around the cottage-“this is still a cottage, and only a handful of people know of your prowess.”
“Public reputation is scarcely desirable for a mage,” returns Sammel dryly. “Private recognition and remuneration, yes, but not public acknowledgment.”
The envoy’s brows knit for an instant, before he laughs. “You surprise me. I thought you would protest. I thought you would claim you do what you do solely for the love of knowledge.”
“Love of knowledge and a desire for remuneration do not exclude each other.” Sammel walks toward the hearth and frowns. The black splotch on the stone vanishes. “Especially as one grows older.”
“I understand that,” admits Leithrrse, holding up a hand. “And so do you. Recluce does not. Let me be frank, since you appear to appreciate that. If you remain here, certainly Recluce will send someone after you. How many times in the past has knowledge been discovered, and then extinguished by the black isle?”
“More than a few.” Sammel’s voice remains dry. His eyes flicker to the tube gun mounted on the wall.
“In fact,” continues Leithrrse, his eyes following Sammel’s, “it appears that the black mages may have preceded me.” He clears his throat, then continues when Sammel does not speak. “Powerful as you clearly are, alone you are vulnerable. You have to sleep at some point. Now… the Emperor is a great supporter of knowledge, and Hamor would be far more receptive to what you offer.”
“At least so long as my knowledge furthers his conquests?”
“My, you are cynical.” Leithrrse inclines his head slightly.
“No more so than you. Recluce does breed a certain caution.”
“You wish to see knowledge available to all, and you wish some limited recognition and more than limited remuneration. Why not help accomplish all these at once? Become the head of the great Library at Luba.”
For a moment, Sammel continues to look out upon the land beyond the window, where areas of browned grass are beginning to appear through the snow. “If the Emperor’s other voice-the other envoy-is willing to make such a proposal, I might… might consider it.”
“I will have to discuss it with him.”
“Do so.”
“I will, Honored Mage. In the interim, you might consider that the Library would be less able to afford a new supervisor if the cost of the conquest of Candar becomes prohibitive.” Leithrrse bows, then extends a leather pouch. “A token of esteem and recognition. Just a token.”
“I am honored.”
“The Emperor would hope that you would honor him.” The envoy reclaims his cloak.
“You speak well, Leithrrse, and so does your coin.” Sammel laughs softly.
“Knowledge is always valuable, and only a fool disregards its value. The Emperor has high regard for knowledge, and is certainly no fool.” The envoy smiles. “After all, I am here, offering recognition of such a regard.” Leithrrse rums at the doorway and bows a last time.
“I appreciate your interest, Honorable Envoy.” Sammel inclines his head. “I do, and look forward to your return.”
“Good.”
As Leithrrse walks toward his mount, and the troops who have waited, Sammel nods and speaks to himself.“Head librarian… a title better than most… Talryn, you think knowledge can be buried?” He closes the door and laughs. “Or that mages must bow to Recluce or remain penniless?”
LIX
IN SOME WAYS, I was glad Krystal had to stay in Dasir for a while, since I looked and felt like a vulcrow’s carrion for a while. The slashes, cuts, burns, and bruises weren’t that bad- especially not compared to the injuries I’d sustained in Hydlen, but even with some order-mastery and a lot of self-pampering, they still hurt, and ached, and slowed me down. Sometimes I just had to close my eyes to shut out the stabbing, but those spells didn’t last long. I did have to give up the morning staff practice for a few days, and that bothered me because I’d just been getting back to where I was improving.
For a time, I just worked on Durrik’s spice chest, because the golden oak and design were more forgiving than the cherry of Antona’s desk or the dark oak of Minister Zeiber’s case. Besides, Durrik had commissioned his before Zeiber.
I had more than enough time to finish Preltar’s chest- assuming something else didn’t come up, but it doubtless would. Life was turning out that way. Then, maybe it always had, and I just hadn’t realized it.
Two mornings after my encounter with the Balance-I guessed that was as good a description as any-I had just about finished the last of the internal framing for Durrik’s chest and clamped it in place to dry.
I had also finished up the last of the glue, and that meant brewing more.
When I took the pot into the kitchen, Rissa was less than enthused.
“My kitchen is for food, not for smelly glue.”
“This smelly glue is what helps pay for the food.”
“Then I will take the mare and the wagon and fetch some eggs from Brene. We have no chickens, and no eggs. If we had chickens, I would not have to drive through the mud and the rain.”
“No chickens.”
“If we had chickens, I could make chicken soup, and that would be good for your bruises and soreness.” She shook her head. “Wizards. How can a man nearly be killed in his own bed with no one around? I thought the commander lived a dangerous life. It is good you two have each other, for who else would dare to live with you?”
“That might have been a problem.” I put another length of wood into the firebox of the stove.
“A problem? The only thing worse would be two wizards. Why, then, no house would we have. No food, no shelter…”
I stirred the mixture in the pot.
“Already, my kitchen is smelling foul.”
“Not so fowl as it would if we had chickens.”
Rissa mock-glared at me as she pulled a cloak around her. “Wizards!” She headed to the stables. She was strong enough, and knowledgeable enough, and the mare was docile enough, that she had no trouble, for which I was grateful.
I broke off a crust of not-quite-stale bread and chewed on it as I continued to stir. While the afternoon drew on and the pot heated, I watched the liquid swirl, and my thoughts turned to the depths below. In a way, the depths swirled much the way the heating glue did. Was the center of the earth like a huge chaos-fire?
I shivered, not exactly liking the idea that the world was co
mposed of chaos-fire contained by a shell of order. If that were so, of course the Balance would have to hold. If order triumphed, then the world would freeze, and if chaos triumphed, it would explode.
Once I had the glue basically made, I took it back to the shop, and began to measure and cut more of the framework pieces for Antona’s desk. I tried to keep in mind Sardit’s admonitions about measuring twice before cutting-“Measure twice; cut once. Measure once; cut twice-and waste wood.”
Cutting matching lengths exactly is important because trying to trim off fractions of a span can bruise or splinter the wood, and I certainly wasn’t in a position to waste high-priced wood. It was a long afternoon, and I didn’t go out when Rissa returned, just kept on with trying to be exact.
With my various aches and pains, I was slow-and careful-and hadn’t even quite finished when I heard the second set of hoofs. I racked the wood and headed out to the yard, pausing to light the big lantern on the way.
There was a splotch of mud on Krystal’s cheek. She looked wonderful, and I gave her a big smile.
“What on earth happened to you?” Her eyes raked over the healing blisters on my face. “Did you put sawdust in the hearth?” She swung out of the saddle and onto the ground, wincing as she did.
“I wish it had been that painless.”
I took the reins and led her mount toward the stable, again conscious of the dull aches that seemed to surround me.
Perron followed closely, with his mount, and Haithen wasn’t all that far behind.
“Well?” asked Krystal gently, brushing my cheek with her lips, as if she were almost afraid to touch my blistered skin.
“It’s not a long story, but”-I looked over my shoulder- “more than a few people seem to want to know. Could I wait a bit until we eat?”
Krystal raised her eyebrows. I sighed as I tied her mount-a black gelding this time-in place in the stall. Krystal undid the cinch as I reached for the brush.
“All right,” I began.
“No… don’t let me hurry you.”
I glared at her, and she grinned.
“The simple answer is that I got caught in the workings of the Balance.” I began to brush the gelding.
“Where did you go?”
“That’s the worst part. I didn’t go anywhere.”
“The rest of us have to travel to find trouble. I thought you’d be half-safe here.” She sat down on a bale of hay.
“You need to eat. You look exhausted.”
“I am tired.”
I glanced at Perron over the stall wall, but he looked away. I finished the mare with a too-quick brushing, and we walked out of the stable and across the yard to the house.
“Noodles and sauce-that is all I can fix when no one tells me anything,” protested Rissa.
“That will be fine,” we both said. Then we looked at each other and smiled.
“Noodles… it is not fine. If we had chickens, now…”
“No chickens…”
“If we had chickens, a real meal with no notice, it might be made…”
I kept walking toward the washroom. So did Krystal.
In the washroom, she eased out of the vest, gingerly.
“What happened to you?” I let my senses range across her body, but I didn’t have to probe much to find the slash/bruise on her left shoulder. “How did that happen?” Even as I talked, I let some order flow into the area, around which the slightest hint of chaos flickered. How had I missed her wound? Was it because I had been too wrapped up in my own injuries?
“That feels good.”
“Good. Now, what happened?”
Krystal eased out of her shirt, and I tried not to wince at the slash and the bruise-or the crude stitches. Instead, my fingertips brushed the wound again, forcing out chaos infection.
She started to shrug, then thought the better of it. I pumped more water, and began to sponge her off, gently, very gently.
“We had a problem in Matisir, not Dasir. This subleader, a woman named Frinekl, basically ambushed the local outliers’ leader. Ustrello, I think. She claimed he’d tried to rape her, and that she’d defended herself.”
“Nasty business.” I frowned, trying to recall Ustrello. “He was older. I met him, and his consort. He didn’t seem the type, but I suppose you never know.” I kept sponging and patting.
“Ooooo…”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted to get home…”
She had turned pasty, and I sat her on the stool, patted her dry and loosely wrapped my robe from the peg on the door around her.
“You need to eat.” I offered a shade more order, not that I still had much to spare, but it removed some of the gray from her face, and helped her back into the kitchen, where I took the bread off the table and broke a chunk for her.
Rissa took a look at me, then Krystal, before saying, “The noodles will not be too long, but here is some cheese, the white kind.”
Krystal ate bread and cheese, and sipped some cold water, slowly, silently, as the guards straggled in and sat around the table. Finally, she pushed away the last crust. “That’s enough for now.”
I touched her wrist again, but she seemed a little stronger.
“What happened with Ustrello?”
“He died before anyone else got there.” Krystal took a slow even breath. “This Frinekl… it makes me so mad…”
“What happened,” said Perron apologetically, “is that the bitch played on the commander’s sympathies until the commander happened to examine the leader’s body closely.”
“He couldn’t have been facing her,” Krystal said. “And he could have been running away, but the footprints didn’t fit that. Nothing fit, and when I asked her, she picked up Ustrello’s sword-to demonstrate-she said… stupid, I was just stupid.”
Perron shook his head. So did I.
“No one else would have stood a chance,” added Haithen. “The commander had to kill her on the spot, of course.”
“Stupid bitch,” muttered Jinsa.
“I should have seen it,” repeated Krystal.
“There are lots of things we should see and don’t.” I reached out under the table and squeezed her thigh, just to reassure her, and because her arm wasn’t in any shape to be touched. Krystal hadn’t seen Frinekl’s deception because of the events that had led to Krystal’s own exile from Recluce.
“There’s truth to that,” stated Rissa as she put the noodles and sauce on the table and the rest of the bread, and more cheese. The guards waited until Krystal and I took a helping, although Krystal only took a small one.
We did not linger long at table, nor did the guards. Everyone was yawning-except Rissa. Tired or not, the four guards had ensured that the noodles and sauce had disappeared, as though by chaos magic. Dercas and Jinsa left first, then Perron and Haithen.
“Shoo!” was all Rissa said, and it was all we needed.
When I had shut the bedroom door, and lit the lamp, Krystal sat on the edge of the bed. I pulled off her boots, knowing bending over would hurt her.
“New bed linens,” Krystal observed.
“The old ones got a little warm. But since you’re such a skeptical woman…” I pulled down the charred sheet and quilt from the top of the wardrobe, and laid them out across the new quilt. I hadn’t been that thrilled with the broken-wheel pattern on the new one, but that was all Rissa had been able to find.
“Oh… Lerris.” She forced a smile. “What were you doing that was that hot in bed?”
“Not what I’d like to have been doing.” It was a little forced, but she needed it, and so did I.
She looked at the quilt again.
“Let’s get you off your feet and into bed, and I’ll tell you.”
“You don’t look any too healthy yourself, Mastercrafter.”
So we pulled off clothes and put them where we could and curled into the cold newer linens and quilt.
“Now?” she asked, with a yawn.
“I was thin
king about the groaning of the house timbers in the wind, and it reminded me of the groaning deep under the brimstone spring. So I sent my order-senses down into the earth, and I discovered that I’m probably an earth wizard. I also discovered that I didn’t know as much as I thought, and that, in some places, careless intruding is the same as upsetting the Balance.”
“Can’t you even be safe in your own bed?” She shook her head slightly, and I stroked her hair.
“Oh… I’ll be safe enough now. I just had to pay for the privilege.”
“We’re always paying for something.”
“We always will be.”
“I’m tired of paying.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that. She had paid more than I had, a great deal more. Instead of speaking, I kissed her cheek. Then I lay beside her and held her hand.
“I don’t see you for days, and when I do, neither one of us is worth a demon’s damn.” Her words were low.
She sighed, softly, and I squeezed her hand again, then kissed her cheek, and lay there as she dropped off to sleep.
Grrrurrrrr… rrrrr…
The faint rumbling I heard was not in the timbers, for the winds were still, and the night quiet. Should I investigate-send my senses out? I licked my lips, and Krystal rolled over, snuggling against me and I put an arm around her.
“Mmmmmmm…” Her breathing smoothed out and lightened.
Had the earth always rumbled, and I hadn’t been aware enough to sense it?
Finally, gently, I let my senses creep into the depths, slipping around the intertwinings of order and chaos.
I never did reach the source of the deep groaning and heaving, but I could tell it originated somewhere to the northeast, probably beyond Freetown and in Sligo. There was so much I didn’t know, and that wasn’t so bad, except that every time I learned something, I learned that there was even more I didn’t know.
After hugging Krystal again, with care to avoid her bruised and slashed arm, I rolled over onto my own unbruised side and slept.
The Death of Chaos Page 34
