The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Both Wegel and I were tired, long before I lit the big lantern, and long before Krystal rode in, but he kept working and so did I-but only until I heard the horses.

  Krystal looked tired, too, and I could sense the dull aching in her arm as she dismounted.

  “Long day?”

  She shook her head, and I hugged her gently. Then she looked down at the tracks in the yard. “You had visitors today.”

  Wegel smiled from the kitchen door, as did Rissa.

  I gave a wry grin. “Antona. She was not totally pleased, I think, at my progress on her desk-even if she did say something about being surprised at how much I had done given my exploits. At least, she didn’t come two eight-days earlier.”

  “Sometimes darkness does favor you, Lerris.” She shook her head, taking the reins and leading the black gelding toward the stable.

  “Sometimes?” asked Jinsa from the shadows.

  “You want to be ‘favored’ the way he was in Hydlen, Jinsa?” asked Haithen.

  “I take that back.”

  “You’d better,” said Perron with a half-laugh.

  After I helped groom the gelding, both Krystal and I washed up, and then headed for the kitchen. My stomach was growling. So was Krystal’s.

  “A long time since you ate?” I asked.

  “Breakfast.” Krystal sank into the chair at the end of the table. “I need to enjoy this while I can. The demon’s hell has opened up in Freetown.”

  “Not that it could happen to a finer place.” Rissa set the platter of sliced mutton on the table, and followed it with a bowl heaped high with noodles and a dark gravy. “What with all those dukes that love to fight and kill.”

  The four guards leaned forward, but waited for us to serve ourselves.

  Krystal helped herself, and I followed before passing the platter to Wegel and asking, “What happened in Freetown?”

  “Hamor. Nearly threescore ships and five thousand troops. They executed Colaris.”

  “Executed him?” I asked.

  “Good stuff,” mumbled Dercas, grabbing for the bread.

  “If it’s hot, you think it’s good,” said Jinsa. “This is really good. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

  “I do,” said Haithen quietly, giving me a wink.

  Krystal caught the wink and smiled.

  Haithen swallowed and flushed.

  “I understand,” was all Krystal said, but the hand in her lap reached across and squeezed my thigh.

  “Understand what?” mumbled Dercas.

  “Like every man, you miss it all.” Jinsa laughed.

  “What about Freetown?” I asked.

  Krystal shrugged. “We don’t know everything. Hamor pulled its long guns from Colaris’s troops-the ones fighting Berfir. Most of the officers left, and the troops retreated. Who wants to get killed fighting for a dead duke? The better officers and their forces have thrown in with Hamor. The others have scattered, but Berfir is, or was, marching toward Freetown. Maybe he thinks he can take the place before Hamor is fully in control. I don’t know.” She stopped and took a long deep swallow of the ale.

  “This makes things difficult for you.”

  “You don’t know how difficult. With all those Hamorian ships, I can’t pull troops out of Ruzor. Do we reinforce the port and hope we don’t need the troops along the Little Easthorns?” Krystal set the mug down.

  “Do you think the Prefect of Gallos will try something?”

  “I don’t think so. Then, I knew Hamor was up to something, but I hadn’t figured on an invasion of Freetown. It makes sense, though.”

  “How?” asked Perron quietly.

  Krystal took another pull of ale before answering. “Colaris had all his forces out to the south trying to stop Berfir. Because Hamor was providing the long guns and supplies, no one probably paid much attention to the first Hamorian ships, and by the time they did, it was too late.”

  “A lot of the folks in Freetown probably weren’t all that fond of Duke Colaris anyway,” added Rissa.

  “After what he did to Duke Holloric’s people, I can’t possibly see why,” said Haithen dryly.

  “Good sauce,” mumbled Dercas.

  “All you think about is food,” said Jinsa.

  “Got to eat.” Dercas sounded indignant. “Can’t do much about invasions and ships. I can enjoy food, though.”

  Rissa nodded, and I had to agree with at least part of what he said.

  “Going to be a real mess around Freetown,” observed Perron.

  “I hope we don’t have to head there anytime soon.” Haithen broke off a chunk of bread.

  Krystal ate deliberately, without speaking, and even her strokes with her knife were slow, a sure sign that she was exhausted.

  “Think Berfir will pull back once the Hamorians get organized?” Dercas spat out bread fragments with the question.

  “Dercas!” snapped Jinsa. “You’re disgusting.”

  “That’s being too nice,” added Haithen.

  “Autarch doesn’t pay me to be nice… pays me to fight and guard the commander.”

  “Enough.” Perron broke off a corner of bread with a crack.

  Wegel seemed to sink lower with each bite of lamb and noodles, and dinner was over before long.

  Krystal trudged to the bedroom, and I followed.

  “You’re going to Ruzor, then?” After helping her pull off her boots, I set them in the corner by the wardrobe.

  “Before long. It makes sense.”

  I understood. Except for the south, all Kyphros’s borders were defined by mountains, and much of the terrain near those borders was less than hospitable. The Little Easthorns were the least defensible, but even the new Prefect of Gallos probably wasn’t insane enough to start another war with Kyphros with the Empire of Hamor knocking at the door.

  With the size of the Hamorian fleet, Ruzor was clearly the most vulnerable point, and Kasee had less than a handful of ships, none really more than steam-powered and armed merchant ships.

  I thought for a moment. “Kyphros really can’t be the first target.”

  “No. Hamor will take the trading ports first, then slowly choke the rest of us.”

  “It’ll take a long time to choke Kyphros.”

  “That’s why Kasee’s worried.”

  “Oh.” I understood, or I thought I did. By the time Hamor got to Kyphros, Kasee would have no allies and no negotiating room. And Leithrrse would know that-so Hamor could put a lot of early pressure. If Kasee refused to submit, then Hamor would make an example-assuming the Emperor were successful in overrunning the rest of eastern Candar. If he could put nearly threescore ships in the Great North Bay, I didn’t have any doubts that there were a lot more ships and men on the way-and a lot more cannon and cartridges. “She won’t negotiate. She can’t.”

  “No. She’ll hope for a miracle.”

  I didn’t like that, especially since people in Kyphros looking for miracles seemed to head in my direction.

  “There’s another problem that might affect you,” she added.

  “I need another problem. I really do.”

  “One of Kasee’s more reliable sources says that the Hamorian envoy has made several visits to Sammel.” Krystal struggled out of her leathers.

  “That’s interesting.” What was I supposed to do about that? If Krystal wanted some help in Ruzor… that was one thing, but wandering all over Candar wasn’t going to finish desks and chests or bring in the coins to keep things going. And what could I do with Sammel, anyway? Try and stop him from providing information and scrolls? With Hamor in Freetown, it was somewhat late to worry about the past spread of once-hidden knowledge.

  “I hoped you wouldn’t be that interested.” She pulled on an old soft shirt and turned back the new quilt.

  “It is interesting,” I admitted. “But I don’t see what I can do. So far as we can tell, even if there is a lot of chaos around Sammel, nothing else is happening, and any white wizard is going to gather chaos.”
r />   “A lot of the devices seem to have been his idea.” Krystal stretched out on the bed.

  “What can I do? Everyone seems to have already used the ideas. I can’t make them disappear.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I do know that nothing I can do will be enough to save Kyphros once Hamor really brings in troops and those new rifles. Kasee knows that, too. I just hoped you might have some ideas.” She added. “Just ideas. Just ideas.”

  Ideas? I had lots of ideas, but most of them dealt with making desks and chests-or getting Wegel to finish his own spaces. Sammel wasn’t raising an army, and for the first time in seasons, no one was directly attacking or threatening Kyphros.

  “Can Kasee get some rifles?”

  “Right now, to outfit just the Finest would cost more than the Treasury. They’d all have to be smuggled in. Mureas is looking into it, though.”

  “Oh…” I sat there for a moment. Then I snuffed the lamp and pulled the quilt around me, before leaning across the bed and kissing Krystal’s cheek. She seemed so exhausted.

  “Hold me. Just hold me.”

  My consort? My competent consort who carried powder across Kyphros on her mount and risked being blown skyward at any moment? The woman who had survived double-crosses and rigged duels? I just held her.

  After a time, she shivered once, and wrapped her arms around me. “Sometimes, Lerris, I don’t say what I feel. I see you here, and you’re so solid, like the very darkness itself. You deal with everything from chaos to chickens, and you care for people like Wegel and Rissa.” She shivered again. “All you ask-but you don’t ask, you hope-is that I love you. I do love you. Sometimes, though, sometimes, I get afraid.”

  I held her without asking why.

  “I worry that you don’t understand how everything can change in a moment. We never think. Ferrel had a daughter. Eldra’s just joined the Finest. I never knew Ferrel had a daughter. One day Ferrel rode out, and she never rode back. We don’t have children, and I hope we can. But I can’t now, not right now. Kasee needs me, and we don’t have anyplace else to call home.”

  “Things are getting better, now, with the crafting.” Still, I had to wonder. Would I have gotten the commission from Zeiber if Krystal hadn’t been the commander? Preltar was another question. I doubt he even knew Krystal and I were consorts. Antona? I really didn’t know. But just as things seemed to be looking up, here came the invasion of Freetown by Hamor- didn’t anything ever settle down?

  “And as soon as they do,” Krystal said, with another shiver, “something like this mess with Hamor happens. Won’t it ever end?”

  I didn’t have any answers, not any that I wanted to voice. So I kept holding her in the darkness and tried not to think about Hamor and Sammel. Or the cost of smuggled rifles. Or the need to make powder. Or the chaos building below Candar.

  LXVI

  THE COUNTESS OF Montgren-a white-haired, lean, and tanned woman in spotless light blue leathers-waited by the edge of the corral filled with sheep. Beside her stood two guards, carrying rifles and wearing short blades.

  Justen brushed back short hair that bore more than mere traces of silver. Tamra took a deep breath, trying not to sag against the fence rails, then brushed away a large fly that circled back toward her again.

  Baa… baaa… bdahhh…

  Behind the two mages, the sheep continued to mill in the corral, and the odors of raw wool, dust, and dung accompanied the noise.

  The redheaded mage sneezed and wiped her nose, then wiped it again.

  “Is it almost as bad as three years ago?” asked the Countess Merella of Montgren.

  Justen blotted his forehead. “Worse, I think. Or I’m older and more tired.”

  Tamra took another deep breath, letting her senses flick across the animals in the corral, feeling the scattered white chaos.

  “What happened to your last apprentice?” asked the Countess.

  “He’s done fine… if you consider destroying three white wizards and nearly getting killed twice a form of success. He’s a woodcrafter in Kyphros most of the time.” The gray wizard looked at the Countess, then around the area. The bodyguards stood well back from the three. “What are you going to do about Hamor?”

  “What can I do?” The Countess shrugged. “My guard is less than twentyscore, and I could raise perhaps a thousand in levies, as the Hamorian envoy has been so kind as to point out.”

  She smiled bitterly. “My daughter and son both died, not long after Herril, and I have no direct heirs. That makes it easy. My nephew is not pleased, but he understands.”

  “You name the throne of Hamor as your heir, and you administer Montgren for the Emperor?” asked Justen.

  “You have a better answer, Mage?”

  Justen shook his head slowly.

  “That way, my people don’t suffer again the way they did when mad Korweil defied Frven. The hilltop where his keep sat still won’t grow more than thistles and grass.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment. “As for wizardry… I have no desire for Vergren to look like Frven or the deadlands-assuming I could find a willing wizard.”

  Tamra’s eyes grew hard, but she said nothing, even after the Countess turned to her.

  “There’s an obligation to ruling, Magistra, just like there is an obligation to magic.” Merella nodded curtly, and turned to Justen. “Tomorrow… the pens outside Vergren?”

  Justen nodded.

  After the Countess and her guards had left, Tamra asked, “What was that business about mad Korweil?”

  “Korweil was the Duke who gave Creslin and Megaera sanctuary-you know, the Founders of Recluce. He thought he could hold off the wizards. They burned most of the meadows, killed most of the flocks, and leveled his keep.”

  “Could Hamor do that?”

  “There’s not much difference between a firebolt and a good cannon-not now, except that all those ships and cannon create free chaos through the Balance, a great deal more than I-or Recluce-ever anticipated.”

  “Can’t you use order to control it?”

  “Absolutely.” Justen offered a hard smile before asking, “Do you want to be the one who tries to channel it? That’s what Lerris did, you know.”

  “Oh… Will he try it again?”

  “Given Lerris, probably. But I don’t really want to be anywhere near when he does.”

  “Will we have a choice?” Tamra persisted.

  Justen lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “We’ve got a lot more sheep waiting. You can start.”

  LXVII

  KRYSTAL HAD BEEN in Ruzor for more than an eight-day when Durrik the spice merchant rode up one morning, early enough that Wegel was still attending to his chores, and I had barely gotten into the shop after practicing with the staff in the stable. I was getting better at hitting the moving bag more times in a row. With a soft cloth I was dusting away a thin coat of the red dust that had begun to drift into the shop with the warmer weather when I heard hoofs and went out into the yard. Outside the shop, the sky was clear and bright, and the first blades of grass were peering from the fields and around the yard.

  After Durrik reined up and dismounted, I escorted him into the shop where his chest was taking shape, alongside Antona’s desk, and Preltar’s daughter’s dowry chest. It was amazing how much work I was able to get done when someone else did the chores and when I wasn’t riding all over Candar.

  “There’s your chest.” I gestured at the light oak chest, almost completed except for the finishing. It was farther along than any of the others.

  “It’s… striking…” Durrik’s fingers brushed the wood, and I could tell he was pleased. He walked around it and looked, finally turning to me. “It’s better than I paid for.”

  He was right, but young crafters are usually underpaid, just as some older ones are often overpaid.

  Then Durrik looked at Wegel, who was racking the broom. “Young fellow, if you can learn half of what your master has already learned, you’ll never have to starve anywh
ere.”

  Wegel gave Durrik a slow smile. “Y-y-yes,‘s-ss-ser…”

  Durrik’s fingers brushed the wood on the side of the chest again. “I wish I could offer you more, but times are hard, and getting harder.” The spice trader wiped his forehead, although the shop wasn’t that hot-not yet.

  “The Hamorian traders?” I asked.

  “That… and spice prices. The ones that come by sea- they’re hard to get, and the prices keep going up. If I don’t charge what they cost me, I lose coins. If I do, only the wealthy can buy. Even some spices from Sarronnyn are getting dear.”

  “From Sarronnyn?” I’d opened the mountain roads three years earlier. Why were Sarronnese spices getting dearer?

  “They’ve got the same problem I do. You can’t make coins on high-priced imported spices, and so you up the price where you can. I’m selling tresselwood needles at twice what I was a year ago. I don’t like it, but what can I do?”

  All that because Hamor controlled perhaps five ports? Except the ports weren’t the problem, but the shipping.

  “It’s going to get worse. The Hamorian fleet is intercepting ships headed to Recluce.”

  “They can’t get every one,” I offered.

  “They don’t have to. Who wants to take that kind of risk when the Hamorians pay fairly well?”

  “I’m surprised Recluce has not done something.” And I was. Recluce needed trade. Why hadn’t the Brotherhood struck back?

  “They may yet,” Durrik said with a half-shrug. “If they don’t…”

  I understood the shrug. If Recluce didn’t do something fairly soon, whatever the Brotherhood did would probably be too late, although I wasn’t quite sure what they could do-or if I wanted to know.

  “I was glad to see the chest, but that wasn’t why I came.” Durrik handed me a flat envelope with a black wax seal. “This is a letter from your family, and I said I’d get it to you.”

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. It’s always paid on the other end.” Durrik grinned. “Even if it weren’t, I couldn’t take anything after looking at the chest.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Best I be going. You want to send a letter back-I’ll find a way to get it there. Might be roundabout, but I can do it.”