The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The spotless gray washstones and shower hadn’t changed, and the towels were thick and smelled fresh. In the end, we all had showers, and mine was cold, because I let the others go first.

  “Don’t always be so noble.” Krystal used her towel on the fine short black and silver hair that always seemed to fall into place.

  “I won’t.” I let my own towel drop. “You can warm me up.”

  She started to say my name, but our lips got in the way, but only for a little because Elisabet started calling for dinner. Having an aunt who is also a mage can be disconcerting.

  “You’re all tired, and probably wish an early bedtime.” Aunt Elisabet’s eyes twinkled for a moment as we took seats at the table. “Dinner is simple, since I didn’t know exactly when you would arrive. It’s a spiced fish stew and noodles.” She set two dishes on the big circular table, and stepped back into the kitchen, returning with two baskets of bread. The cherry conserve I favored was already on the table. She turned to Dayala. “I have some mixed greens here for you, with some new apple vinegar, and some fresh and dried fruit. The noodles, of course…”

  “That is kind.” Dayala smiled.

  “We do not see druids often, and I wish I had had the chance to meet you earlier… much earlier. Life can be so short, and…” She shook her head as she pulled out her chair and sat.

  “Let’s have the noodles,” suggested Uncle Sardit.

  “By all means,” said Justen.

  “Where did you ride from today?” Elisabet handed the bread basket to Dayala.

  “From Alaren.”

  “That’s a long ride, and tomorrow will be even longer.” Elisabet looked at Krystal. “Not so much for you, I suspect. From what I, understand, you’re more experienced with long rides.”

  “Any day on horseback is a long ride.”

  “Especially when .you’re with those of us who aren’t used to it.” She smiled at Krystal. “Has Lerris improved any? He wasn’t much for riding as a boy.”

  “He rides well now.”

  “So long as I have Gairloch,” I added, serving the noodles for Krystal as she held the bowl.

  “Even on other mounts.” Krystal passed the noodles to Justen, and I served us the stew, trying not to choke at her suppressed amusement.

  Aunt Elisabet’s fish stew was good enough that it wasn’t even fishy, but I still had three chunks of bread with the cherry conserve. Even Krystal had two pieces with the conserve, and for a while, no one did much besides eat. That always seemed to happen when people rode all day.

  “I got a note from Perlot. He wrote something about your ordered chairs creating a stir.” Sardit broke the silence.

  “Yes. That was one of my stupider accomplishments.”

  “I doubt that was stupid,” said Aunt Elisabet.

  Justen and Dayala nodded.

  “When it’s beyond good crafting it is.” I explained as quickly as possible how my putting excess order into the chairs for the subprefect had disrupted Gallos and forced me to leave precipitously. That didn’t even cover leaving Deirdre and Bos-trie. “… forcing excess order where it doesn’t belong leads to problems.” I smiled ruefully, before adding, “Of course, that hasn’t stopped me from doing it, just from realizing what a mess it causes.”

  “Perlot said you started a new idea-children’s furniture.” Sardit raised his glass and took a healthy swig of ale, and I understood another reason why my mother had thought Justen might be happier with Elisabet and Sardit.

  “I was looking for something for Bostric to do, and I thought some of the gentry might pay for furniture designed for children. I was lucky. They did.”

  “Perlot said that they still were.”

  “I suppose I could try that in Kyphros.”

  “It might be more appropriate than doing dining sets for Antona.” The mischievous feeling I got told me Krystal wasn’t serious, or not totally serious.

  “And this Antona is attractive?” Even Aunt Elisabet’s eyes twinkled.

  “She is an older woman, who runs the local… pleasure trade… rather well. She commissioned a desk, and then a dining set.”

  “An ornate and excessively ornamented piece, no doubt,” laughed Sardit.

  “It was tasteful, elegant, and the autarch would have been jealous,” said Krystal.

  “Oh, dear,” said Elisabet. “There is nothing so dangerous as a courtesan with intelligence and taste.”

  “Maybe Kasee ought to make her Finance Minister,” I suggested, not entirely in jest.

  “She might be easier to deal with than Mureas,” admitted Krystal.

  “Wouldn’t anyone?”

  “Would you pass the bread?” asked Justen.

  “And the conserve?” responded Elisabet with that glint in her eyes.

  “Of course.”

  The conserve pot was nearly empty, and so were the bread baskets, both for the dark bread and the white loaf.

  “What else are you working on?” asked Sardit.

  “I was doing some travel chests. Is there anything better than fir for lightweight things you want to be strong?”

  Sardit frowned, scratching his head. “Probably not, although they say there’s a Brystan spruce that’s good, but it rots too easily, especially around water, and if you’re traveling a lot by water…”

  “Then you’d have an unhappy traveler after a few short years.”

  He nodded. “How are your inlays coming?”

  “They’re still weak. I’m cheating, in a way…” I went on to explain about Wegel and his carving, and that led somehow to discussions of finishes, which turned into whether brasswork should be varnished.

  Krystal yawned, and Aunt Elisabet stood. “You two could talk about woodwork all night, but we all have to leave early in the morning. The Hamorian fleet won’t be waiting for us to finish craft talk.”

  “You’re going?” I asked, realizing as I did that Krystal wasn’t in the least surprised.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Justen and Gunnar declared I was too young for their last… adventure, and I’m not about to miss this one.”

  My eyes went to Sardit, and he smiled, not totally cheerfully. “Someone has to keep her feet somewhere near the ground, and that’s me.”

  Once again, I knew I was missing something, but Krystal and I made our way to the rear guest room, immaculate, and with a double-width bed and a down mattress over a tight canvas frame, one of Sardit’s innovations that I probably should have copied, if I ever had the chance. The combination made for a comfortable sleep.

  The quilt coverlet was a light silvered green with a darker green star pattern, and I didn’t remember it.

  “It bothers you that your aunt and uncle are coming, doesn’t it?” asked Krystal as she pulled off her boots, and then her shirt.

  “Yes and no. Aunt Elisabet has always been more than I think most people realize, but I think my mother’s coming, too, and there’s nothing either my mother or Sardit can do.” I put my boots in the corner and hung my clothes on the pegs in the wardrobe, next to {Crystal’s.

  She named back the coverlet. “They don’t think you can win, and they don’t want to be alone.”

  CXX

  The Great Forest, Naclos [Candar]

  THE THREE DRUIDS and the ancient stand before the sands, watching as darkness boils out of the sand map of Candar and rolls toward the dark isle beyond the Gulf. Yet a whiteness surrounds the darkness that creeps across the blue sand of the Gulf.

  Above the four rustle the branches of the oak more ancient than any kingdom or any legend of any kingdom, save those of the angels.

  “Once again, the armies of darkness and light come together,” declares the ancient.

  “But the lovers… they wield the demons’ towers for order. What a song that would be. Perhaps someone will sing it,” suggests the frail silver-haired singer.

  “Dayala has left, and she knew there will be no last song, Werlynn,” says Syodra. “What would you sing? Or do you dre
am that your son’s heritage will prevail?”

  “There are always songs. The singers change, but the songs endure.”

  “I admire your faith, but this darkness is soulless and enduring, and the machines only imprison order and do not sing.”

  “They will not prevail,” declares the ancient.

  “Would Dayala offer chaos against them? Even she would not,” says Frysa.

  “No. She cannot stand against the surges of order and chaos that time alone creates, and she knew that. Neither will we.”

  “What will happen then?” asks Syodra.

  “The songs will endure,” Werlynn says softly.

  “So will the Balance,” adds the ancient, “no matter how great the price, no matter who pays it.”

  The branches of the ancient oak rustle in the center of the Great Forest.

  CXXI

  DAWN CAME TOO early, but we struggled up and into our clothes with only a hasty washing. I couldn’t believe that Aunt Elisabet had flake rolls for everyone and fruit and even egg pies-or that we were on the road not much after the sun peeked above the horizon, with the whole house closed up as tight as Uncle Sardit’s shop. That was another thing that bothered me, cheerful as Aunt Elisabet was about it.

  It was still early when we turned to the right off the High Road and followed the narrower way into Wandernaught. Hoofs clipped on the stone of the road as we rode into the center of the town. The door to the old post house was open, and beyond it a thin line of smoke puffed from the main chimney of the Broken Wheel, a two-story stone and timber building and still the only inn in Wandernaught, as it had been, according to my father, for centuries. The owners changed, but not the inn itself, or not much. The facade and sign had been freshly painted, but in the same cream and brown colors.

  Beyond the square, a youngster sat on the step of the coppersmith’s, waiting for someone. I waved, and he waved back, his eyes a bit wide at the sight of six riders so early in the day, although riders to the Institute were not that uncommon. Two heavy-looking barrels stood outside Lerack’s dry and leather goods, almost as if they had been rolled the hundred cubits from the cooper’s.

  I shifted my weight in the saddle as we rode west and out of town. On the south side of the road rose those gentle rolling hills that held the groves-cherry, apple, and pearapple. A low stone fence separated the trees from the road.

  On a low hilltop in the middle of the groves was the Institute, just a single low black stone building. “There it is,” I told Krystal.

  “Never should have told him to put it there,” said Justen.

  I looked at my uncle.

  “We stood right there-that was a long while ago, when I was young and about to build the fire-eye and the land engine- and I asked him if he were going to move the Council here, and he said it was a good idea. Instead, he created the Institute and put it there. Waste of a good hilltop.”

  “The trees didn’t enjoy the view,” Sardit said.

  “Sardit.” My aunt sounded slightly exasperated.

  Dayala studied the trees, then nodded. “They are good trees.”

  I thought so, but she’d certainly know better than I would have.

  Both my parents and Tamra, Weldein, and the other three guards were waiting, their mounts saddled, and packs in place, when we reached my parents’ house.

  “You look as if you had a good rest.” Tamra’s eyes flicked to Krystal.

  “It was very nice,” answered Krystal, and I could sense her amusement, along with a touch of sadness, almost pity.

  Weldein’s face was professionally cheerful.

  “Did you sleep well?” my mother asked.

  “Very well.” I leaned over in the saddle, managing to hang on, and kissed her cheek. “How about you?”

  “We managed. Your father worries too much, but he always has.”

  “You have gotten to be a better rider,” said Krystal as the others mounted up.

  We rode back through Wandernaught, and the same boy sat on the coppersmith’s step, and his eyes did widen as we passed this time, probably because of the four armed guards-or maybe it was the combination of armed troopers, and black and gray mages.

  The High Road south was the same as ever, straight, wide, level, and a trace boring.

  I did smile as I saw the sign for Enstronn.

  “What’s so amusing?” asked Krystal.

  “Here’s where I met Shrezsan…”

  “Shrezsan?”

  “Leithrrse’s old love, the one-”

  Tamra and Krystal looked at each other.

  “What is so strange about Lerris’s remembering that?” asked my father. “It’s an old Recluce name. There have been several Shrezsans. I think Justen was sweet on her great-grand- mother or maybe several greats older than that. Anyway, this one must have been something. Leithrrse named a ship after her.”

  “He did?” Krystal looked at me. “You didn’t mention that part.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Well,” my father added with a chuckle, “I didn’t know it was named after her until now, but it follows. He was a trader, and he had a ship named the Shrezsan, one of the newer steel-hulled Hamorian merchants. I remember the name because it was after Lerris left when I found out that they were building steel-hulled warships.”

  “So you were right,” said Tamra, shifting her weight in the saddle of the roan.

  “I have been known to be right, once in a while,” I teased.

  “Once in a great while.”

  “A little more than that,” suggested Krystal.

  After Enstronn came the kaystones for Clarion, and then Sigil, and we stopped for water at the waystation where the trader had tried to force me into selling my staff. The waystation was the same-tiled roof, windowless walls, hard wooden benches.

  Only a bit over three years-had it been such a short time? Less than four years before I had been walking the High Road, whistling, unsuccessfully trying to flirt with the woman named Shrezsan, using my staff on a foreign trader, not even knowing its powers, not knowing that Tamra and Krystal even existed.

  I took a deep breath as I remounted.

  “Memories?” asked Krystal.

  “It seems like a lifetime ago.”

  “It was.”

  She was right about that. You can go home, but it’s not home, and maybe that was why Aunt Elisabet had wanted us to stay with her.

  As the faint black line that was the wall of Nylan appeared just about the time the sun touched the horizon, Weldein rode closer to Tamra. “Where will we be staying in Nylan?”

  Although I wasn’t looking at her, but toward the Eastern Ocean, I could sense Krystal’s smile.

  “I don’t know,” Tamra answered.

  “There are the Council guest quarters,” my mother said, turning in her saddle.

  “Wonderful,” mumbled Justen.

  “It’s for Council guests, and you are all certainly Council guests,” responded my mother. She smiled. “I already made the arrangements when I got the warrant.”

  “To save a few coins?” asked Justen.

  “Those don’t matter,” my mother responded cheerfully, “as you of all people should know. The Council guest quarters are nicer, and besides-”

  “-it reminds the Council that they did invite us,” finished my father.

  Like the High Road itself, the walls of Nylan were unchanged also-solid black stone, sixty cubits high, without embrasures, crenellations, moats, ditches-and only the single gate that, so far as anyone knew, had never been closed.

  CXXII

  Freetown Port, Freetown [Candar]

  THE LINES OF uniformed troops, each with blue-steeled rifle and cartridge belt, stand waiting on the piers that jut into the Great North Bay.

  From the bridge of the Emperor’s Pride, Marshal Dyrsse surveys the tan blocks of troops arrayed below.

  “I trust you find the numbers sufficient,” says Fleet Commander Stupelltry. “More than ten thousand just there. Re
cluce has less than three thousand, and they are scarcely trained to our standards. Nor are they armed with rifles.”

  “The troops will be sufficient, Fleet Commander, provided your ships and guns are adequate.” Dyrsse smiles out at the hulls in the bay that seem to stretch for kays. “I trust they are rigged for storm running and heavy seas. Very heavy seas. They will encounter those.”

  “I have ensured that, Marshal. We are ready to undertake our duty, and all are aware of the ordeal ahead.”

  “Good. Perhaps you would care to join me later, in a glass of true Hamorian wine, to celebrate the beginning of accomplishing our duty to the Emperor, since you have found the local vintages to be less than adequate?”

  “I must ensure the loading goes according to plan.”

  “And after that?”

  “We steam.”

  “Then you will join me?”

  “Then I will join you.”

  “Good.”. Dyrsse nods and steps toward the rear of the bridge, his hand briefly touching the polished wooden rail, before he steps out into the sunlight and onto the iron ladder.

  Stupelltry does not smile, nor does the captain, nor the ratings who have stood silently on the hard iron plates of the bridge deck.

  CXXIII

  KRYSTAL AND I left the guest quarters while the others were still washing up that morning. The Council guest quarters-two stories with paneled rooms, and most amenities-were on the grounds of the Brotherhood’s establishment. When I had first come to Nylan to prepare for my dangergeld, I’d never really questioned who and what belonged to whom. It had seemed rather useless since I was leaving Recluce.

  While Krystal stopped to adjust her scabbard, I spent a moment letting my senses drop into the rocks beneath and to the north of the port, trying to locate the iron that supposedly lay beneath Recluce.

  It wasn’t hard, and the jolt ran through me like cold water.

  Grrrrrrr!

  “Oh… I felt that.”