Modesitt,L.E. - Recluce 11 - The Death of Chaos

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The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.

Cover art by Darrell Sweet

A Tor Book Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

175 Fifth Avenue New York, N.Y. 10010

Tor® Books on the World Wide Web: http://www.tor.com

Lerris returns in the long-awaited sequel to The Magic of Recluce. Candar is being invaded and

Lerris must become the greatest wizard of all time-or see his whole world destroyed!

For my parents, again,

with more understanding, and for Carol Ann

Part I - FINDING CHAOS

I

I'D JUST APPLIED the thinnest coat possible of a satin finish on the black oak wardrobe for the

autarch of Kyphros-Kasee- when I felt the presence of horses, and their riders. Krystal was not

with them, and I didn't like the idea of the Finest tramping up to the shop without my consort,

but as subcommander of the autarch's forces, Krystal's schedule wasn't exactly predictable.

I finished the section of the wardrobe I had been working on before I met the troopers outside

the stable. The stable hadn't been my idea, but Krystal's, and she had paid for most of it,

especially the part that doubled as a bunkhouse for her personal guard. Funny things like that

happen to the consort of the second-highest-ranking military officer in Kyphros, not that either

of us had planned where we would end up when we-and Tamra and a few others-had been thrown out of

Recluce years earlier because we hadn't been "ordered" enough for the black Brotherhood--or my

father.

"Greetings, Order-master!" In the green leathers of the autarch's Finest, Yelena sat easily on

the brown gelding.

I'd known Yelena from my first days in Kyphrien, when I'd been fortunate to best the white

chaos-master Antonin and rescue Tamra. Yelena had been my escort part of the way on that troubled

trip, but she still called me order-master and threatened to lash any member of the Finest who

even hinted at any familiarity. If she weren't so serious about it, it might have been funny, but

I understood her reasoning, and couldn't say it was wrong. People had this idea that I was a great

wizard because I'd managed to get rid of three white wizards. One of them had actually plagued not

only Kyphros, but all of the continent of Candar.

" Greetings, Leader Yelena."

She wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"

"It's a satin-finish varnish-except it's got a touch of some other things that make it more

like-"

"Enough, enough..." The broad-shouldered squad leader grinned as she dismounted. "Until I met

you, I always thought woodworkers were small little men who hid in their shops, toiling endless

days in the dark until they produced something like magic."

"You have the endless-days part correct, and I'm not that big."

She shook her head. So I am a bit taller than the average Kyphran, who tend to be shorter and

darker than people from the north or from the island continent of Recluce. That didn't make me

that big a person.

"Where is Krystal?"

"The subcommander is meeting with the autarch, and will be here shortly."

"So, why are you here?" I looked down at the varnish-stained cloth in my hand. "I've got to get

back to the wardrobe, or I'll have the demon's own time getting the finish to match."

"Commander Ferrel wanted to make sure that no one disturbed the subcommander."

That didn't make much sense. If Ferrel didn't want Krystal disturbed, why weren't the guards

with her?

"How many for dinner, Master Lerris?" Rissa was still barefoot and wore trousers that looked

more like shorts. I'd given up on correcting her, but I had noticed that she only used the term

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"master" when others were present. Rissa had grown up not far from the burned-out buildings I'd

received from the autarch and rebuilt, but Yelena had rescued Rissa from bandits who killed

Rissa's consort and daughter not long after we moved in. Rissa hadn't spoken at first, but my

uncle Justen- the only true gray wizard in Candar, or perhaps anywhere-had been convinced that

being around Krystal and me would heal her. Besides, at the time, Justen had had his hands full in

rebuilding Tamra's abilities and confidence after her near disastrous encounter with Antonin when

the white wizard Sephya had taken over Tamra's body.

So... I'd done what I could for Rissa, and so had Krystal, and it had gotten to be nice to have

someone else do the cooking and cleaning. That way, I could concentrate on setting up my workshop

and getting customers. Krystal was a good cook, not that she ever had any time for it, being the

chief military trainer and administrator of Kyphros. I still was a bit amazed, when I thought

about it, that Kyphros, like ancient Westwind, was run basically by women. Unlike Westwind, they

didn't run out men or tromp all over them. It just happened that in Kyphros, most of the people

with the ability to govern seemed to be women. That was fine with me, since I never had any

inclinations along those lines.

"He's off somewheres again," snorted Rissa. "Master Lerris... dinner? How many?"

"How would I know?" I turned to Yelena. "How many do you have?"

Yelena frowned gently. "We ate before we left, and they have their rations."

"Would you join us? And why aren't you with the subcommander?" Was Krystal being sent off

somewhere else again?

"Not tonight. The subcommander told me to tell you that the wizard Justen and his apprentice

would be arriving with her."

I took a deep breath. As usual, things were getting complicated. Krystal had been out for the

past eight-day, doing something with the local levies around Ruzor, and I'd hoped to have some

time with her. Now the whole world was arriving. Yelena, who usually joined us, even if her troops

didn't, wasn't going to, and that meant something worse was about to happen.

Yelena smiled gently, understanding my thoughts.

"Five, so far. And make sure we have some ale for Justen."

Rissa shook her head and padded back into the house.

"I've got-"

"-to get back to your finish. I am sure I wouldn't wish to spoil a piece meant for the

autarch."

"How did you know?"

She shrugged, turned, and motioned to Weldein and Freyda and two others I didn't know. Weldein

grinned at me, and I gave him an exaggerated shrug.

As I turned back to the shop, I wondered, not for the first time, how anything could be kept a

secret in Kyphros. Inside, I took a fresh cloth and dipped it into the finish and began to rub it

into the wood. "Rub" is really the wrong term, because there's almost no pressure involved. The

finish I had cooked up was thin and took a long time to dry. I needed to apply several coats, but

the eventual result was a hard, but almost invisible coat-without magic-and that was what I'd

wanted with the wardrobe, because the doors generally took a beating.

The inlaid design glistened and seemed to stand out from the dark wood. Inlay work was, for me,

the hardest part. Not the grooving or the channels in the base wood-that was a matter of patience

and care-but the creation of the inlay pieces themselves. The grain has to add to the design and

not just appear as though it had been stuck there any old way. I also tended to make my inlays a

shade deeper, but that meant ensuring that the base wood was fractionally thicker to avoid

sacrificing strength.

The design was a variation on the autarch's flag-an olive branch crossed with a blade-golden

oak set in the base, black oak on the panel above the doors. That was it-nothing else to mar the

smooth finish of the piece. That sort of work is tricky, because any flaw is instantly noticed.

Errors in more elaborate inlays often aren't seen.

I was probably extra sensitive to flaws in woodworking, and in wood, because one little flaw

when I was working as an apprentice for my uncle Sardit had gotten me exiled from Recluce, carted

across the Eastern Ocean and dumped in Candar to discover the "truth" of order, with only a staff,

except it was a special staff, bound in order and black iron. Because I was a potential order-

master, one of the so-called blackstaffers, no one had told me much, and I had gotten into more

and more trouble. I'd been chased out of Freetown, chased out of Hrisbarg, and generally on the

run across Eastern Candar until I ran into Justen. Then, I'd thought he was just a gray wizard,

and I was glad to be his apprentice. It took me more than a year to find out he was my uncle-and

well over two centuries old. So I'd ridden with Justen, almost gotten possessed by one of the

white wizards bound centuries earlier in the ruins of Frven. Justen saved me there, and then had

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taught me how to heal sheep, and a few other things. Nothing went quite as planned. I'd rescued

and healed a street slut in Jellico. That hadn't been such a good idea, because all unlicensed

healing there was forbidden, and I'd had to leave Justen and, once again, ride for my life,

heading west across Candar.

Eventually, I'd gotten through the Easthorns--through storms and snows in those towering

mountains-and made my way to Fenard-the capital of Gallos. I actually found a place with a

woodworker, old Destrin, and got back to working wood. There I lasted about a year before I did

something else stupid-I infused some chairs we made with extra order. The extra order reacted with

the chaos in the Prefect's officers, and some were burned. That meant I had to leave Gallos, but

not until I'd found a suitable match for Destrin's daughter Deirdre.

At that point, Gallos and Kyphros were fighting an ugly war, fomented and fueled by Antonin,

one of the nastier white wizards I'd ever had the displeasure of running across. I'd found out

that Krystal had joined the forces of the autarch of Kyphros. So I went to Kyphrien, the capital

of Kyphros, to see if I could help, although my skills were certainly weak compared to those of

Antonin.

After rescuing some of Commander Ferrel's Finest and disposing of one white wizard, I reached

Kyphrien. I found Krystal had worked her way up to the number two position in the Finest, and that

I'd missed being with her-except I'd been too stupid to see that. Of course, it wasn't that

simple. Nothing is. So, I'd had to go seek out Antonin. He and his white colleague Sephya had

enslaved Tamra, who had been exiled from Recluce with me. Sephya had started to take over Tamra's

body-that's how the body-switchers prolong their lives-and both of them tried to tempt me. Because

after two years of refusing good adult advice, I'd finally gotten around to reading The Basis of

Order, I had this half-finished idea that I could stand up to Antonin. I did, sort of. In the end,

he died because, after I'd figured out that I had to break my own staff because part of my soul

and abilities were locked in it, I'd managed to separate him from the forces of chaos. His castle

came apart, and Tamra and I had barely made it out. Tamra lost half her mind, and I'd rebuilt it-

with Justen screaming from half a country away that I couldn't, but I did anyway. Then I got a

reward for the success of surviving my stupidity and was smart enough to tell Krystal I loved her.

After that, I built the house and shop and tried to get back to woodwork and avoid unnecessary

wizardry.

And all of it happened just because I hadn't applied the glue clamps right to a tabletop in my

uncle's workshop in Recluce.

I shook my head because Justen and Tamra were arriving, and reminiscing wasn't going to finish

the wardrobe. I actually got the finish on before three more horses clinked into the yard. I

shrugged, set the cloths aside, and hurried out into the cool fall breeze. When winter nears in

Candar, the air carries an acrid tang, not quite musty, not quite bitter-something to do with the

graying of the leaves.

My dark-haired and black-eyed subcommander got a hug first, men a kiss, almost as soon as her

boots hit the ground. Tamra and Justen were still mounted-Justen, as always, on Rosefoot.

"You did miss me." Krystal grinned.

"I always miss you." I hugged her again.

"Don't seem so pleased, Krystal," said Tamra.

"I am pleased. Someday you'll understand." Krystal gave me another hug, and a long, lingering

kiss, and I didn't even mind where the hilt of her sword jabbed into my guts.

"Disgusting..." Tamra swung off her horse. She wore her usual dark grays, with a scarf to set

off her red hair. The scarf was blue this time, matching her ice-blue eyes.

Justen slipped off Rosefoot with an ease borne of long practice and looked at his apprentice.

"We can stable all three horses, Tamra."

"Give him hell, Krystal," said Tamra as she took the reins of Krystal's chestnut.

In her own way, Krystal was, and we were both enjoying it, but we eventually went inside, where

Krystal slipped off for a moment to wash up while I washed in the kitchen and then joined the

others at the table.

Rissa had set a loaf of fresh bread on the table along with olive butter and some redberry

preserves she'd gotten from somewhere. I missed the pearapples of the north, but Kyphros was

really too warm to grow them.

Tamra reached for the bread. The redhead was always hungry, but stayed as slim as a rail."One

good thing about visiting you, Lerris-good food. You're getting fat and sloppy, though."

"Hardly. My trousers are looser."

"Rissa must be letting them out."

"I do believe I saw you with a needle the other day," offered Justen, looking at Tamra.

Tamra flushed. Rissa giggled. Justen raised an eyebrow at Tamra, his still-unruly apprentice. I

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had learned a lot as Justen's apprentice, and could have learned more if I hadn't been forced to

leave him because I hadn't paid any attention and healed that street slut in plain sight in

Jellico. That had gotten all the Viscount's troops after me. I'd been lucky to survive and would

have done better if I'd listened to Justen more, but Justen was like all the wizards who dealt

with order. Besides telling me to read The Basis of Order, he didn't volunteer much. Tamra didn't

seem to be doing much better than I had, and, as with me, Justen still wasn't saying much.

By all rights Justen should have been a doddering old fool, since he had been born over two

centuries earlier, according to what I'd eventually figured out. He never admitted anything,

except that he did happen to be my uncle and that he too had left Recluce. That also explained why

my father-who was even older than Justen-had been extraordinarily evasive about our family

history, and just about everything else. That lack of knowledge had gotten me, and a lot of other

young exiles from Recluce-poor dangergelders-into a bunch of trouble. A lot of them died, and I

almost did on more than one occasion. Ignorance is deadly, especially when it's not apparent.

Justen just looked middle-aged, with brown hair that occasionally streaked with silver-gray if

he had been working hard in dealing with order-or various disasters-like when he finally bottled

up the demons of Frven. Then again, in retrospect, I didn't feel that bad about that, even if I

had nearly killed him, since he was the one who created that mess-he and my father. Of course,

neither one had bothered to tell me. That's what dealing with order-masters is like. They never

reveal much because they believe it doesn't mean anything if it isn't hard-earned. That's also why

most order-masters or chaos-masters don't live that long.

While we ate the bread and waited for Krystal-my consort and subcommander-while she washed up,

Tamra, Justen, Rissa, and I sat around the table. Like a lot in the house, it was a reject,

something that hadn't quite worked out the way I'd intended. The table was octagonal, with an

inlaid pattern. The reason it was a reject wasn't that it was bad, but that it had been

commissioned by Reger. He had been a produce factor in Ruzor, until he fell out of an olive tree

and broke his neck. How he could have broken his neck with a fall of only about six cubits was

beyond me, but he'd had too much wine and was arguing with his brother. Anyway, it's hard to

collect a commission when the person who commissioned it is dead. So we had a table that was far

too elegant for the main room of a woodworker's home.

Krystal had told me it was fate, and that I should have at least one good piece of my own.

"Would you trust an armorer who had only misshapen blades on his walls? A mason who lived in a

house with crooked walls?" she had asked, and there was certainly some logic in that.

I tried the bread, but, conscious of Tamra's gibe, not the olive butter or the preserves.

"Have you reread The Basis of Order recently?" asked Justen, who ignored food unless he really

needed it.

"No," I admitted.

"It might be worth it." He turned to Rissa, sitting on a stool at the side of the table closest

to the cooler. "Is there any more of that dark ale?"

Rissa slid off the stool with the grace that all the Kyphrans seemed to have, for which I

envied them, and set the pitcher before Justen. "Hurlot says that his is the best. So does Ryntar.

This comes from Gesil's casks, and he spends more time brewing and less in the market."

"Good."

"I still don't see how you can drink that," mused Tamra.

"Neither does my brother. Or he didn't." Justen looked at me. "About The Basis of Order..."

"I've been busy. There's the wardrobe for the autarch, and I had to do the dining set for-"

"Lerris... you don't have any competition. You could spend a little time studying."

"What for? I'm a woodworker."

"You're also considered one of the most powerful wizards in Kyphros, even when you're just

pretending that you're only a poor woodworker."

Krystal slipped into the seat next to me, wearing just the green leather trousers and a plain

shirt. She'd left off the short jacket with all the gold braid. "I'm sorry. Kasee kept me. We have

a problem-another one." Krystal looked toward Rissa. "Some of Justen's ale would be good."

"Justen's ale, yet?" asked Tamra under her breath.

I ignored her.

Rissa brought Krystal a mug and poured ale from the pitcher.

Krystal took a long, and very deep, swallow before continuing. "The new Duke of Hydlen has

occupied the brimstone springs in the Lower Easthorns."

"Brimstone?" asked Rissa.

"That's for powder. You mix it with nitre and charcoal," Tamra explained.

"Explosive powder isn't that useful," I ventured. "Any chaos wizard-"

"That may be the problem." Krystal sighed and turned to Justen. "You've heard of Gerlis,

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haven't you?"

Justen pulled at his chin. "Yes. He's a body-changer. He's also probably the most powerful

white wizard in Candar now."

"He's the court wizard to the new Duke-that bastard named Berfir," explained Krystal.

Dukes changed often in Candar, almost as often as the powerful white wizards changed bodies.

"Where did he come from?" asked Tamra.

"Berfir's the head of the Yeannota clan. His family has owned the rangelands between Telsen and

Asula for ages. We don't know much more, except he raised an army, made some agreements with the

merchants on taxes, and... poof... one day Duke Sterna died and named Berfir his heir. Very neat."

"You think Gerlis had something to do with it?" Tamra poured herself more redberry.

"Who can tell? If he didn't, he's certainly taken advantage of the situation."

Rissa got up and stirred whatever was in the big stewpot and the noodles that had been

simmering in the other pot. The odor of onions and lamb drifted across the table, and I licked my

lips.

"What does this all have to do with the brimstone springs?"

Krystal shrugged. "We don't know yet, but Kasee thinks that it bears watching, and that means

sending a detachment to do the watching."

"When do you leave?" I asked.

"I don't. Ferrel says that it's her turn to take a trip. She's been stuck in Kyphrien running

the Finest for years, and it's up to me to see how it feels. She's tired of everyone second-

guessing her. Besides"-Krystal grinned and looked at me-"she says I've been neglecting you, and

neglecting order-masters isn't a good idea."

I liked Ferrel even more, assuming she'd said that, or Krystal for thinking of me. Then, I'd

always liked Ferrel-ever since she'd returned my knife at that first dinner I'd had with the

autarch. I'd left my knife with the captives I'd freed in order to charge the first white wizard

with a staff. That had been a very dumb thing to do, even if it had worked. Anyway, when I'd first

come to Kyphros, Ferrel had confirmed my rescue efforts by returning the knife. "What does Kasee-I

mean the autarch-think?"

"Her Mightiness the autarch agrees that the experience of standing in for Ferrel will do me

good."

"Experience rarely does anyone good," grumped Justen. "It just does them in."

"How about some real food?" Tamra looked toward the stove.

"It's almost ready," said Rissa.

I got up and began to pass out plates, brown crockery things I'd purchased in Kyphrien with the

last of the stipend the autarch had bestowed on me for ridding Kyphros-and Candar- of some

unwanted white wizards. I had spent most of those coins on building the house and workshop, and in

getting tools. Good tools are expensive, and I still didn't have everything I really needed.

Justen was the only nonwhite wizard I knew who really made a decent living from wizardry, and

he traveled across most of Candar to do it.

Because I was technically master of the house, although Krystal was certainly far more

important, Rissa set everything in front of me, and I got to ladle out the stew and noodles while

Rissa set out two big long loaves of steaming dark bread. I made sure Tamra got enough stew and

noodles to choke her.

For a time, no one spoke, and the only sound was of eating. Tamra slurped even more than some

of the junior guards in the Finest, hardly ladylike, but Tamra had never wanted to be a lady

anyway.

I caught Justen's eye, and my uncle shook his head, but I wondered if he were shaking it more

at my judgment than Tamra's manners. Krystal ate with the quiet efficiency I had noted the first

time I met her, and I reached under the table and squeezed her knee.

"Tell Ferrel to be careful," cautioned Justen.

"Ferrel is very careful. You don't survive to be guard commander if you're not."

I squeezed Krystal's leg just above the knee again, glad that she would not be doing the scout

mission. White wizards were always dangerous.

"You need to eat more, Master Wizard," said Rissa, gesturing at Justen. "The birds, they eat

more than you. So do the ants."

"It's not good to overdo anything," said Justen with a laugh.

"Then don't overdo the starvation," answered Rissa.

Even Tamra grinned, and Justen did eat a few more bites of stew and noodles before he spoke

again. "How did the autarch find out about the springs?"

"Travelers. The spring is on the main east road to Sunta. The Hydlenese troops closed the road,

and there were some very unhappy travelers."

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Travelers made sense. The water route, going down the Phroan River from Kyphrien through

central Kyphros to Felsa, then down the metaled river road to Ruzor, the only real port in

Kyphros, and taking a coaster to one of the ports in Hydlen, was just as fast and a lot easier, if

longer. It was also much costlier; so some travelers preferred the mountain way, but few traders.

"You think the Duke meant for Kasee to find out?" asked Krystal.

"How long had the Hydlenese held the spring before you found out?" asked my uncle the gray

wizard.

Krystal nodded. "I'll mention that to Ferrel."

"Is there any more of that dark ale?" asked Justen.

Rissa handed him the pitcher, and he half filled his mug.

"Benefits of being a gray wizard."

"White wizards don't get those benefits," I countered.

"When you get a little older, you'll get gray, too, Lerris. I guarantee that."

I hoped I didn't get either gray or into terrible puns.

After more talk about everything from the unseasonable rain-rain more than once every two eight-

days was unseasonable in Kyphros, even in winter-to the autarch's decision to try to open the old

wizards' road through northern Kyphros, Krystal yawned. "I'm sorry, but... it has been a long

day."

"Shoo..." said Rissa.

We shooed, leaving Tamra and Justen sitting at the table, talking about the Balance between

order and chaos. I understood the Balance well enough, having played into Antonin's hand myself by

creating too much order in Fenard. But once you understand that order and chaos must balance, one

way or another, there's not that much else to be said. You try to live by it, although I wasn't

about to give up crafting the most orderly woodwork I could. I wasn't about to put extra order

into my pieces, though. That was the sort of mistake I didn't want to repeat.

Krystal smiled softly at me when I shut the door.

"You..."

"I was tired... I was tired of people talking."

Still marveling that I had not seen her warmth when first I had met her, I opened my arms.

Later, much later, when Krystal lay asleep beside me, her face as open and as innocent as a

child's, I watched her for a long time, knowing, somehow, that the latest wizard business would

drag us all into it.

Outside, I could hear the faint clinking of whoever was on guard. Sometimes, I still shook my

head at it all-the very idea of a woodworker's shop and home being guarded by the autarch's

troops, because his consort was so important.

I kissed Krystal on the cheek. She murmured sleepily and squeezed my hand. I finally rolled

over, snuggling up beside her again.

II

Nylan, Recluce

THE BLACK STONE exterior of the hillside building frames a series of windows overlooking either

the harbor of Nylan, the Gulf of Candar, or the great Eastern Ocean. On only the north side are

there no windows. The windows-both those that slide open and the larger central expanses of glass

that do not-are framed in black oak fitted so closely that the lines of the mitred corners are

invisible. Behind the south-facing second-story window with the optimal view of both the harbor

and the breakwater is the main council chamber of the Brotherhood.

In the late afternoon, whitecaps crown the two-cubit-high waves off the southern tip of the

isle continent of Recluce. The same cool fall wind that raises the whitecaps blows through the

narrow western windows of the chamber and out the equally narrow eastern ones. The three

councilors sit behind the antique curved table that faces the now-empty chairs reserved for those

meeting with the Council.

"Maris, do you have any sense of what is coming?" The broad-shouldered mage in black looks at

the bearded man.

The thin-faced woman lifts a goblet and sips the green juice. Her eyes gaze blankly out the

wide window in the center of the southern wall, but she says nothing.

"You seem to think I'm blind because I'm a trader. We see things. We just see them

differently," offers Maris, the fingers of one hand brushing his square beard. "That's one of the

reasons why the Council has a trader, and not just-"

"Heldra represents the people, and you-" Talryn begins slowly.

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"Spare me the fancy words, Talryn." Maris sighs. "Heldra is a mage who is also a marine leader.

She represents arms, and the people with the coins to buy them. She also likes to play marine

leader in her spare time. I also represent coins, the traders with coins, and I detest playing

with blades. You represent the order-masters of the Brotherhood, who have few coins, but the black

iron warships and the power of wizardry. Arms, coins, and power, that's what we represent, and

you've got two votes in real terms because no one can make the Brotherhood do anything. But you

need our coins, and I need your visions." Marts pauses and sips from his goblet. "I can see that

there will be problems in Candar, but exactly where? I can also see that we're back to the problem

of chaos focuses again. Chaos focuses disrupt things in Candar, and that disrupts trade-every

time. But when? And in what market?"

"It doesn't seem to hamper the Hamorian traders," observes Heldra.

"They deal in mass-produced, low-cost goods, and that's what people buy in troubled times. We

deal in quality goods, and those are what people don't buy when there's trouble."

"Maybe you traders should take the words from the Hamorians' scrolls."

"Heldra, you can't be that stupid..." Mans fails to keep the exasperation from his voice. "The

only true commodity we could produce and export is iron, and you and Talryn have-"

"Enough," rumbles Talryn. "You were speaking about the problem of chaos focuses." His eyes

flicker toward the water beyond the harbor where the Gulf and the Eastern Ocean run together. His

fingers twist around the stem of his goblet. "We don't have a problem with chaos focuses right

now. The last one was Antonin, and young Lerris took care of him. Rather neatly, I might add."

"Too neatly." Heldra's sharp green eyes swing from Talryn to Maris and back to Talryn. She

purses her lips. "He cannot have been as ignorant as he seemed when he left here. No one could

have been that ignorant, not with Gunnar as his father."

"He was," insists Talryn. "You didn't teach him. I did."

"You said we don't have a problem with chaos focuses now. That would indicate that we might

before long." Maris fingers his beard again.

"All that chaos that Lerris released has to go somewhere." Talryn's fingers leave the stem of

the goblet.

"Have you talked to the Institute?" pursues Heldra.

"Gunnar, you mean? He may be a weather mage, but he's not a real part of the Brotherhood,"

points out Talryn. "The Institute-Gunnar, anyway-hasn't exactly been an ally of the Council, even

if he hasn't ever actively opposed the Council. If I asked, all he'd do is quote the Balance.

Besides, his son is part of the problem-his son and his brother."

"That's what I mean. Gunnar's the one who pushed his son into early dangergeld. Why?"

"Heldra..." Maris offers an exasperated sigh.

"He sent his son into dangergeld long before we detected his power. The boy didn't really even

know why he was going, for darkness's sake." Talryn clears his throat. "And Gunnar told us that

Lerris could be a danger to Recluce if he didn't undertake dangergeld early. That doesn't exactly

sound like favoritism, even from the head of the Institute."

"Yet, barely two years after Lerris completed dangergeld training, he took on and defeated a

white master who was also a chaos focus? We didn't train him as an order-master. So who did?"

Heldra sets down the goblet. "The whole thing is still hard to believe."

"You're both forgetting one thing," suggests Maris."Who did young Lerris just happen to run

into within an eight-day of arriving in Candar?"

"Justen." Heldra nods. "It was no accident."

"Maybe not," responds Maris, "but you haven't answered my question. Are we going to have

problems with another chaos focus? How soon? It might be nice for us traders to know where we

could run into trouble-before it happens."

"Trade, always trade," mutters Heldra.

"Trade pays the bills, and supports the trio, not to mention the Council and a lot of the

Brotherhood's expenses."

"Trade is important," interjects Talryn, "and we're still likely to have a problem with the

next chaos focus. I personally think it's going to be Gerlis, but I can't tell you when. Not yet,

anyway." Talryn pours greenberry into his empty goblet and takes a sip. "The amount of chaos seems

to be growing in Hydlen, and we don't know any other whites there. There's something happening in

Sligo, too."

"Wonderful." Maris coughs. "We have young Lerris in Kyphros, Gerlis in Hydlen, Justen going

wherever he wants, and now you tell me that there's going to be more trouble in Sligo. But you

can't tell me when."

"The trouble in Sligo is your humble would-be hermit," Talryn points out to Heldra.

"Is that the smith who wanted to be a scholar and teach the world?" asks Maris. "Sammel?"

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Talryn nods. "There are some volumes missing from the hidden shelves. Old volumes, some

attributed to Dorrin."

"You were all so worried about Lerris." Maris frowns. "He seems to keep to himself. If this

Sammel has all that old knowledge..."

"So Sammel has old knowledge? Who outside of Recluce-or Justen-has the ability to apply it?

That's exactly why I worry about Justen." Heldra shrugs. "He was an engineer, and gray wizardry is

the sort of bastardization that could destroy us all. Where chaos is concerned, nothing is

certain. We didn't know Lerris would become an order focus, either. Who's to say he might not

follow Justen?"

"We have time if that should occur." Talryn sips his greenberry. "Gerlis is a more imminent

problem. Especially with Colaris pushing to reclaim the Ohyde Valley."

"Ohyde hasn't been part of Freetown for hundreds of years." Maris snorts.

"They haven't forgotten, and Colaris is using the issue to stir people up."

"Just send one of the trio," suggests Heldra.

"Just in case." Maris nods. "Have the Llyse pay a port call in Renklaar."

"As you wish," Talryn answers.

"What about Lerris? Or Gunnar?" asks Heldra.

"Right now, there's nothing to be done. Do you want to take on Gunnar?" Talryn looks at Heldra.

"Or those he's gathered at the Institute?"

"No, thank you. Let sleeping dragons lie."

"You've been talking to Cassius again. We've never had dragons on our world. He admits they

didn't exist on his, either."

"Gunnar's still a sleeping dragon!"

"What about Justen?" asks Maris.

"Justen doesn't usually confront chaos focuses; he somehow works around them." Talryn takes a

deep breath. "That might be why he's survived so long. Somehow, he can anticipate what will

happen."

"You seem to be hinting..."

"I think young Lerris is going to get sucked into dealing with one chaos focus after another.

Justen is a gray wizard. We all know that."

"Lerris can't keep surviving chaos focuses," observes Maris. "Each one will get stronger."

"That's going to be a real problem," adds Heldra. "We'll be right back in the mess that existed

in the time of Fairhaven, and we don't want that. Even Gunnar wouldn't like that."

"No."

The three look to the whitecapped surface of the Eastern Ocean beyond the harbor.

III

WHILE KRYSTAL WAS filling in for Ferrel, and while Ferrel was investigating the brimstone spring,

I was working on the first chair of the set of eight for Hensil-the olive trader who owned groves

from Kyphrien to Dasir. Like everyone lately, he wanted something "original." He'd liked a sketch

of a square-backed armchair where the upper joined corners were more like arcs than right angles.

The design took four dowellike shaft-spokes around a long diamond brace with his initial in the

center. I couldn't turn the shaft-spokes all the way down because the middles had to be grooved.

So I worked on one of them.

I was worried about the chair. The spokes still didn't feel right. I hadn't been sure of the

proportions. That happens the first time on a new design, and I'd rough-cut them too big. My

frugal side told me not to waste the wood, but that meant a lot of work. Planing cherry is hard

work, even after turning it down as much as possible.

I'd gotten one almost rough-finished, and it was time to start on the rest of the set. The

grooved spokes were the hardest. What I needed to do first was steam and bend the backs, since the

longer and more gently I worked the wood, the stronger they'd be. While they were setting, I could

go back to the time-consuming work of the spokes and the diamond backplate with the inlaid initial

H.

As usual, nothing worked quite as I planned. I didn't have enough clamps to do more than two

backs at a time, and the glue I'd made had gotten too thick.

While I was mumbling to myself about that, a single horse galloped into the yard. That was bad.

Krystal never rode alone, not anymore, and no one galloped unless it was a trooper in a hurry.

Although the last eight-day had been uneventful, that could change at any moment, especially when

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I had actually been seeing Krystal more than occasionally.

I ran out. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Order-master, ser... nothing." Weldein drew back in his saddle, brushing his long and

lank blond hair back off his forehead. He did not wear either his cap or battle helm. "Leader

Yelena sent me to fetch you. The subcommander and the autarch want to see you immediately."

"Just a moment." I went back into the shop, cleaned and racked the saws I'd been using, and put

away the clamps. I studied the chairs and the desk in the corner for a moment, then nodded before

heading out to the washroom and the shower. I did take a few moments to shave, both for comfort

and appearance. A little stubble wasn't bad, but more than that just made my face look dirty, and

it itched if I sweated at all.

I dressed in my best, my good browns that were decidedly modest for an audience with the

autarch, and I wondered how Deirdre and Bostric were making out. Memories, and the good browns,

were all I really had of Deirdre, old Destrin's lovely daughter. It wouldn't have worked, but I

did wish her and Bostric the best. Someday, he'd even be a decent woodworker. After changing, I

went out to the stable, saddled Gairloch, and walked him out into the yard.

"You wizards and your ponies, and your bridles that are not bridles," said Weldein, still

waiting patiently.

"We can't spare the time to ride those monsters you use." Besides, Gairloch answered easily to

gentle pressure on the hackamore.

Weldein laughed, and we turned onto the highway back to Kyphrien.

"Where am I supposed to meet Krystal?"

"In her quarters. Then you'll go to see the autarch."

The autarch didn't really have a palace, more like a walled residence that adjoined the guard

complex housing the Finest, who were the mounted troops that formed the core of the autarch's

forces. There was a much smaller crack infantry, but generally they only served as the autarch's

personal guard when she actually led forces into battle. Most ground troops were drawn from the

outliers, and they were locally recruited and housed in barracks all around Kyphros. That lack of

a large central military force had almost been the autarch's undoing in the recent war with the

Prefect of Gallos.

I guided Gairloch through the open gates behind Weldein and toward the front stable. The ostler

outside the guard area looked stolidly at me, but said nothing, only nodded. I couldn't blame

him... not too much. After stabling Gairloch in the end stall with the lower headroom, I walked

outside, and Weldein saluted me before turning his mount toward the guard stables.

"Good day, Order-master."

"Good day to you, Weldein."

"And to you, ser." He tipped the cap he had put on just before we entered the autarch's walls.

I walked across the paved courtyard and entered the main building, where Bidek looked away as I

passed. Herreld was the guard outside Krystal's door, and he rapped on it, but didn't let me in.

He never did, not without Krystal's command, and I'd never pressed it.

"Yes... good! You're here." She motioned, and I stepped past Herreld.

Once the door was closed, and I saw that no one else was in the conference room, I gave her a

hug, but didn't get as far as a kiss.

"I love you, too, but we don't have much time before we meet with Kasee." Her eyes had deep

circles under them, and she pursed her lips after speaking.

"What's the problem?"

"Ferrel's dead. At least, we think she is."

"That wizard of the new Duke's?"

"Something like that. I'll tell you what we know when we get to Kasee's study."

That was serious. I'd never been invited to the autarch's private study. Krystal did give in

and kissed me warmly, if quickly, after she pulled on the vest-jacket with all the braid

proclaiming her the subcommander. She straightened her blade, the same one I had bought for her in

Recluce when we were still training for the dangergeld, back when I thought she giggled too much,

and when she probably wished I'd grow up. She had stopped giggling, mostly, but I felt I still had

some growing up to do, even if I was considered an adult with a profession-or two of them.

We walked down one flight of stairs and turned right- toward the wing with the autarch's

quarters, offices, dining rooms, who knew what else. Even as a walled residence, and not a palace,

the place smelled important-scented lamp oil, wood polishes, a spray of lemon incense, and,

underlying it all, the distant odor of polished metal and working leather.

The whole setup was much less grandiose than, say, the palace of the Prefect of Gallos, with

its fountains and columns, and carpets. The modesty impressed me. There were two guards outside

the study door, the no-nonsense kind that look able to cut you apart and not raise a sweat.

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Krystal and I could have taken them, but, then, she could have done it single-handedly.

The autarch, who insisted I call her Kasee, even if I didn't always think of her on a name

basis, sat behind a wide table heaped with parchment, scrolls, and even a set of ledgers. She did

not stand up when we entered.

The table wasn't that good despite all the ornamentation, and I could see where the grain

hadn't been quite aligned right in the inlays, and that the larger spooling on the front legs was

too much larger and visually unbalanced the piece, so much that it seemed to tilt forward.

I bowed.

"Order-master." She gave me a respectful nod in return. "I wish I were glad to see you, Lerris.

I have this feeling that I'll always see you either before or after some disaster." Her black hair-

shot with silver-gray-was not neat, as at functions, but unruly, and she had a black smudge above

one eyebrow. The green eyes met mine for a moment, not quite twinkling.

"I hope not.: ."I still didn't feel right not putting a title in, and my words trailed off.

"That's the problem facing wizards and rulers. No one really wants us around, and all their

troubles are our fault." She brushed a strand of silver-gray hair back off her forehead before

continuing. "Krystal has told you about Ferrel?"

"Only that you believe she is dead. We came immediately, and Krystal didn't have time to tell

me everything."

"There isn't much else. There were two survivors, lucky laggards."

"How many did you lose?"

"Two squads." Krystal rubbed her forehead. "That's just as we're finally getting back up to

strength. You can't train good troops overnight."

"Do you know how?"

Krystal and Kasee exchanged glances. Finally, Krystal spoke. "No. The two troopers who escaped

said the Hydlenese troops-or the wizard-used some sort of firebolts. They were waiting for

Ferrel."

"Did Ferrel just march down the road toward the spring?"

"No. She took a side road, not much better than a trail, according to the troopers. They were a

good twenty kays from the spring when they were ambushed. The whole thing doesn't make any sense.

Why would Berfir start something now? He's got his hands full with Duke Colaris. Colaris is

talking about reclaiming the Ohyde Valley."

Kasee took a deep breath, and I looked at her.

"Freetown and Hydlen have been fighting over the valley and the control of Renklaar for as long

as there's been history. Hydlen's held it since before the fall of Fairhaven," the autarch

explained, "but no one seems to forget. They have long memories."

"And long knives," added Krystal.

"So that's why he needs the brimstone spring? Is he going to try to use cannon against

Colaris?" I speculated.

"It could be, but he would be gambling that Colaris couldn't round up a white wizard," mused

Krystal.

"Given Colaris's reputation, that's not much of a gamble. All of the dukes of Freetown have

been rather brutal, and frugal, and Colaris is cast in the same mold," said Kasee. "But Berfir is

very practical, from all reports, and he could hang onto the spring, string us out, and finally

give it back after he got a lot of brimstone. Why deliberately start another border conflict?"

"It doesn't make sense. Not from what we know," ventured Krystal.

"I wonder if there were any vulcrows around."

"Is there anything to that?" asked Kasee. "You think this is tied up with another white

wizard?"

"I don't know, but Antonin used one to spy on me. And, remember, Antonin really didn't care who

won between you and the Prefect. He only wanted to increase his powers, just like all white

wizards."

"How did anyone ever overcome them?" asked Kasee dryly.

"I think it took about a thousand years and enough power to melt Frven," I answered.

"We don't have that much time or power." Krystal pursed her lips.

"Has anyone seen Justen?" I asked. "He should know something."

"I talked to Tamra this morning," Krystal said. "He left two days ago."

"Rather convenient," observed the autarch.

"She didn't go with him?"

"According to Tamra, Justen told her that she was now perfectly able to take care of herself

for a while and he needed a holiday. He was headed west, but he didn't say where he was going."

Both women looked at me.

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Modesitt, L.E. - Recluce 11 - The Death of Chaos

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