Chaos Balance
X
LEPHI GAZED OUT across the polished white tiles of the Great Hall of Cyad and stifled a yawn. Just below the oversized malachite and silver throne, to the Lord of Cyador's right, stood the white wizard Themphi. Farther below and to the left loomed Duhru, the Voice of His Mightiness.
“We might as well get this facade over with,” muttered the Lord of Cyador. “Announce the receiving of petitions.”
“His Mightiness Lephi the White, Lord of Cyador, ruler of all lands from the mountains of the skies to the oceans of the west, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, Son of the Rational Stars, stands ready to receive the petitions of his people. Those with worthy petitions, draw near with good conscience.” Duhru's voice boomed across the great hall, and the three-story-high gilded doors in the rear of the hall slid open nearly silently, the hiss of steam merely a whisper lost in the vastness of the chamber.
Three figures slowly marched across the white tiles and stood on the shimmering and spotless tiles beneath the throne.
“Declare your petition,” rumbled Duhru, “if you are without darkness and a follower of the way of whiteness.”
The first petitioner-a mid-aged man wearing the white surplice of a petitioner over heavy work trousers and tunic- bowed. “Most powerful Lord of Cyador, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, hear my petition.”
“The Lord hears all,” responded Duhru. “State your petition.”
“The officers of the Eighth Mirror Lancers have dishonored my youngest daughter, and I ask redress. Only you can restore her honor.”
Lephi glanced toward Themphi.
“They say they used no force, and that they offered a dozen silvers toward her dowry,” whispered the white wizard.
“Those officers have honored your daughter,” declared Lephi. “I will also increase that honor by adding two golds to that dowry.”
The stocky man bowed, his forehead slick with sweat. “I seek no dowry. I seek honor. I humbly ask that you dishonor those officers. No officer of the greatest lord should defile a young girl.”
“The Lord of Cyador has heard your petition,” boomed Duhru. “You may go and tell all of his generosity.”
“NO!” The white-clad man charged the steps to the dais. “Your officers are pigs. They are sows, and you slop them.” A flaming arrow flashed from the balcony gratework, the mark of an Archer of the Rational Stars, catching the man in the chest. The other two petitioners watched, mouths partly open as the first petitioner crumpled.
After a nod from Lephi toward Themphi, a fireball arced toward the dying man, then exploded. Only a handful of scattered ashes sifted through the air.
“Question the lancer officers. If they dishonored the girl, do what is necessary. If not, have her join her father.”
“So it is with unworthy petitions and petitioners, and those who reject the generosity of the lord,” intoned Duhru. “Let the next petitioner offer his petition.”
“Most puissant Lord of Cyador, Protector of the Steps to Paradise, the citizens of Wybar humbly beseech Your Mightiness for a token of his support for the blessing of the new river piers.” The elderly man in the white surplice added in a wavering tone, “Only a token, Your Mightiness.”
“They are fearful because Wybar is downstream from the Accursed Forest,” Themphi explained.
Lephi nodded. “You shall have such a token. May your piers bring all prosperity and good trade.”
“May the next petitioner approach,” rumbled Duhru, “if he is without darkness and a follower of the way of whiteness.”
“Your Supreme Mightiness . . . the peasants in Geliendra have presented a petition, and the regional governor has endorsed it.” The functionary in gold bowed twice. On the second bow, droplets of perspiration splattered on the polished white tiles of the floor.
“Lick those up, Husenar. I don't like the floors soiled, especially when my administrators are acting for others.”
Husenar complied, then straightened, standing stiffly.
“What about this petition? Why need it be brought to me? Why did they not present it themselves?”
“The Accursed... Forest... rods and rods of the rice fields and the bean fields-those not already flooded-they are gone.”
“Gone?”
“The forest has awakened-”
“The Forest of the Nameless? Have the wards failed? The wards have never failed.”
Husenar bowed again. “The wards are no more, and the forest lives.”
“I have taken their petition under advisement, and I will act accordingly.”
After the petitioners and Duhru departed and the doors closed, Lephi turned to Themphi. “About that mess with the Eighth Mirror-”
“They could not so dishonor a peasant.”
“Themphi . . . did you not hear what I said? When a man is so distraught he will die rather than accept two years' wages for a dowry, something is wrong. She is doubtless a spineless wench, but when peasants believe such girls are innocent they do not pay taxes, except under duress, and we do not need that now. I tell you again: you will find the guilty parties. If they are the officers, they can also choose duty to protect the people of Geliendra from the Accursed Forest-for the rest of their lives.” Lephi smiled coldly. “I want every peasant to know that I heard and acted, and every officer to know that girls outside the households of officers or the pleasure class are to be left untouched. I do not care how many paid concubines they have, but they must be sure that the purchases of concubines are well witnessed. Well witnessed.” He paused. “Of course, if it is the girl, and you had best be very sure, then she should be publicly violated by at least a company of Mirror armsmen. Whatever happens, I want both punishment choices made public, so that I receive no more petitions such as this.”
Themphi swallowed.
“Send some of the engineers to check the forest, and the wards. How could they possibly have failed?”
“I do not know.” Themphi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “The wards are very old, and the ancient accounts record that the forest was cunning and patient before it was restrained.”
“Then you will go and repair the damage, and restrain the forest once again. After you complete your work on this mess with the girl. Send no engineers from the Second. We need them to re-create the fireships, to reclaim the ocean from the eastern traders.” Lephi stared at the wizard. “Had your predecessors not allowed the ancient fireships to deteriorate, we would have no such problems.”
“Sire, they had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
“Not where chaos is concerned.” Themphi ignored the dampness on his forehead.
“Do you question your Emperor, Themphi?”
“Emperors have choices, Sire, except where order and chaos meet. The same is true of wizards. I cannot change what was and is, even at your command.”
“Bah . . . you sound just like Triendar. Do they cast spells over you when you are young so that you all sound alike?”
“Chaos and order do not change because we exist, Sire.” Themphi shifted his weight again.
“Wizard, your powers must serve Cyad, not the other way around. See that they do, or your nephew's children or his children's children will bow under the yoke of the easterners. Lands either become more powerful or less powerful and then perish. I intend to make sure Cyador becomes more powerful. You may go.”
“Yes, Sire.”