5.Death of Chaos
CXVI
AS THE CAPTAIN of the Dylyss had promised, a Nordlan ship did enter the bay and dock at Ruzor less than three days later. The Feydr Queen, like the Eidolon that had brought us to Candar, was an older vessel, with paddles and shining brasswork.
“Our passage is being paid by the Council,” my father said as we walked up the pier.
“So kind of them,” groused Justen, “since they need our help.”
“They'll take us to Land's End, though, not Nylan.”
“That's five days' ride from Nylan, and they expect us...” Tamra went on to say how stupid it was for the Council not to have just transported us on the Dylyss. Somehow, I thought the Council decision perfectly understandable. Not wise, but understandable in light of their fears.
I was thinking, momentarily, of Gairloch, who remained in the stables at Ruzor, since the Feydr Queen had no stalls, nor equipment for handling horses. Berli had promised to take care of him, and of Rosefoot, and that was all I could ask.
As we walked up the plank, the master nodded to each of us, but the more interesting words came from the mutterings of the crew.
“... more damned wizards than I've ever seen...”
“... better be a bonus on this run...”
“... she's a druid...”
“... a druid? Oh, shit...”
“... three gray wizards.”
“... beyond shit, Murek.”
I wasn't sure that I liked being classified as beyond manure, a dubious distinction at best.
Somehow, Tamra, Krystal, and I, and Haithen, shared a cabin, while Justen and Dayala had the smallest one to themselves, and Weldein, my father, and the two other guards, Dercas and Jinsa, shared the third.
No sooner were we on board, though, than the lines were loosed and the paddle wheels engaged, and with a continuous thump, thump, thump, the Feydr Queen was on her way seaward.
Side by side at the polished wooden railing, Krystal and I watched Ruzor dwindle, the faintly acrid smoke from the stack swirling around us intermittently.
“Still glad you wanted to come?”
“Glad?” asked Krystal. “No. We belong together. That's not a question of glad or sad. I wish we could stay in Ruzor, but we can't. Hamor would come and destroy it.”
So I had to find a way to destroy them, or their fleet.
“Yes.” She answered the unspoken thought, as was becoming ever more common between us.
I had an idea, only an idea, about how to do it. Of course, it would take every bit of molten iron beneath Recluce and beneath the Gulf, plus every bit of storm energy my father and Tamra could raise, plus more luck and good fortune than ever seen anywhere-and it still might not work.
I shook my head.
“I'm sorry.” Krystal squeezed my hand.
“So am I, but-”
“-we have to do what we have to do,” Krystal finished.
After the Queen left the bay, the ship began to pitch, and Tamra hung over the rail. She had been terribly sick on the way to Candar, as well.
This time, though, Weldein stayed by her. Unlike me, the first time, he had sense enough not to talk, just to be there. The young subofficer had guts, that was certain. I still worried about his judgment, since Tamra wasn't always gentle.
Justen and Dayala stood at the railing near the stern, their hair fluffed in the slight breeze.
“I need to talk to Dayala. Would you mind?” Krystal asked.
I could sense both the concern and a need. “No. Not too much, anyway.”
“It's for us, but I'd feel...” She was telling the truth about that.
I had to smile. “Go ahead.”
She walked along the polished rail, toward the stern. As I watched, the two women leaned over the rail, enjoying the brisk breeze and the sunlight. Dayala frowned at something, and Krystal touched her arm. Finally, Dayala nodded and smiled, but the smile was a sad one.
The druid seemed to be explaining something, and I turned away. Whatever it was, Dayala could explain it far better than I could. Far better, I suspected, than Justen could.
Justen stepped away and headed forward, finally leaning on the rail beside me. “How are you doing?”
“You mean how am I coming in developing mass destruction and disaster?”
“It might help if you didn't look at it quite that way.”
“I'm not. It's going to take a lot of iron, and a lot of order, and a storm and who knows what else.”
He waited.
“I think I can do what you did, but open a channel through the water if there are order-based storms in the skies.”
“For three hundred ships?”
“I was thinking of the water they were sailing across acting as a chaos-binding agent.”
“Steaming across,” Justen corrected automatically, before frowning. “It might work. It would take a great deal of order.”
He was right about that, and I didn't really want to think about how much order.
“If you start preparing the channels ahead of time, you might be able to make it work.”
“How soon?”
. “As soon as you set foot on Recluce.” He nodded to Krystal. “Your consort thinks in large terms.”
“We have a large problem.” Her laugh was forced, too.
“We do, unfortunately.” Justen turned.
“What were you and Justen talking about?”
“Death, disaster, and destruction, and how to create them.” I forced a bit of a laugh. Justen slipped away.
“You don't feel that way.”
“No.” I looked at her. “It's already getting harder, isn't it?”
“To be deceptive? Yes.”
“I don't like what I'm planning, and I don't have any better solutions. Neither does Justen.”
“That bothers him. That's what Dayala said.”
“It bothers us both, then.”
She squeezed my arm for a moment, and I could feel the warmth and the affection. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.
“You don't do that often.”
“Not often enough.”
So Krystal and I talked and watched Tamra and Weldein and the crew until we were called to eat.
When we entered the mess, my father was sitting at the end of one of the wooden tables bolted to the floor. “The tea's strong. You can smell that, but the biscuits are hot. The cheese will be dry and flaky.”
“Resting?” I asked.
“Thinking,” he answered with a smile.
Dry, flaky cheese or not, the biscuits and tea were good, and so was the dried fruit-if chewy.
After the plain and dry-but filling-dinner, Krystal and I went back out on deck.
The foam where the bow cut the water almost seemed to glow in the late twilight, and the pitching of the ship was less. Tamra was up near the bow, where the breeze was strongest.
“Do we ever escape our past?” I wondered, thinking about returning to Recluce.
“Not often,” interjected Justen as he and Dayala neared. “People think they can, but”-he shrugged-“most of us won't pay the price.”
“Why not?” asked Krystal quietly. “Is it that high?”
“High enough,” answered Dayala. “Who wishes to admit honestly her mistakes, and not blame them on someone else? Who can accept the understanding that we cannot change the past, only the present?”
We both shivered, and our hands reached for each other's.