5.Death of Chaos
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.