5.Death of Chaos
XXII
GUNNAR WALKED UP the stone-paved lane from the road toward the black stone building that covered the crest of the low hill. Several scattered chirps rose from the thin and graying leaves of the trees in the cherry and apple groves on each side of the lane.
He turned and glanced eastward, in the direction of Wandernaught, noting the single rider on the road from the town to the Institute for Order Studies. Then he turned and continued walking through the fall wind and the rustling of the dry leaves toward the solid black stone archway that defined the entrance to the Temple portion of the Institute. Behind him, a flurry of wings rose above the faint hissing of the breeze as the birds headed for stubbled fields farther downhill from the groves.
When he could hear the chatter of hooves on the road, he turned.
The rider was bareheaded-a tall and slender woman with slightly silvered blond hair. As she drew abreast of the tall mage, she reined up and dismounted.
“Elisabet! I hadn't expected you.” Gunnar offered a quick hug to his sister.
Whuff!
A single look from Elisabet quieted the stallion.
“You should have. Even I can sense the conflict.” The breeze rippled through her short hair. “But I always have to come find you.”
“Even you could sense it?” Gunnar laughed. “You'd be the first to sense that.”
“Not always.” In three quick turns, she wrapped the leathers around the iron ring on the hitching post.“And the time will come when you'll have to seek out others.”
“Perhaps. You may be right.” Gunnar glanced toward the young man and woman who approached from the doorway that led to the smaller meeting hall.
“Magister Gunnar,” asked the redheaded woman, “have you read the essay?”
Gunnar nodded. “I'll have to talk to you about it later. You're still having a problem in confusing order with an abstraction of 'good.' Order is not necessarily good. Nor is evil necessarily dependent on chaos. You think about that...”
“But I did, ser.”
Gunnar took a deep breath. “I'll talk to you in a bit.”
“Yes, ser.”
The man looked hard at Gunnar. Gunnar caught his eyes, and the young man paled, then turned. The two walked quickly back toward the lecture room.
“You do that so well, Gunnar. You end up terrifying them all.” Elisabet finished her sentence with a gentle laugh.
“Hardly. Half of them hate me, probably including my own son. That doesn't include the Brotherhood. Talryn thinks I set up the Institute as a rival to the Brotherhood-as if I'd ever wanted to get involved in politics.” He gestured to the stone-paved path to his left. “Let's walk down to the garden. We're less likely to be interrupted.”
“I don't think Lerris hates you. Not any longer. You were hard on him, but it was better that way. So was Sardit. I think it bothered him to be so strict about the woodworking. But understanding and explanation don't always work. Sometimes, children have to face the hard consequences of their actions. After all, you tried to explain everything with Martan.”
“And you never had children.”
“I had you and Justen.”
“Little sister... that was your choice, Elisabet, and, in some ways, I suspect you're the happier for it. How is Sardit?”
“Well. He enjoys the order of the wood so much. How is Donara?”
“Well. She still enjoys creating order with the pottery.”
They both laughed as they walked toward the black stone bench that overlooked the waist-high hedge maze whose outer border had been grown and trimmed into the outline of Candar. Below the flat area that held the maze, a stretch of short grass perhaps a hundred cubits wide separated the maze from the slope where the orchards resumed. Above the bench, another slope of grass rose gently to the wide windows on the south side of the main Institute building.
Elisabet settled onto the east end of the bench, tucking one trousered leg crossways under her.
“I've never been able to understand why you do that,” said Gunnar.
“Just because. It's comfortable.” She squared her shoulders. “You're busy, and I won't take that much time. But you wouldn't volunteer to tell me.” She grinned at her older brother and cleared her throat. "Neither you nor Justen ever did. So I came to find you.
“Chaos is welling up everywhere, and I don't sense any great increase in order. Has the Balance stopped functioning? I thought that was impossible.”
“It's functioning.” Gunnar sat heavily on the other end of the bench and looked at the maze. “I don't know where the additional order is, but it has to be somewhere. There's no sense of imbalance. You already know that.”
Elisabet nodded. “I worry about Lerris and Justen. Most of the chaos seems to be in Candar.”
“I worry, too.” Gunnar's eyes flicked toward the clouds rising above the low western hills.
“What can we do?”
“What we must.” The tall mage shrugged. “What we must.”
“Times are finally changing, I think.”
“They are, especially in Hamor, and things will not be the same. The Council doesn't seem to understand that.” Gunnar stood as three black-clothed figures scrambled down the path toward them. “They and the Brotherhood will be out to blame the Institute or me or Lerris.”
“Have you talked to them?”
“Unfortunately. They still seem to think I want to take their positions. As if I couldn't have been on the Council years ago.” He snorted.
“If you hear from Lerris or Justen...”
“I'll let you know. You know I'd let you know.” Elisabet rose and gave her brother a quick hug. “Your students seem to have found you.”
“They always do.”
The two walked up the path toward the three who had sought out Gunnar.
Behind them, the wind whispered through the hedge grown into the maze that represented Candar.