5.Death of Chaos
XXXIX
THE NEXT MORNING, while Krystal was pulling on her uniform, I hobbled out to the table, dark as it was outside. After Tamra's visit, it didn't look as if I were going to have that much time to lie around. Besides, I was well enough that I didn't feel like lying in bed once Krystal left for the barracks, no matter how early it was.
I worried, because she probably wouldn't have been home, except I was hurt, and the getting home late and the getting up early meant she didn't get much sleep. But I liked having her sleep beside me.
Rissa set a cup of herb tea down. “You look like you need this.”
Whether I needed it or not, I was going to get it. It didn't taste like much, unlike the awful stuff they had poured down me to get me to heal.
Then Rissa set the bread down, just moments before Krystal sat down, her short hair in place, her vest on, and her blade clanking against the chair.
I patted her leg and got a smile as she reached for her own mug of tea.
From the darkness in the yard came the sounds of horses being saddled and readied. Rissa set a bowl of dried peaches and pearapples between us.
“You go first. I'm not exactly going anywhere.” I nodded to Krystal, and she smiled again.
“It won't be that long before you will.”
Perron came through the door, and Krystal motioned to the table. “Have them all come in and get something to eat.”
“Yes, ser.”
After he stepped into the yard, Krystal added, “They all want to see you anyway.”
“Me?”
She snorted.
“Greetings, Order-master,” Perron said.
Haithen, another woman, and a man walked in and sat at the table. Rissa set out two more bowls of dried fruit and two more loaves of the dark bread.
“Herbal tea?” asked the woman trooper I didn't know, a brunette with a sharp nose, as she broke off a chunk of bread.
“It doesn't taste like much, but it's supposed to help.” I took some bread and a handful of dried peaches. “Is there any cheese?”
“It's only the yellow stuff, Master Lerris.”
“Better than nothing,” I groaned. “Let's have it.”
After Rissa set the block on the table, I cut two slices, left-handed and a bit awkwardly, then passed the yellow cheese to Krystal.
There wasn't much left, large as it had been, after Krystal's guard took their slices, a reminder that being the commander's consort was costly in not-so-obvious ways.
Haithen finally spoke. “How come you can't heal yourself?”
The other guards looked as if they had wanted to ask the same question.
“I could... but I couldn't do much of anything ever again, and if I ever got tired, I'd fall apart.” I tried to explain. “Order-mastery takes strength and skill-just like handling a blade. Haithen, why don't you carry a two-hand blade?”
“It's too heavy, especially riding. I'd lose my balance.”
“The same thing's true about wizardry. When I went up against the first white wizard, I only had to touch him with my staff after I cut him off from his power. With his power gone, he was already dying. If I used pure order to heal myself, if I ever lost my power or strength, I'd fall apart. When I got older, I'd die.” I held up my good hand to stop the objections. “Now, another wizard could help a little, and that's what some healers do. I can use order to keep chaos out of my body and to help the bones knit. I'll heal faster than I would otherwise, and the bones will knit straight.”
“Is that why healers can't help very many wounded?” Haithen asked.
I nodded. “Each time you try to heal someone, it takes energy. A healer can use so much order that it can kill the healer and save the patient.”
“That's why you carry a staff?” Perron frowned.
“It's not that simple. You can't kill or hurt someone with order-not directly. They say that a storm-wizard can use order to create a storm, and the storm can kill people. That takes time, and it wouldn't work very well in a battle.”
“But you killed the white wizard.”
“No. I helped him kill himself.” I forced a laugh. “You also may have seen what a mess it made.”
“... still don't understand...” mumbled the other woman. “You destroyed a whole valley, and you have to carry a staff to protect yourself?”
“What am I supposed to do if a trooper comes swinging at me with a blade? I can't turn chaos on him.” I looked at the woman. “Or her. And I don't know how to create storms.”
“But you did. It rained for days.”
I had to grin. “How much good did that do me?”
Haithen laughed, at least.
“This is interesting,” said Krystal, “but the autarch is expecting me right after morning muster.”
They all gulped down the remnants of whatever they were eating, as if it were their last meal. Then they headed for the yard, bowing to Rissa.
“Thank you, Rissa.” Perron gave her a deeper bow.
“Thank you.” Rissa-no-nonsense Rissa-flushed.
Perron grinned and turned.
As Krystal stood, so did I, even if it took levering myself up on the table and holding tight to a rough cane.
“You don't-”
“I can't lie around forever.” I hugged her.
“I don't want you limping for life to prove something. You don't have to be a hero at home.” She did kiss me, though.
I stood in the door as she swung into the saddle and rode into the gray of the dawn, back toward Kyphrien, and training sessions, logistics, planning, politics, discipline-all the details that took so much more time than fighting.
After that I hobbled back to the table and sank into a chair, while Rissa put things away.
“I'm doing more bread, Master Lerris. Any kind you want more of?”
“I'm partial to the dark.”
“I know. Like Commander Krystal.”
“That's not-”
“You're too serious for a young fellow.” She laughed.
I did smile.
“And have some more cheese and bread.”
“Yes, Mother Rissa.”
She sniffed, but she sniffed with a smile.
After cutting a thick slice of bread and a wedge of cheese, I ate and sat at the table for a time, letting my fingers trace the design. The curves with the curlicues had been the hardest part, and I had vowed to avoid that kind of elaboration again. If I looked at them sideways, they looked almost chaotic.
Woodwork can't be chaotic, not really, but the swirls reminded me of the intertwined order and chaos I had felt, felt and tapped, beneath the brimstone spring. Were order and chaos really intertwined that closely?
I recalled those few words Justen had said to me when he had started to heal me-something about a demon-time to do order-chaos balances. Idly, I let my senses focus on my arm. It was still tender, and bound in heavy leather, but the bone hadn't snapped the way my leg had. Part of the arm had a strange design, almost as if the chaotic tiny bits that exist within everyone were imbedded in larger pieces of order.
I swallowed, recalling that Justen's whole body had been like that when I had looked at him with my order senses.
“Rissa?”
“Yes, Master Lerris?”
“Would you come here?”
Lifting her eyebrows, Rissa stepped closer to the table.
“Just put your arm next to mine.”
“That's all?”
“That's all.” I compared the two. Parts of my arm were different, seen that way, just like the way I had seen Justen's.
“You done? I still have bread to bake.”
“Oh... yes. Thank you.”
“Wizards...” Rissa left with a flip of her short hair.
Could I reorder the arm, all of the part around the healing bone, the same way? I concentrated, and a tiny little section seemed to change. My fingers shook, and my eyes burned. I stopped because I had to put my head down on the table.
“Master Lerris! Master Lerris!”
“I'm all right. I just got tired.”
“You get up and get back in that bed. You almost died, and here you are trying to pretend you're all healthy.” Rissa marched up beside me. “There's nobody looking, and you don't have to show all the Finest that you're the toughest wizard ever. Lean on me, and we're getting you back to that bed for some rest.”
So I did, and it felt good to lie down. I even dozed off. Maybe I did have to lie around a little longer.