5.Death of Chaos
LXVI
THE COUNTESS OF Montgren-a white-haired, lean, and tanned woman in spotless light blue leathers-waited by the edge of the corral filled with sheep. Beside her stood two guards, carrying rifles and wearing short blades.
Justen brushed back short hair that bore more than mere traces of silver. Tamra took a deep breath, trying not to sag against the fence rails, then brushed away a large fly that circled back toward her again.
Baa... baaa... bdahhh...
Behind the two mages, the sheep continued to mill in the corral, and the odors of raw wool, dust, and dung accompanied the noise.
The redheaded mage sneezed and wiped her nose, then wiped it again.
“Is it almost as bad as three years ago?” asked the Countess Merella of Montgren.
Justen blotted his forehead. “Worse, I think. Or I'm older and more tired.”
Tamra took another deep breath, letting her senses flick across the animals in the corral, feeling the scattered white chaos.
“What happened to your last apprentice?” asked the Countess.
“He's done fine... if you consider destroying three white wizards and nearly getting killed twice a form of success. He's a woodcrafter in Kyphros most of the time.” The gray wizard looked at the Countess, then around the area. The bodyguards stood well back from the three. “What are you going to do about Hamor?”
“What can I do?” The Countess shrugged. “My guard is less than twentyscore, and I could raise perhaps a thousand in levies, as the Hamorian envoy has been so kind as to point out.”
She smiled bitterly. “My daughter and son both died, not long after Herril, and I have no direct heirs. That makes it easy. My nephew is not pleased, but he understands.”
“You name the throne of Hamor as your heir, and you administer Montgren for the Emperor?” asked Justen.
“You have a better answer, Mage?”
Justen shook his head slowly.
“That way, my people don't suffer again the way they did when mad Korweil defied Frven. The hilltop where his keep sat still won't grow more than thistles and grass.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment. “As for wizardry... I have no desire for Vergren to look like Frven or the deadlands-assuming I could find a willing wizard.”
Tamra's eyes grew hard, but she said nothing, even after the Countess turned to her.
“There's an obligation to ruling, Magistra, just like there is an obligation to magic.” Merella nodded curtly, and turned to Justen. “Tomorrow... the pens outside Vergren?”
Justen nodded.
After the Countess and her guards had left, Tamra asked, “What was that business about mad Korweil?”
“Korweil was the Duke who gave Creslin and Megaera sanctuary-you know, the Founders of Recluce. He thought he could hold off the wizards. They burned most of the meadows, killed most of the flocks, and leveled his keep.”
“Could Hamor do that?”
“There's not much difference between a firebolt and a good cannon-not now, except that all those ships and cannon create free chaos through the Balance, a great deal more than I-or Recluce-ever anticipated.”
“Can't you use order to control it?”
“Absolutely.” Justen offered a hard smile before asking, “Do you want to be the one who tries to channel it? That's what Lerris did, you know.”
“Oh... Will he try it again?”
“Given Lerris, probably. But I don't really want to be anywhere near when he does.”
“Will we have a choice?” Tamra persisted.
Justen lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “We've got a lot more sheep waiting. You can start.”