5.Death of Chaos
LXXI
DESPITE THE HENHOUSE, the chores, and woodworking, Wegel, with some help from me, got his own narrow room finished enough to use. He would have plenty of chances to improve his craft, since he needed just about every item of furniture, although Faslik brought over a nice single bed. I did provide a lamp, and the oil, which was another item getting dearer by the eight-day. A lot of the increased prices and shortages weren't the result of real shortages, but of greed and fear. It would be seasons, if ever, before the Empire could take over Candar, although the black Brotherhood of Recluce had done precious little. Somehow, I didn't think that would last.
I'd managed to ride down to the south side of Kyphrien and commission some more hinges from Merrin-far less elaborate and expensive. I hadn't seen Yense or his accomplice, but I'd left Merrin's door open just in case.
After wiping my forehead and looking around the too-dusty shop, I took a long drink from the pitcher-the dry heat of Kyphros pulled water out of my body like an oven-dried bread dough. I offered the pitcher to Wegel, but he shook his head. He didn't seem to need the water as much as I did, but then he'd been born in Kyphros.
“Sweep up the chips and the damned red dust, first...”
“B-but... M-m-master Lerris... it'll just...just g-g-get d-d-dusty again.”
“I know, but I believe in struggling against disorder even when it's futile.”
The blond young man shook his head sadly and picked up the broom. I picked up a soft rag. The red dust was gritty, and it had a tendency to stain the light-colored woods if it got damp. The way I was sweating, even wiping my forehead continually wasn't enough to keep some moisture from hitting the wood. I was making it a habit to dust anything I worked on before I started.
After the dust from the sweeping settled, I was going to put a finish coat on Durrik's chest. I shook my head. The finish coat should be the last work of the day, when no more dust was being raised, and when the wind died down. Thinking? What about thinking, Lerris?
Instead of working on finishing the chest, I smoothed the inside lids of the dowry chest until there was space enough for a finish coat there.
Plane and wipe my forehead. Plane and wipe; plane and wipe... the pattern was tedious, but it worked.
After that, we cut the last of the planks for another set of traveling chests-not that we had a buyer, but if Preltar were that nervous, there had to be others, and the chests weren't that difficult to make. Wegel could do a pair while I did more finish work on Antona's desk and on Zieber's case. “J-J-Jahunt b-be here,” said Wegel. “Jahunt?” I set down the plane on the bench and walked out onto the porch where the one-eyed peddler stood. Even with the light breeze, the morning was hot, nearly as hot as in midsummer, and the grass in the meadow beyond looked more like midsummer, and ready to brown. “Greetings.”
“Greetings, Master Lerris.” The peddler looked down at the stone underfoot, then back at me. “I was a-thinking... ye being a mastercrafter... well... would ye be having small things I could peddle for ye?”
“Small things?”
“Breadboards? I seen those at the craft fairs, years back. Or napkin rings, carved ones?”
“M-m-master Lerris...” stammered Wegel. “You have some things like that, Wegel?”
“A f-few.”
I pursed my lips. “Jahunt. Most of what we craft here is furniture. I don't do many things that small. Wegel does a few...”
“But... an apprentice, beggin' your pardon...”
“Wegel is better at carving than I am. If he's willing to let you hawk what he has, count yourself lucky.” I cleared my throat, dry from the heat and the dust. “Why are you asking us? You used to hawk scissors for Ginstal.”
“Ginstal went to Hrisbarg, ser.”
“Hrisbarg?”
“Now that the Empire has Freetown, and the regent there has reopened the old iron mines... Ginstal said they'd be needing a good ironmaster who knew the mines, and that's where he learned the trade. His brother lives there, someplace called Howlett...”
I recalled Howlett, not exactly favorably.
“... Ginstal was saying that the new steam pumps would let them dig deeper, and he was a-tired of wondering what the Empire would do... or who was going to attack Kyphros next.”
I wondered how many people in Candar felt that way. Was that what the Empire counted on?
“Begging your pardon, ser?” said Jahunt.
“Oh, nothing.”
“You had that faraway look, ser.” The peddler shivered and looked at Wegel.“He looks like that, young Master Wegel, and I'd not be in his way.”
“N-not me...”
The squawks from the henhouse told me that Rissa was feeding chickens or collecting eggs. A crow from the young cock-perched on the top rail of the fence by the henhouse- confirmed that someone had invaded his territory.
“Young cocks...” I muttered.
“Not being so old, yourself, Master Lerris,” cackled Jahunt.
Maybe not, but at times I didn't feel all that young, either.
“I'd guess I'd be pleased to have any woodwork things young Wegel might offer, leastwise till the Hamorians show up,” Jahunt offered.
“You may have a long wait,” I suggested.
“You going to take them on, then? Folks say you be a mighty mage.”
“Just mighty enough almost to get killed a few times. No... I wasn't thinking about that.”
“If'n folks like you don't stop them, who will?” asked the peddler.
Wegel looked at me, and I didn't have an answer.
“A good question, but I don't have the answer.” I turned to Wegel. “You can work out something with Jahunt, but it's on your free time, not mine.”
“T-t-thank you.”
I smiled. “I don't know thanks are necessary. Double work isn't much fun.” While Wegel stammered and Jahunt dickered, I went back to the shop, where it was already hotter than outside, despite the open door and windows that meant more dust and grit. Again, I felt as if I couldn't get ahead.
There I began on the notching and dovetailing for the traveling chests. With the way Jahunt was talking, there might be quite a market for traveling chests, though I still didn't see the Hamorian sunburst entering Kyphros anytime soon, not with Krystal holding and fortifying Ruzor.
Wegel came back before long, smiling, at least until I put him to work on a traveling chest-a simpler version.
Later, just before dinner, I had him clean the shop, and then I did the finish work on Durrik's chest so that it could set undisturbed overnight.
Dinner was some type of chilied eggs, wrapped in peppers. Even Wegel was sweating after two of them, but like all youngsters, he ate five. I stopped at three, and ate more maize chips than I should have, and drank a lot more water than was wise.
I curried Gairloch after dinner, and he was skittish, probably because of the early summerlike heat that was creating a high haze in the sky and large numbers of hungry flies that seemed to buzz everywhere.
The chickens... they just brawwked and generally made noise and messes, but we did have eggs.
The night was warm, but dry as it was, falling asleep wasn't that hard. Staying asleep turned out to be somewhat harder. Grrrurrrr... eeeeeeeEEEEEE! I sat up in bed, shaking from the mental force of the rever- berations of chaos. Without probing, not that my senses would travel that far, even underground, even if I were a reluctant earth wizard, I knew that the brimstone spring had exploded in chaos-that fire and steam cascaded down the Yellow River into Hydlen.
I huddled on the bed, suddenly cold in the warm evening, with the quilt gathered around me.
Where would chaos strike next? Would it all form around Sammel? Could he avoid it? More important, how could he refuse such power? But if he were accepting it, why was it erupting in Hydlen? And where was all that chaos coming from?
Unbidden, the words of my father's letter slipped into my thoughts: “... the Balance works both ways... it does not matter whether order or chaos comes first...”
I knew Recluce wasn't creating that much additional order, not unless things had changed more than I could believe, and I was in Candar, and neither Justen, nor Tamra, nor I were adding that much to the order forces. So who or what was?
Hamor? But didn't there have to be order to make steel or black steel? Not if my father were right. Justen, if he and Tamra weren't still traveling somewhere in Certis or wherever, could have confirmed that, but I really didn't need confirmation.
I took a deep breath, and shuddered under the quilt, while hundreds of kays away fire and steam cascaded down the Yellow River.