L. E. Modesitt - The Death of Chaos

WE HEADED SOUTHEAST from Kyphrien on a packed clay road wide enough for three horses or a wagon and one horse, riding through the hills of red clay covered with fine sand, patches of grass, and desert olive groves, meticulously tended, their leaves gray in the early winter light. Between the groves were villages, so small they had no kaystones, no squares, just white-plastered houses with red tile roofs and handfuls of children scattered in odd places-on stone walls or tending sheep or driving oxen with long wands.

By mid-morning, the high gray clouds began to break, but the wind remained light, although it had changed direction, coming from the north, and seemed more chill than in Kyphrien.

Riding past the olive trees, I wondered how many of the groves belonged to Hensil, the trader who had commissioned the chair set. Somehow, I liked Antona better than Hensil, although I couldn't say I liked her occupation better. They both catered to human appetites, but I have never liked the idea of any trade in human beings. Then again, just because he was richer, was Hensil any better than Fusion, who had wanted me to punish a starving boy? Food traders withheld food for those who had more coins, and traders in women effectively withheld sex for those who had more coins. Except-I shook my head- women could think, and olives presumably didn't.

You look worried, Order-master, commented Yelena.

Comparing olives and women, I mumbled.

Jylla and Freyda grinned at each other.

Weldein brushed back his longish blond hair and said softly, You have to think about that?

Even I had to smile.

The olive groves diminished to scattered stands, and eventually gave way to sparser hillsides covered with low and gnarled cedars. The villages grew less frequent, as did travelers. We stopped to water the horses around midday at a narrow stream running between two hills. To our right, downstream, a small flock of sheep had churned the grass around a damp area into a long streak of brown on brown.

Good thing they're downstream, offered Yelena.

About to scoop up a mouthful of water, I stopped, deciding a little orderspelling on the water wouldn't hurt. Yelena drank from her canteen. So did Weldein, but I wanted to save the redberry in mine. So I orderspelled some water. I could almost feel the grit and some chaos spill out.

How can you drink that? asked Jylla. Won't you get the flux?

Very carefully, I told her. I wouldn't drink it if you don't have to.

But you are.

I orderspelled it.

Freyda and Jylla looked at each other and shook their heads. After that, I stood beside Gab-loch and took out the cheese and hard biscuits.

Would you like some? I offered a small wedge of the white cheese to each of them. Even the Finest aren't exactly that well off.

Thank you, said Weldein and Yelena.

Freyda and Jylla nodded thanks.

How long will it take to get to Lythga? According to Krystal, the trip was four days hard riding to Jikoya, and then another two to Lythga and that part of the Lower Easthorns.

A little over six days, answered Yelena after swallowing half the wedge of cheese in a single bite. The way you're going to Hydlen is almost an eight-day longer.

I really don't want to ride up the direct route to Arastia. That's like announcing my arrival with a large trumpet and saying, 'Hello, Gerlis, here I am.' It's not that healthy.

Yelena frowned. You went up against the first chaos wizard alone.

Then I was even younger and stupider. Actually, that was my second. Antonin didn't have an army camped next to him. The first one did, and I ran like hell, and was very lucky to escape. I didn't point out that being able to shield myself from the troops' seeing me had helped a lot, and they still almost got me shooting off arrows blind. That shielding hadn't worked against the wizard, only the troops, and it wouldn't work against Gerlis himself. Also, the point is to get back to Kyphrien with enough information to let the autarch know what is happening.

That got a snort from Jylla, and I looked over at her, standing beside her mount. She turned pale.

You made your point, Lerris. Yelena's tone was dry.

What point? I really wasn't that angry, but I had been irritated.

She shook her head.

I'll still be lucky to get back in one piece.

I have great confidence in you, Order-master.

I was glad someone did.

I packed up the cheese, orderspelled more water, and used some of it to wash my face. Below us, the sheep milled around more, and then drifted farther away from the road.

I'm sorry, I said quietly to Yelena as we rode onward and away from the sheep.

There's nothing to be sorry about. She paused. You know what makes you dangerous, Lerris?

Me, dangerous?

You, she affirmed, glancing back toward the three who followed several lengths back and lowering her voice. You just do whatever needs to be done. You do it with as much force as you can.

That's practical. You do it the best way you can. If you have to do it, then do it. And if you don't, then don't. I was embarrassed and started looking at the road ahead, for sheep, for kaystones, for anything.

The hills got flatter on the road to Dasir, and the sun got hotter, and the light breeze died down.

Kaaa... cchwwww! I rubbed my nose and tried not to sneeze again.

Jylla's sneeze wasn't much more delicate than mine.

With the lower hills, the packed dark clay of the road had turned drier, redder, and dustier.

Kaaachewwww!!!

You have an impressive sneeze, offered Yelena.

Thank you. My nose was running, reddish from the dust that seemed everywhere.

It's been a dry year, this side of Kyphrien, she went on. That causes the dust. But it's better than the mud.

Between coughing and sneezing, I wasn't sure that dust was preferable to mud. Being an order-master is helpful for keeping away flies and bugs, but it doesn't do much for dust. I itched everywhere and wondered if The Basis of Order dealt with itches. That was the problem, though. When you need to learn something it's late, often too late. I sighed and resolved to read through the book that evening.

With each step, the dust rose. And the dust rose and fell, and poor Gairloch's legs looked like he wore boots made of red dust. I just wore a cloak of the stuff.

Khhaaa... cheww!

Overhead, the late fall sky had turned a cheerful blue-green, and bright, and the wind had died, making the day seem warmer, warm enough that by mid-afternoon I was sweating, and thin lines of mud ran down my cheeks.

My backside was sore by the time the sun hung on the edge of the low hills behind us. Kyphrien already seemed impossibly far behind. I was still sneezing, and my nose was running red mud. My eyes itched, and I wanted to club Gerlis to death with my staff, just to get things over with sooner.

We'll stay there. Yelena pointed to a kaystone on the left side of the road that said Matisir.

I squinted down the road toward a clump of buildings that seemed slumped between two low hills.

The barracks is right off the square, if you can call it a square.

Jylla sighed. Weldein flicked his reins.