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“Chaos?” asked the Countess. I had forgotten she still remained, watching the procedure.

Justen nodded as another herder guided the diseased, chaotic animal toward a smaller fenced area.

By then the flow of animals had increased, and I was breathing sheep, tasting wool, and feeling ready to baaaa myself.

In some of the ewes, the underlying order-flow was barely there, and those I strengthened as I could.

Black-face…baaaaa…oily wool-taste coating my tongue…baaaa…splaaattt…“Fine…” Black-face…“Pull this one…” Sheep gas…dung…oily wool-smells…baaaa…

The parade of animals seemed endless—until the corral was empty.

I looked up, somewhat dazed. The countess had left somewhere in the middle of processing the first corral—when, I could not have said.

“Over here,” Justen said.

I thought I saw a few more silver hairs in his head, but that could have been my imagination. I trudged in the direction he pointed, my eyes burning, my stomach turning, growling and empty.

Across the field waited another large corral of sheep.

I glanced upward. The sun had not even reached mid-morning. “Oh…”

That was the way the morning went…ewe after ewe, with Justen looking grimmer and grimmer with each chaos-disordered ewe set aside.

By noon my eyes were blurring, and there must have been close to a hundred of the chaos-tinged ewes crowded into the white corral.

“Take a rest, Lerris.” Justen’s voice was firm. “We’ll get something to eat before we finish up here, and then ride over to the southern gathering.”

“There’s more?”

Justen’s smile was half-amused, half-grim. “You’ve just begun. Two days here, and another two days at the gatherings outside Vergren. There you don’t get an inn the first night, just a pallet and a tent.”

I sagged against the split rails of the corral while Justen approached the white corral, remaining propped there while two herders funneled the ewes to him one by one. This time, he actually touched each one.

When he was finished, about two-thirds had been returned to the herd. The remaining animals milled around the corral.

With slow, measured steps, the gray wizard moved back toward me. The sun glinted on hair at least half silver, though his face seemed no more wrinkled, unlike the times after Frven.

“Why so much chaos?” I asked.

“How can you tell?” he responded, steadying himself on one of the low chute-rails.

“You’ve been withdrawn for the last two days, looking where only wizards look, and paying little or no attention to anyone. I don’t know you, but it seems more than work.”

“You’re right.” He shook his head. “Nature seeks balance, and Recluce went too far this time.” He frowned. “I hope,” he added under his breath.

At the last words, I frowned. “You hope Recluce went too far?”

“Not what I meant. I hope it is a question of natural balance.” He pushed himself away from the chute-rail and began to walk toward the middle shed. “Let’s eat. They’re setting up a table in one of the sheds.”

Dinner was a hot soup, cold sliced mutton and cheese, black bread and redberry preserves, and as much hot cider as I wanted. Unfortunately, to me it all tasted like oily wool. The food steadied me and stopped the protests from my guts. About the time I started to feel human again, we trooped out to start all over with another bunch of ewes.

Then I climbed on Gairloch and rode to the southern gathering grounds, where we worked until we could not see. I could barely finish supper before collapsing.

The next day was the same, and so was the day after, except that first we rode until nearly noon. On each day, the countess appeared for a time, looking nearly as grim as Justen.

The fourth day wasn’t quite as bad, although it was after dark when we returned to the Weavers’ Inn.

“Just take the robe in your room and follow me.”

“What…”

“We’re taking a bath.”

And we did, in a small room off the kitchen, with hot water and soap, and for the first time since leaving Recluce I felt clean. We left the borrowed clothes there and wore the robes back to our rooms, where