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“If you can.”

“Things are slow today. With that wizard at the palace, people aren’t working. They’re all afraid to do anything.” He trundled a work cart to the log pile, then unstrapped the log clamps.

“They were talking about some coach in the market…”

“Antonin’s, I’d bet. He’s often here to meet with Gollard.”

“Gollard?”

“The prefect.”

“Does that have to do with Kyphros?” I wondered how I could help Brettel with the heavy log.

“Gollard…wanted…the sulfur springs back…in the Little Easthorns.” In between words, with the aid of a steel bar and the clamps, singlehandedly the mill-master had levered the first log onto the cart.

“Can I help?”

“Just…get…in the way.”

“Sounds like he wanted to make more gunpowder.” Why, I couldn’t see, since anyone with the slightest hint of chaos-ability could set the devil’s brew off from a distance.

“Who…knows…” Brettel was working on the third log. “The autarch’s cavalry…carved up…Gollard’s…elite troop. With raw recruits. Some wench…killed…his son-in-law.” Brettel stopped and grinned. “Not a few people cheered that.”

I shook my head. After all my time in Fenard, I still didn’t know why the prefect and the autarch were at each other’s throats. “Why?” I asked.

“Why what?” Brettel handled the last small log as if it were a toothpick. I doubted that I could have even moved it.

“Why are they fighting? The autarch and the prefect, I mean?”

Brettel strapped the logs onto the cart before answering. “Rumor has it that her mother was a wizard’s daughter—”

My mouth nearly dropped. I had assumed the autarch was a man.

“—And that the mother used her wiles to split off what used to be Gallos south of the Little Easthorns. Then the mother conquered old Analeria after the prince died. The daughter took over a few years ago and added parts of the Westhorns that Hydlen claimed, but never really ruled. Gollard figured, in his best guess, that the daughter wasn’t a wizard. So he tried to retake Kyphros.

“He almost made it. Broke her army and the cavalry, but the peasants rose and burned their fields and opened the dikes. The cavalry couldn’t maneuver in the mud, and some mistakes were made. No one was clear how, but instead of a victory, Gollard lost half his army and most of his officers.

“The autarch started recruiting women, the best she could find.” Brettel shrugged. “Now Gollard’s troops usually lose, but the autarch never enters his territory.”

By now, we were approaching the saw; the belts leading from the waterwheel were motionless.

“What cuts?”

Taking the grease pencil, I outlined what I had in mind with each of the logs.

“Should have thought of that myself.” Brettel pursed his lips. “Need to set this up. I can make these and deliver the planks and those square sections late this afternoon.”

“That would be fine.” I took the hint, and walked back to where I had tied Gairloch while Brettel began to set up the saw.

Wheee…eeee…

“All right.” I patted him on the shoulder and pushed his nose away from my pockets, which were empty.

Kyphros versus Gallos—order versus chaos? Or was it that simple? Woman versus man? The more I found out, the less I knew, and I suspected I was far from the first man to realize that.

“Come on.” I mounted my shaggy beast and flicked the reins. “Come on.”

Whheee…eeeee…

“All right,” I said again.

So we halted by the bottom of the millrace for him to get a drink of the cold water, and I even stopped by the granary and bought a small sack of feed for Gairloch.

LII

AFTER GETTING THE bid for the sub-prefect’s chairs, and after getting exactly the lumber I wanted from Brettel with a bit extra thrown in for no extra cost, we still had to actually craft the chairs.

Besides worrying about the actual work, I worried about a lot of other things. I worried that Destrin would get sicker and die. I worried that Bostric would slip with the plane, or that I would get careless.

I worried that Jirrle would somehow find a way to attack me. I worried that Antonin would find out exactly who