The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [192]
“You did not mean to stop chaos?” demanded the priest in a high voice.
I sighed. Explaining the intricacies was getting more and more dangerous, and I knew none of the people except Krystal. While not a one manifested chaos or disorder, they could easily order my death for less fantastic reasons.
“You sound almost exasperated, young order-master,” observed the autarch. “Perhaps you could explain your feelings first.”
Shrugging, I turned to her. She was the judge, anyway. “You have to understand that I am not from Kyphros, nor from Gallos. A crafter in Gallos took me in, and enabled me to learn more of both order and woodworking. The disorder threatened his family. I employed order to strengthen honestly his business and his health. I also, being what I am, could not but help embody some order in the chairs and cabinets and tables I produced.” I turned to Krystal. “Would you recall what occurs when a black staff strikes chaos?”
She did not quite frown, but paused. “Doesn’t the staff burn someone possessed of disorder?”
I nodded, then I grinned, looking around the table. “My first mistake was to craft some black-oak chairs for the sub-prefect. My second error was to make them as perfect as I could and to infuse them with order to strengthen them.”
They all looked puzzled.
“What do you think happened when the chaos-tainted advisors of the prefect sat in those chairs?”
“Ha!”
“Ohhhhh…”
I nodded. “That meant I had to leave Gallos, but I could not leave the crafter unprotected. After all, the chairs would be traced in time to his shop. So I entered the palace in an attempt to do something—what, I was not sure. That didn’t work out because I found that attempting to force order on anyone unwilling to receive it is difficult at best. I did neutralize the chaos-fountain and turned it back into mere decoration. Then I left Fenard and came to Kyphros.”
“Did you have anything to do with the death of the white wizard?” That question came from Ferrel. She sounded vaguely amused. Why, I couldn’t imagine.
“That was a lucky accident.” I tried to stuff another lamb cube into my mouth before answering another question.
“Accident?”
“Well…” I mumbled, before gulping the piece of lamb. The meat burned and scraped all the way down my throat. “All I wanted to do was to let the two Kyphran captives free. But the wizard kept throwing white fire at me…and his fire and my staff collided too close to him.”
“How did that happen?” Ferrel was almost smiling, I could have sworn.
“I charged him…”
“Do you have a warhorse, order-master? A charger?”
“No. Just a pony.”
Someone sniggered.
Ferrel glared at Liessa, who paled. That surprised me. Then she turned to the autarch, who looked amused, rather than surprised, and added, “It sounds fantastic, but it happened that way. Except for one detail. No one saw our friend here. Is this yours?” She held up my belt knife.
I nodded.
“The unseen wizard who defeated the white wizard cut the bonds of my lieutenant, left the knife in her hands, and told her to cut the other captive free. She did not see the charge, but she did hear the white wizard screaming about an unseen armed man. She also saw the fire bolts striking against something until one exploded right in front of the wizard. Our friend here—or someone dressed exactly like him and riding a pony exactly like his—appeared for just an instant.”
She handed me the knife, which I quickly replaced in the empty sheath.
“You didn’t tell me all of that,” Krystal added dryly.
I think I flushed. “It seemed pretty dumb. I never meant to take on a full white wizard. It just happened.”
“What are you intending to do next?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Except I did. So, of course, I had to tell them, or suffer indigestion. “I don’t have much choice. I have to go find Antonin.”
“The Great White Wizard?”
“Yes.”
Ferrel looked at the autarch, and the autarch looked at Krystal. After that, they let me finish my dinner. I mean, what else was there to say? They did talk, finally, among themselves.
“Has he always