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Alone in the anteroom, I finally sat down under the picture of the woman master. Why did I even care about Tamra? Krystal needed me more than Tamra, didn’t she? Tamra didn’t need anyone, except to insult them in order to feel superior. She was good at that, because she was better than anyone else, both in brains and physical skills. So why did she have to keep proving it?

“Lerris.” Talryn’s voice was calm, and this time he wasn’t smiling.

I took a deep breath and rose, wishing I had my staff with me. Everything was packed, but waiting, in the room that had been home for the late spring and long summer.

He held the door open for me, then closed it. I stood by the table where we had eaten so many eight-days earlier.

“Sit down, Lerris.” Talryn took the same chair, the one at the head of the long table.

I pulled out the heavy black-oak chair. This time it moved easily. I said nothing, waiting for Talryn to say whatever he had to say, since whatever I thought clearly didn’t matter.

“You could be a problem, Lerris. You keep expecting someone to hand you the answers. Life isn’t like that. Neither is the dangergeld. Because you demand answers and reasons, no one wants to give them to you.”

I tried not to sigh. Another lecture I didn’t need.

“So I will. We’ve discussed it. You may not believe me now, but try at least to remember what I’m about to say. It might save your life.”

I almost smiled at the melodramatic touch, but decided to listen. It couldn’t hurt.

Talryn waited.

Finally, I nodded.

“First, you are a potential order-master. You have the talents to be a chaos-master, but not the disposition. You aren’t contemptuous enough, and you never will be. Trying the chaos path will leave you dying young in Candar, if it doesn’t kill you outright.

“Second, you’re strong enough to tempt most chaos-masters into trying to corrupt you. Third, you refuse to understand that each master must find his or her own meaning in life.” Talryn sighed. The master in silver actually sighed. “Finally, what we’re doing is unfair to you.”

“You admit that?” I couldn’t help asking.

“We admit it.”

“Then why are you doing it? I don’t understand.”

“Because your doubts and your open skepticism are enough to disrupt anyone who spends much time with you. Normally, two masters work with each dangergeld group. Sometimes only one.”

Talryn, Trehonna, Gilberto, Cassius, and Lennett—not to mention the occasional appearances by others—that totaled five, plus apprentices like Demorsal.

“Four…five perhaps. It took that many to keep your efforts damped, and we’ll all have to work that much harder for another year to catch up.”

“Why?”

Talryn sighed again. “You have great potential, Lerris—for order or chaos. How you use it is your choice. That choice is not simple. Not at all.”

I opened my mouth.

Talryn raised his hand. “Let me explain. The reason why you call upon order or chaos is meaningless. If you destroy a tree for firewood to warm a freezing child, you have still given yourself to chaos. Likewise, if you heal a murderer, you give yourself to order.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what Talryn was saying.

“That’s why handling order is so difficult. You have to have good intent, and using chaos for a good purpose leads to greater disorder.”

I still couldn’t believe him. “I couldn’t even fell a tree to save a child?”

Talryn smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that. I said you could not use chaos forces. You could use an ax or a sword to cut branches. Where physical force doesn’t affect human life, it doesn’t affect order or chaos either.”

I shook my head.

“Oh…it’s worse than that, Lerris. Far worse.” His tone was almost mocking. “What I said is not quite true. You can occasionally use chaos in service of order—but only when balanced by higher-order considerations. Indeed…if you choose to serve order, you may have to. If you wish to be an order-master, every use of order must be calculated. You may be lucky. You may intuitively understand those balances, but without