The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [138]
“Yes. We’ve already started the brinn and the winterspice. The pepper takes longer . . .”
Creslin listens as Lydya explains the spice values, the time necessary for growth, and the likely trade patterns.
“Smugglers,” Hyel adds when Lydya halts.
“Or Suthyans under Sarronnese trade flags,” Megaera says.
Creslin reflects on Derrild, the trader, and the question of timing. Recluce is far closer than the great eastern and southern continents, therefore able to allow for smaller shipments of shorter duration, and from less affluent traders. “What grows in Candar that the eastern powers would prefer to have?”
No one answers.
“What about black wool?”
“You can’t manage that as quickly,” Lydya observes.
“No,” he agrees. “But how long can we use spices? How many people use them? Everyone needs cloth.”
Megaera smiles. “You want to use order to develop products no one else can sell?”
“Why not?”
“Can we do it?”
Creslin turns to Lydya. “Some of the mountain sheep have black patches.”
“It will take several years,” she points out.
“Start when you can, then. Does anyone disagree?”
Megaera frowns. Hyel shrugs, and Shierra nods slowly.
“Is there anything else we need to talk about?” Creslin asks.
Silence settles around the table.
“Then until we have something new to discuss, let’s get back to the things we’re working on.” The silver-haired man stands up, and the others follow his example.
Creslin eases around the table to Lydya. “I didn’t mean to push you on the wool.”
The healer’s eyes settle on him. “You didn’t mean harm, but you did mean to push a little, I think.”
Creslin flushes and finds himself feeling sheepish. “You’re right. I worry about how much time we have.”
“So does Klerris.” She smiles for an instant. “While most people are not that eager to leave Candar, there are some who can help a great deal.”
The Blacks?” asks Megaera, who has joined them.
“The council is forcing us from Candar. We’re too cautious, too concerned about the misuse of chaos, and too worried about the order-chaos balance.”
“Balance?” Megaera’s question is tentative.
“Klerris thinks that Creslin is a creation of the balance, that too much chaos necessitates a greater focus on order. Theoretically, the opposite would be possible, of course. If, for example, Recluce became a home to order, too much emphasis on order could create an imbalance and empower a few great Chaos Wizards.” She shakes her head. “That’s just speculation. We really don’t know.”
Megaera wears a faraway expression, her eyes unfocused as if she looks into a distant future. She shivers minutely; then her eyes focus on Creslin.
Creslin wants to avoid the chill in those green eyes, and he looks instead at Lydya. “I guess I do push too much.”
Megaera nods.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” Lydya says, “but there comes a time to let events take their own pace. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go make sure that Klerris isn’t getting too impatient.” She grins, turns, and moves down the sun-splashed steps.
Looking back into the dimness of the main floor of the keep, Creslin sees that Shierra and Hyel remain in conversation. He steps into the sunlight, then wishes he had not as the heat strikes him almost like a hammer.
“Sometimes . . .” Megaera’s voice is low.
“Sometimes what?” His eyes sweep the harbor and the pier, empty except for the half-sunken fishing boat that has not budged since they arrived.
“You are so perceptive and so dense.”
“I admit it. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”
“There you go again! Poor little Creslin! ’I don’t understand anything. Just help me out.’ But a little while ago you manipulated an entire meeting. You’re determined to turn this . . . desert into a place more powerful than Fairhaven in the years to come.” Her words bite like a blizzard, despite the glare and heat that surround them.
“You want Recluce to remain a desert? I thought—”
“That’s not it at all. I agree with your goals. There has to be someplace for people like us, for people like Lydya and Klerris. But you never ask anyone about anything.