Wellspring of Chaos

LVIII

Three days later, the Seastag steamed out of Southport and headed westward. Kharl found himself glad to be at sea, because he’d spent much of the in-port time working with a shipwright to replace the metal rigging fittings that the Gallosian cannon had damaged or blown away. He’d decided against any more expensive meals, and read several more chapters of The Basis of Order. After three and a half days at sea, when Seastag tied up at a rickety wooden pier in Dellash, Kharl was still trying to figure out how he could put some of what he read into actual practice.

No one had told Kharl much about Dellash, so that he’d finally had to ask Ghart, who had told him that Dellash was the port on the isle of Esalian. That Kharl had known, but not that it had been held by Lord Fentrel until, less than ten years before, the Duke of Delapra had enlisted a renegade wizard to bring down the hold around Fentrel, then taken the isle.

The Seastag was the only ocean trader in the port that afternoon, and Kharl had taken The Basis of Order up on deck to read, since he would be taking the evening in-port deck watch once more. He had settled himself on the foredeck, with his back against the railing, out of the brisk northerly wind, and was debating where to begin, when he heard voices.

“…run a tight ship, Hagen…”

“…don’t keep a ship unless you do, honored Synadar. Would you like to go below to discuss matters?”

“…nothing to discuss we can’t say out here. You have the brimstone?”

“That we do-all hundred and fifty stone. It was a rather costly cargo.”

Kharl frowned. The customs enumerator at Ruzor had claimed the brimstone was two hundred stone. Or was the other fifty stone for another buyer? That had to be the answer, but Kharl wondered who the other buyer might be.

“How so?”

“The Prefect of Gallos wished to purchase it. We had to leave Ruzor rather quickly.”

“And you sold him none?”

“No,” replied Hagen. “I did not know for whom you acted. Were it him, I saved you coins. Were it someone at odds with him…that would have been even less wise.”

“Some captains would not have shown such…restraint…”

“Some captains might call it stupidity to overlook a quick and high profit,” replied Hagen. “Those are the ones who will die coinless or with a knife in the back.”

“Stupidity? You have such contempt for extra coins?”

“I like coin as much as the next man,” Hagen said. “But you don’t enjoy them by betraying committed buyers. Not for long.”

“Such noble words, such honesty…” Synadar’s laugh was mocking. “So ethical…”

Hagen laughed. “You have your cargo of brimstone. Would you have it were it not so?”

“No…but you would not have ported here.”

“Nor would I have ever been able to, and what would that have cost me, year after year?”

“So much for your vaunted honesty, Hagen…”

“Are you ready to have it off-loaded?”

“Such haste.”

“Haste indeed,” Hagen agreed. “Haste to obtain your coins. You surely understand that?”

“I have them in the strongbox. Come…you can inspect them and begin off-loading.”

Kharl did not budge as the two men moved away.

He had felt Hagen’s honesty, and the chaotic dishonor of the trader. Hagen had acted fairly and honorably, but under the guise of self-interest, and the trader had accepted self-interest even while he had scorned the ideas of fairness. Was that deception on Hagen’s part?

Did the book have any passages on deception and honesty? Kharl began to leaf through the pages until he found a section that looked like it might address his questions.

The greatest danger in practicing deception is not the reaction of others, whether it be anger or cupidity. A greater danger is the cultivation of contempt for that which is. Deception is a practice of contempt, contempt for those whom one would deceive, and contempt for the world as it is. Just as understanding what is must be the first step toward using order, contempt for a true vision is the first step toward being the tool of power rather than its enlightened user…

Kharl nodded. That made sense, but it didn’t offer him anything to do…

He kept reading. In time, he came to another section.

…often those inexperienced in using order will force raw order upon an object, thinking that such an effort will strengthen the object. Such an effort will indeed strengthen the object, even as it weakens the one who attempts this, but only so long as the would-be mage lavishes his strength. When his strength is spent, the object will become once more as it was. Far better is to study the object, and to learn how it is tied together with order and chaos, and to gently change those bonds in keeping with what the object is, for if weak bonds are properly replaced by strong bonds within the object itself, those bonds will remain strengthened, just as black iron remains stronger than iron forged without ordering…

Kharl sat up. He had black iron on his staff, and there were iron brackets in the carpenter shop. Could he compare the two somehow? He closed the book and stood, uncoiling in the brisk afternoon wind and stretching, before heading below.

The shop was empty, and Kharl eased his staff out of the overhead bin where he had replaced it and set it on the narrow bench against the bulkhead. Then he took out an iron bracket and set it on the bench, directly beside the banded section at one end of the staff.

He looked at the two metals. The black iron was darker, indeed blackish to the sight, while the iron of the bracket was a duller gray. He couldn’t compare their weights, and he already knew that the black iron was harder. So he closed his eyes and tried to sense the difference between the two. Almost instantly, he could feel the aura of darkness tied to the black iron.

He opened his eyes, and he still saw the difference. Was that because he was learning how to use some sort of order-sensing? He tried to sense the linkages or ordering within the black iron. At first, nothing happened. All he could feel was the order-darkness. But he knew there was more there. He tried to see if he could sense a difference in the grain of the metal. That made a difference, because the iron bracket somehow felt rough, almost jagged, in comparison to the black iron bands on the staff.

Could he make plain iron into black iron? Somehow, the bracket looked large and heavy, even though it was only slightly larger than his hand and but a fraction of a thumbspan in thickness. Kharl bent down and looked in the bins below the bench, where he found an iron nail. He straightened and set it on the bench beside the staff.

Then he concentrated on sensing just how the black iron felt, how the grain of the metal almost locked together. Could he somehow smooth the “roughness” of the nail into a pattern like that of the staff bands? He tried just imagining, visualizing that change. Nothing happened.

Could he use his order-sense more like a forge hammer, in a regular rhythm, striking, shaping?

How long he concentrated on that Kharl was not sure, except that a good quarter glass had passed, and the nail was darker-not quite with the smooth orderedness of the staff’s black iron, but far more ordered and…solid.

As he looked at the nail, he felt light-headed and had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on the bench. He looked down at the iron nail once more, which was no longer gray iron, but a form of black iron.

“I did it…” he murmured.

But he felt so weak-and all for a little nail.

He sat down on Tarkyn’s stool and took out the book. Doggedly, he began to skim through pages.

Black iron should only be created while being forged…attempting to change less-ordered cold iron into black iron is possible only with great effort, enough to exhaust even the strongest of mages…

Kharl didn’t know whether to shake his head or laugh. Once more, he had almost gotten himself into danger because he hadn’t been patient enough. He took a deep breath, then reached out and slipped the black iron nail into his wallet. Sometime, he might find a use for it, but if not, it might be a good reminder that he needed to try to learn more before he acted.

Then, that had always been his problem-except where he had not acted at all.