Recluce 07 - Chaos Balance by L.E Modesitt Page A

golds and said that you were worse than sows. Then he ran toward His Mightiness. The peasant died. After that, our Lord turned to me and made his judgment. He said that when peasants defied his presence, matters needed attending to. And he sent me, his wizard of wizards, with the injunction that I should not return until the forest was contained.” The wizard smiled coldly.
       “So you are exiled as well?”
       “In effect.” Themphi shrugged. “Unless we can vanquish the forest.”
     
     “Is that likely?”
       “I do not know. I do know that it took all the might and skill of the ancients to contain it.”
       “And you must combat it alone?” asked Jyncka.
       “With your help and that of those living nearby-that is His Mightiness's command.”
       Jyncka raised his eyebrows. “I would not term that any great reward for service.”
       “Rulers do not reward for service, Majer, nor for realistic assessments. They reward for results.”
       “Times change,” murmured Jyncka. “A great ship rises in the works at Cyad, a ship like the ancient fireships. They say. the lancers ride north to bring the Grass Hills within the Walls of Cyad. Yet we are accorded less honor than before, and those who speak what they believe to be truth are dishonored.”
       “They do change,” agreed Themphi dryly. “That is because His Mightiness works to restore what once was Cyad's, and he has little patience for those who caution against such efforts.”
       “. . . for all that . . . unraveling from the great skein . . .” murmured a voice from the lancers somewhere behind. “Fewer steamwagons, fewer wizards . . .”
       Themphi hoped the voice was not Fissar's, but he did not turn in the saddle. His eyes flicked northward toward the smudge of green on the horizon, and he shifted his weight in the hard saddle.
       “Is the world of Cyador unraveling, ser wizard?” asked Jyncka. “Would you enlighten me?”
       Themphi shrugged. “You have seen more than I, Majer. Do you think so?”
       “I have not seen everything, but what I have seen disturbs me.”
       “It disturbs me as well,” said Themphi. His eyes went back to the horizon, and he did not speak for a long time.
     
     

Chaos Balance
    XVIII
     
    Nylan studied the room again-lander couch, rocking chair, table, stool, bed-that was all. Stone walls ... he'd laid almost every stone. Window casements-his design. The entire tower had been his dream, his way of making the Roof of the World safe for the angels, for the children he had known would come, if not as he had expected.
       He glanced at the pair of blades on the couch, the single composite bow and quiver, and the two saddlebags-one filled with his few clothes and a spare pair of boots, the other with hard bread and cheese, and some dried venison.
       His jacket was rolled inside the makeshift bedroll that lay on the saddlebags. In the bags were those few items he owned-after two lives, really. Two lives, and those few items were all. And-once again-he had no idea where he was going or what he was doing-not beyond escaping.
       He took a deep breath and swallowed, hoping Ayrlyn was ready, knowing she'd been ready long before he had. Then, she'd never really been at home on the Roof of the World, and he'd been the one to build Tower Black. His eyes went to the open window, through which he could see puffy clouds marching out of the northeast across the green-blue sky.
       The smith took another deep breath, squared his shoulders, crossed the landing, and stepped into the Marshal's quarters.
       Ryba-the Marshal of Westwind-sat in the rocking chair. Dyliess in her lap. Her pale green eyes fixed on Nylan, “You've finally decided to leave, haven't you?”
       Nylan nodded. “You knew all along. Your visions told you that I'd have to leave. You knew seasons ago, but you wouldn't share them. You never have shared those visions, and you never will. You wouldn't