Cyador’s Heirs

LX

The rain keeps falling sixday evening. It is still coming down on sevenday morning, and from what Lerial can sense in the clouds and in the flow of order and chaos, it will continue for at least several glasses, because he can find no change in the clouds to the northwest, which is from where the light winds are blowing. He still wonders just how the elders had managed to increase the rain.

After dealing with muster and making sure his men are as dry as possible, and having to admit to Alaynara that he does not know whether more arrows will be forthcoming or when, Lerial spends the morning experimenting with various order-patterns, using the lodestone at times, and not at others. He is discovering that, for whatever reason, most likely practice, he is more able to summon free order … but he has difficulty in doing much with it. To him, order is more like a flow of liquid, like water, except, unlike water, he has no container with which to hold it, so that he can direct it to some extent, but unless he concentrates-hard-on containing it, it flows from his patterns like water running through his fingers, or oozing from cupped hands.

The other matter that concerns him is the feeling of ugliness or uncleanness that he felt when he had redirected the chaos-bolt. He has always been slightly uncomfortable with chaos, a feeling he had almost not recognized, but the ugliness … even sitting on his blanket in the tent, he shivers slightly to think about it. Was that because you were dealing with more chaos … or more closely? That brings to mind his aunt’s caution about always making sure order lies between him and any use of chaos. But you were using order and not trying to influence the chaos directly.

Still … he has only been using one coil of order, unlike the earlier patterns where he has employed several lines of order. What if you use just two thinner order lines in the coil shape?

He sets to work trying to duplicate that. After a half glass he is sweating slightly, despite the slight chill, but he has finally managed to create the small pattern the way he wants it.

He nods happily. Then another thought crosses his mind. What would happen if you wrapped that order pattern around the lodestone?

Lerial smiles as he does so-but his mouth drops open as the lodestone, pouch and all, rips itself from his hands and slams into the scabbard of his sabre, lying on the blanket beside him. The lodestone holds to the iron of the blade even through the hardened leather, and it takes a great effort by Lerial to pry it loose. Holding the lodestone tightly and well away from the sheathed sabre, he studies the dark oblong with his order-senses. Somehow, the pattern he has created has become part of the lodestone itself, amplifying the natural order-lines of the stone.

If you did that to any piece of iron … would it do that? Lerial shakes his head. To make iron act like a lodestone … at the moment, he can think of no reason to do so, but he will keep that in mind.

“If I might ask, Lerial … what are you doing?” Altyrn stands just inside the tent, shaking rain from his oilskin jacket.

“Working on trying to get better control of firebolts. Why?”

“Because you were surrounded by something like a silver-black haze.” The majer smiles almost slyly. “I recall something you said about not being an ordermage…”

“I’m not. I’ve had a little instruction, and can do some healing. Other than that, I’ve figured out a few things, but I can’t predict the weather, or change it. I can’t erect shields against either order or chaos; I can only sometimes shift where chaos goes … and that’s dangerous. You’ve seen that.”

“I have.” Altyrn nods. “I’ve also seen you destroy two chaos wizards, and you can conceal your entire company from sight.”

“Only for a short time.”

“Many would consider all of those enough to name you an ordermage, Lerial. Your rankers already do.”

Lerial winces. “I’m not that good.”

“You may not yet be what you would consider a good ordermage, but you are an ordermage of sorts, and it’s foolish on your part to deny it. Denying what you are only weakens you … just as exaggerating what you are does. Strength lies in knowing who and what you are-your capabilities and your weaknesses.”

Lerial cannot dispute that, and he nods.

After a silence that seems long to Lerial, but probably lasts but a few moments, Altyrn says, “The rain is a mixed blessing. Their chaos mages can’t do that much, and that will allow the crafters here to make more arrows.”

“That would be good. My head archer was asking about that.”

“I will let you know as soon as I do.”

“Yes, ser.” Lerial pauses, then goes on. “I know that the rain will keep the fires from spreading, but you said they can’t do much.”

“It’s been forgotten, I think, but handling chaos in the rain can be very painful for those who do. At least, that was something I was told a long ways from here when I was a very junior officer.”

Lerial frowns for a moment. That’s something he has not heard. “Is there anything else that makes it hard for them?”

Altyrn laughs softly but harshly. “An even stronger ordermage. Or having to use chaos in the middle of the ocean or a large lake.” After another pause, he says, “I came to see if you had any sense of how long this rain will last.”

Lerial is about to protest, then reluctantly smiles. “Wait a moment … if you would.” He concentrates once more, letting his senses probe the clouds. As before, he can sense no immediate change … yet … the order flows seem slightly lighter and not quite so strong. He looks at the majer. “The rain might start to weaken in a few glasses, but I can’t tell if it will strengthen after that … or get stronger again.”

“I’ll see you in a few glasses then…” Altyrn gives Lerial a surprisingly boyish grin, “Captain and ordermage.” With that he turns and leaves the tent, walking through the rain toward the tent that holds Donnael, who has remained with the six companies for the last three days.

Lerial looks down at the lodestone he is still holding. What else can you try?