Wellspring of Chaos

XLIV

After breakfast, before he headed down to the carpenter shop once more, Kharl glanced forward as he stood on the main deck, pitching but slightly. In all directions, he could only see the gray-blue waters of the Northern Ocean. Or they might be sailing the Gulf of Candar by now. He’d asked Furwyl, but the first said he wouldn’t know if they were actually in the Gulf until he took his noon sightings. The unseen border between the two varied with every map, in any case, Furwyl had pointed out.

Just another thing that he’d thought was more certain than it was, Kharl reflected as he headed down to the carpenter shop. He stepped inside to find Tarkyn working on his scrimshaw.

“I see that staff is still in the bin,” offered the older man.

“I tried to give it back.” Kharl shrugged. “The magister wouldn’t take it.”

“He say why?”

“He said it was mine now, and that I should take care of it.”

“Might see a little use, if we’re unlucky. Not like it once was. Not like twenty years ago, when there were pirates everywhere,” mused Tarkyn. “Nowdays, only have to worry when you’re close to shore near Renklaar or Jera…maybe Biehl and Quend.”

“There were that many pirates? I thought Recluce had always taken care of them.”

“Not just Recluce. The white wizards of Fairven hated pirates as well. That one thing they agreed upon, and before the cataclysm, there were few pirates indeed, and most of them did not last long. After the cataclysm…then there were many.”

“After the fall of Fairven?” asked Kharl. “I didn’t realize that was a cataclysm.”

“Aye, that it was.” Tarkyn set down the scrimshaw on the narrow bench built into the bulkhead. “Great waves swept out of the ocean and smashed into the harbors. Wasn’t a war fleet anywhere that survived, not even the ships of Recluce. I heard tell that even the black iron of their mages is not so strong now as then. Many of the steam engines that once worked did no longer, and those that did had not the power they once had…” The carpenter coughed and cleared his throat. “My grandsire once said that the ships of Recluce were of black iron and more than two hundred cubits in length, and moved twice as fast as a horse at full gallop. Now…they are swift, but not that swift, and little more than half that in length.”

“They don’t let people see them in Nylan.”

“Don’t let folk close anywhere. Still mighty ships. Saw one take down a Delapran pirate once. Like a shark half out of water she moved. Shells, something that looked like a cannon but wasn’t. Couldn’t have been half a glass before the pirate was sinking in flames from stem to stern. No…one thing a skipper doesn’t want to do is offend Recluce. Even worse than offending the Hamorians, for all their ships and guns. Upset the blacks, and you won’t have a ship for long, that’s certain. That’s why the pirates are few, and why they stay close to shore. At times, makes you wish for the old times, when there were almost none.”

“Does anyone know what caused the cataclysm? Fairven is…it was…somewhere in the middle of Candar. How could its fall cause great waves?”

Tarkyn laughed. “Folks have wondered that for years. Pride…that’s what it was. Ever since Cerryl the Great, the white mages got more and more sure of themselves. Cocky. First, they took over Certis, and Hydlen, and then Gallos. Before anyone knew it, they held all of Candar east of the Westhorns.” He snorted. “Was that enough? No…they started building a great road through the Westhorns, so as they could march their white lancers right into Sarronnyn.”

Kharl hadn’t heard that part of the story. “What happened?”

“Recluce sent some black mages. They were proud, too. Thought a few troopers and mages ’d be more than enough to stop Fairven. They weren’t. The whites smashed ’em and the Tyrant of Sarronnyn. Whites had all of Candar under their thumbs, except the Great Forest, Delapra, and Southwind. Might have gotten them, too, except that something happened.” Tarkyn smiled, as if inviting Kharl to ask.

“What?”

“Fairven fell in a single afternoon. No one knows how. Some say mages from Recluce. The one-god believers claim their god leveled it with thunderbolts. Others say the very earth revolted. One thing’s sure. Something melted most of the buildings-and they were stone-like they were wax in a furnace. Nothing grows there, and anyone who goes there these days doesn’t come back. Some of the hilltops are like black glass. Heard of a fellow who climbed one. Days later, his hair fell out, got sores all over. Two eightdays later he was dead.”

“I still don’t see how that caused great waves in the oceans.”

“Who knows? One thing certain though. The land moved. Some of the roads-the old stone roads…in places, they’re just split. Other places, the mountains fell on them, buried ’em and anyone who was traveling ’em them.”

Kharl shook his head. “It’s still hard to believe. They ruled forever, and then, in one day, they were gone.”

“Like a mighty ship on the ocean,” said Tarkyn. “Proud, with sails billowing, engine pourin’ out smoke. No one checks the hull. Shipworms…can’t see ’em until it’s too late. A storm, and the hull gives in, and the ship sinks, just like that. Lands are like ships. Don’t see the worms till it’s too late.” The carpenter glanced at the lathe. “We could use another top gaff.”

Kharl nodded. “Spruce?”

“You don’t want oak that high…”

Kharl stepped toward the overhead wood bin, but he was still thinking about lands being like ships with shipworms. Was Nordla like that? Or Recluce? How would you ever know…until it was too late?