Wellspring of Chaos

XLVII

The next day Kharl was hard at work on deck duties, replacing weakened posts in the starboard quarter railing of the Seastag, before smoothing, then varnishing it. He had finished the job and been released for the day a glass before supper.

He’d thought about the ruins he’d seen the day before, with the massive stone blocks clearly split in two and left to weather for ages. It did not appear the site had ever been quarried for stones, but perhaps the abundance of timber to the north along the low hills lining the Great North Bay had made using wood more attractive. Certainly, except for the larger dwellings at the top of the bluff, almost all the dwellings and buildings in Lydiar were of wood, and most looked to be decades old, if not older. While he had not felt any of the whiteness he had with the wizard in Brysta, the dead feeling of the soil told him that some great wizardry had to have been involved. Nothing grew around the ruins still. That might have been the reason why no one had tried to quarry them. Perhaps in ages past people had tried and suffered, even died, but that was something about which Kharl could only guess.

Since he still had close to a glass before supper, he slipped The Basis of Order from his pack in his bin and carried it with him up onto the deck. He found a space beside the railing where the late and fading light from the setting sun illuminated the pages and began to read, not really trying to puzzle out each phrase, but just letting the words flow over and through him.

“What are you reading?”

Kharl glanced up to find the third mate-Rhylla-looking down at him. “It’s a book on order and chaos, ser. Someone left it to me, back in Brysta.”

“Not many sailors-or coopers-read,” observed Rhylla.

“I suppose not.”

“Furwyl said you lost everything to the tariff farmer. Why did he do that?” Rhylla’s voice expressed mild concern.

“Because I stopped Lord West’s son from having his way with a neighbor girl.”

“Aye. That would do it.” Rhylla snorted. “What happened to the girl?”

“He had her father murdered. Her mother died years ago.”

“So they killed the father and ran you off?”

Kharl nodded.

“You look like it wasn’t that simple.”

Kharl laughed, half-bitterly. “They hung my consort because she couldn’t prove she didn’t do something. My eldest son left Brysta as a carpenter’s assistant on a ship; my youngest left to live with my consort’s sister. The tax farmer demanded twelve golds…”

“Twelve…golds?”

“Twelve. I got off with a mere thirty lashes, and the deaths of my consort and neighbor.”

“Thirty-and you still can walk?”

“I didn’t for a while.”

“I can see why you wanted to leave Brysta. You think things’ll be better elsewhere?”

“Things? No. I figure that people are the same everywhere. But I won’t have a lord’s son looking to do me in elsewhere.”

Rhylla nodded. “Good folk and bastards everywhere. Trick is to keep to the good ones and avoid the others.”

“Sometimes that’s hard,” Kharl pointed out.

“These days…harder. One reason why I’m staying here as a third.”

“You could be a second on another ship?”

“Been offered twice. Pay’d be better, but the crew share’d be smaller, and I’d end up drinking all the extra coins to forget. Hagen’s a good captain. Too few like him. You know that he owns other ships, but still sails as captain?”

“No.” It didn’t surprise Kharl. Hagen was good, and he couldn’t imagine the captain sitting in a countinghouse or a mansion and being happy. He didn’t know why he thought that, but he did.

“You hid out waitin’ for him, didn’t you?”

Kharl smiled ruefully.

“Smartest thing you coulda done.” Rhylla nodded. “Need to check on the duty sentries.” She stepped away.

Kharl looked down at the page open before him.

…each thing under the sun, be it a man or a machine, a creature or an object created, is unique, no matter how closely it resembles another, and yet all these unique things are created from the sameness of order and chaos, and all that is unique is the manner in which order and chaos are twisted into the unique forms that we are and that surround us…

He thought about the words for a time…for a long time…until the bell rang for supper, and he slipped the book inside his tunic and went below to the long narrow mess.

After eating, he went back on deck to think, and to watch the stars appear in the night sky, brightening as the sky darkened. In time, he returned to the crew quarters.

As he undressed and slipped into his bunk, he hoped he could sleep soundly. He did-except for the time when Reisl staggered back into the forecastle, clearly drunk, and mumbled incoherently before collapsing into his own bunk.

Kharl sighed and went back to sleep.