Wellspring of Chaos

LXI

The voyage from Biehl to Hamor was long-two and a half eightdays. Kharl kept busy at whatever tasks were set before him. Some of that was internal work on bulkheads and decks, anywhere that water had managed to damage wood. He even repaired one of the cover panels on the port paddle wheel. When he was not working, sleeping, or eating, he was reading or-far less often-trying to exercise his still-limited order-skills. By the time the western coast of Hamor was in sight as a low dark line off the starboard bow, Kharl had read through every page of The Basis of Order. He could not say that he understood everything he had read.

He hadn’t attempted to turn any more cold iron into black iron. He had tried using the ideas in the book to speed the healing of several minor cuts and scrapes he had received, and they did seem to heal more quickly, but whether that was because of his efforts, he still wasn’t certain. The only thing that had been certain is that the healing had not been instantaneous-and the book had said that it wasn’t supposed to be.

Within the last few days of the voyage, the air had grown warmer, and damper, and the heavy long-sleeved gray carpenter’s shirt had gotten uncomfortably warm. That had forced Kharl to purchase a short-sleeved gray shirt from the ship’s slop chest at more than he’d wished to spend, but the shirt was well-made and far more comfortable than the heavier winter shirt.

As the Seastag continued southeast, the coastline of Hamor resolved itself into a line of whitish cliffs that rose to the south over calm and light blue waters. A good three kays seaward from those waters was a line of foaming water where waves broke over a reef.

Kharl stood at the bow on the starboard side. East of the Seastag but farther out to sea, a dark-hulled vessel without rigging steamed westward. As it drew nearer, Kharl could see the white metallic finish of gun turrets, two long guns to a turret, two turrets forward, and one aft.

“That’s a Hamorian light cruiser,” offered Hagen from behind Kharl. “Newer class. Three turrets. Older ones just have two, one fore and one aft.”

Kharl could sense worry behind the captain’s words. “Do they attack merchanters?”

“Not that I know of. But the emperor’s been building up his fleet-all with bigger guns.”

“Never saw a ship like that. Lord West has two ships with single turrets fore and aft.” Lord West might have had more, for all Kharl knew, but he’d seen two.

“No one else has ships with that kind of power, except Recluce, and no one knows exactly what the black mages have.” Hagen snorted. “No one else has the ability to mine and forge that much metal. They say the ironworks at Luba produce half the world’s iron. The whole city is a forge, and you can walk anywhere, anytime, in the light of the furnaces. I don’t know as I believe all that-but that’s where all the engines and plates for the Hamorian fleet come from.” He glanced to the south, nodding. “They do everything big in Hamor.”

Kharl followed the captain’s gaze. At the point of a peninsula abeam of the ship was a tall stone tower with a shimmering dome. Kharl studied the tower.

“That’s the northwest light tower,” offered Hagen. “At night, there’s a beam of light that sweeps across the waters. More wrecks than you can count on the Heartbreak Reef there.”

“Even with the light?”

“There’s fog and storms…and sometimes at night brigands will light fires farther west and use canvas to mimic the light. Hamorian fleet patrols the waters, but they can’t get inshore, not with the reefs. Sometimes they turn their guns on the ship-breakers. They’ve been known to kill a few. Turned a lot of rock into gravel in the process.”

Kharl pondered that. Guns that could fire four kays over the reefs and hit the shore?

Hagen cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t be taking that staff ashore, not in Swartheld. Folk here don’t take kindly to Recluce. Never have. One place that doesn’t fear the blacks. Don’t think Recluce even sends blackstaffers here any longer.”

“Do you know why?” asked Kharl.

“Something way back…the mage who founded Recluce…they say he destroyed a Hamorian war fleet with weather magery, except for a few ships that he refitted into his own fleet…and that he refused to pay the emperor a single copper…”

“A single mage went out and attacked the Hamorian fleet?”

“Doubtful mind you’ve got, cooper.” Hagen laughed. “Wasn’t like that. They and the white mages of Fairven were trying to squash Recluce before it got started. This mage-Creslin, that was his name-destroyed the invasion fleet. Emperors don’t like that.”

“That must have happened a long time ago, and they’re still upset?”

“No one in Hamor ever forgets anything,” the captain replied dryly. “They don’t learn much new, but they don’t forget. That’s why some captains aren’t welcome here. Tread lightly onshore.” Hagen laughed again and turned back toward the poop deck.

Kharl looked back toward the stone tower and the white cliffs. Were most people like that, never forgetting, and holding hard to hatred for generations, so long that most of the rest of the world had long since forgotten the cause?