Wellspring of Chaos

LXIII

After returning to the Seastag just before sunset on the first day in Swartheld, Kharl thought, and read, then slept less than easily. He dreamed of white wizards in burgundy, in black and orange, and in flowing green-all speaking in languages he did not understand and doing all manner of wizardly tasks he could not have explained, let alone duplicated. He asked them, and they ignored him, as if he did not exist, and went on with their incomprehensible tasks.

He woke early the next morning, pooled in sweat, and not just from the heat and dampness of Swartheld. After deciding that he could not sleep longer, he eased out of his forecastle bunk, and slipped out with his clothes. He washed up as quietly as he could and then made his way topside.

In the gray light before dawn, Kharl stood at the railing near the bow. Even in the open air, there was not so much as a hint of a breeze. A light haze blurred the outlines of the buildings and the more distant piers and ships, giving them an air of unreality. For the moment, the pier was empty, without vendors and without teamsters and wagons, and Kharl relished the comparative silence. Even the city seemed hushed, and Kharl could hear the lapping of the harbor waters against the pier and against the hull of the Seastag.

In time, he heard footsteps, but he did not turn.

“You came back early,” Rhylla said. “With all your coins, I’d wager.”

“I didn’t take that many,” Kharl admitted. “I had an ale, and some supper. The ale was worth it.”

“They like their foods hot and spicy here. I think most folks in warm places do, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why you’d want to be hotter in a place that’s already too hot. But they do.”

“I don’t, either,” the carpenter replied, absently blotting a forehead he hadn’t realized was so damp until Rhylla had reminded him of the heat.

“Why did you come back early? If I could ask?”

“Something about the place bothered me,” Kharl paused. “And I saw a wizard, and he was wearing a uniform.”

“You didn’t know that?” Rhylla paused. “All wizards or mages have to work for the emperor. He pays well, they say. ’Course there’s no alternative.”

“I saw that, too. He destroyed a man he said was a wizard who had broken the laws of Hamor. Something about being examined.”

“Huh…didn’t know that. Just knew that all the wizards and mages worked for the emperor. Anyone who tries to get one to do something for him without the permission of the emperor-that’s a death sentence.”

“A death sentence?” Then Kharl nodded. In a way, it definitely made sense, at least from the emperor’s point of view. “He controls the mages, and that means he controls everything.”

“I wouldn’t say that…the marshals are pretty strong, they say.”

“But if the mages and wizards are all under the protection of the emperor…?” Kharl looked at the third mate.

“Oh…frig…see what you mean.”

After Rhylla left, Kharl turned back to the railing to study the port city. Somehow, it wasn’t just a coincidence that the two strongest lands in the world were the two where mages and wizards were placed to support those who governed. Recluce had some sort of council where the Brethren had a strong voice, and the emperor controlled the mages in Hamor. Candar had once been strong, but when Recluce had destroyed Fairven and the White Order, Candar had fragmented into conflicting lands. From what Kharl had seen, most of Candar, except for Southport and possibly Diehl, was in decline. Even Brysta looked shabby, but both Nylan and Swartheld looked vigorous.

Still, while all that might be true, what could a mere carpenter do about it?