Wellspring of Chaos

LXXVII

By threeday evening, after two frantic and hectic days, the Seastag was back in Valmurl harbor proper, tied to the innermost pier for oceangoing vessels, the so-called Lord’s Pier. The last of the wagons that had been lined up on the pier had been unloaded in late afternoon, and the cargo stowed below. Now, the pier was empty, except for an occasional sailor. But a handful of vessels remained in the harbor, and no others at the Lord’s Pier.

Because the day had been warmer, and because the light was brighter, Kharl had come topside to read and found a quiet place forward of the paddle wheels. Hunched in his winter jacket, wearing a glove on the hand that held the book, but not on the one that turned the pages, in the dusk he looked down at the open page of The Basis of Order. He had read the words before, but he read them again.

Order cannot be concentrated in and of itself, not even within the staff of order, and no man can truly master the staff of order until he casts it aside.

How could anyone master something that he cast aside? And why should anyone cast aside something as useful as a staff?

The next words had not been much more help.

For order cannot be divided in two without its power being diminished by four, and if it be divided into four parts, then its power is less by another fourth, so that the total of all portions is but one sixteenth of what it would have been undivided. Likewise, so it is with a staff imbued with order for whoever wields it…

Kharl closed the book. He would have to think even more about what those words meant. He almost wished he’d gone to see Lyras again, but he’d had so little time when he hadn’t been busy or so tired from work and from what efforts he had made to try to do more with his order-abilities.

“You’re not tired now,” he murmured to himself. Not so tired as he had been, anyway.

He tried to recall what the mage had said about making himself invisible to others, something about letting light flow around him, that light flowed like water. But from where did it flow? Kharl glanced at the western sky above the roofs and towers of Valmurl. Some light flowed from the sun. Did it flow from lanterns or fires or torches? He had not found anything in the book about invisibility, or how to do it. He’d found very few references to light, and most of those referred to the chaotic nature of light, how it was not ordered.

He paused. He’d tried to let light flow around him before-a number of times-and nothing had happened. Lyras had said that becoming invisible was a trick, but one he’d never mastered. And he thought Kharl could? The carpenter laughed to himself.

Still…what was the harm in trying?

Could he try to order the light, use his senses to smooth it around him? As if he were really not standing there on the deck? He just leaned back against the chill wood of the paddle wheel frame and closed his eyes, trying to feel or sense the light.

Nothing-he sensed nothing. Except…something like a whispering white breeze. Was that light? He tried to ease it around him, as if he were not there. Nothing seemed to change, and he opened his eyes-only to find that he couldn’t see. He was surrounded by blackness.

He swallowed and pushed at the light, and his sight returned.

For a time, he just sat there in the chilly dusk, breathing heavily and holding on to The Basis of Order.

What had he done? Did being invisible mean that he wouldn’t be able to see? He tried to recall what Lyras had said. Something about needing his order-senses? Then Kharl remembered. “You’ll be blind.” He shivered.

He considered. He’d been blind, and now he wasn’t. So…what was it? If the light flowed around him, and he needed light, even a little bit, to see…He shook his head. It was so obvious. He really hadn’t been blind. He just hadn’t been able to see because he’d had no light to see. But did that mean that others couldn’t see him?

Slowly, he stood. Did he want to try again? If he didn’t, how would he learn? But he also recalled that moment when he couldn’t see. He took a slow deep breath and tried once more.

The second time the blackness was just that-blackness, no light. He tried to place where he was with his order-senses, and began to feel what was around him. Then, carefully, he eased his way aft, toward the quarterdeck where Rhylla had the deck duty.

He could sense her as he neared the railing, but he tried to make no sound. She turned, then leaned forward as if peering in his direction. Then she turned toward the gangway and pier.

Kharl slipped back forward and around the paddle wheel frame before he released his smoothing of the light. He sighed-deeply.

Again, he was tired. Not so drained as when he had hardened the water, but tired.

He paused. Could he harden something like the air he breathed? Into an invisible shield before him?

Kharl stood on the deck, letting his senses try to feel the air before him. For a moment, he just stood there, almost entranced, as he could see the tiniest fragments of order and chaos hanging in the air. Slowly, he concentrated on a square section of air a cubit before his eyes, twisting the hooks of order and chaos together.

Then he reached out with his hand, gingerly. The air was hard…hard as if it were an invisible metal plate. He tried to push it, but it did not move or give way. He yawned, and his eyes blurred.

He could feel his knees turn to water, and he sat down on the deck, harder than he wanted to. Then, blackness washed over him.

“Kharl? You all right, fellow?”

The words slowly penetrated, and Kharl looked up at the shadowy figure of Rhylla. “Tired…was reading. Guess I just fell asleep.” He pulled himself to his feet.

“You look tired. Tarkyn must be working you hard.”

“Sometimes. Times, I just work myself too hard.”

The third laughed. “From anyone else but you I’d call that a load of sowshit.”

“Could be from me,” Kharl admitted. “But I am tired.”

“Best not to sleep on the deck-not in port. Never know who might slip aboard.”

“You’re right. Thank you.”

Rhylla turned away.

Kharl reached up, trying to see what had happened to the air shield. It was gone. Did that mean that it took his own concentration to maintain it…or that it would melt away in time? He wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the effort to find out. Certainly not at the moment.

He slowly headed for his bunk in the forecastle. If he were going to use the air as a shield, he needed to become better at it, or the effort would likely kill him faster than whatever he was trying to protect against. More practice might help…he hoped.

He yawned again as he stepped through the hatchway. He was tired.