Read Online Recluce 07 - Chaos Balance by L.E Modesitt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L.E Modesitt
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the water, even with the smooth graystone blocks that formed the side of the west towpath of the waterway. The barge glided northward from Fyrad along the Great Canal, past trimmed reeds and ancient stone canal walls.
A kay or so to the east of the canal, the river wound a more sinuous course, and one more dangerous, with its population of stun lizards and sharp-toothed crocodators. The river was used by the peasants who had no coins to pay the tolls of the canal-and those who wished to avoid the keen-eyed Imperial inspectors.
“Gee ... ah ...”
Themphi fingered his smooth-shaven chin, looking straight down and catching sight of his own angel-shaded reflection in the silver-gray waters.
The white-trimmed blue barge continued to glide through the mirror-smooth waters of the Great Canal, another work that Themphi knew could not be replicated by the Empire he served. North toward the Accursed Forest, that expanse of... who knew what that had been bounded by white stone walls and wards since the founding of Cyador-and perhaps before.
He shivered as he thought of the teetering balance between order and chaos that awaited him.
Chaos Balance
XIII
THE MARE'S HOOFS squushed as she carried Nylan down the muddy road toward the brickworks-and the millpond. Beside him, Ayrlyn rode a chestnut mare. As usual, her jacket was fastened-all but the very top-and Nylan's was only loosely closed.
Less than a hundred cubits to their right-west-the rock rose in a sheer cliff nearly a kay up to the high meadow plateau that held Westwind. The two had started their ride after breakfast, and it was approaching mid-morning, although they had not pushed their mounts. Riding in the mud took longer, especially crossing the occasional snowdrifts, some of which remained nearly waist high, and the route was anything but direct. The direct route would have been over the cliff. Instead, they had to ride along the road from the tower up the ridge and down the ridge. From the fork below the ridge, they headed south and then west along the circular trail that eventually led downhill through the true upper forests of the Westhorns to border the cliff face. Nylan supposed the road eventually led somewhere in Lornth, but it wasn't the main road, and neither he nor Ayrlyn had taken it much beyond the brickworks. Neither had had much time for idle travel, and on Ayrlyn's trading runs the previous year, she'd followed the best roads, which were certainly slow enough.
Nylan's eyes flitted from the road to the trees, and his ears and order senses scanned the forest beyond the road, though he could sense nothing except rodents, tree rats, and some birds.
Piles of dirty snow lay under the spreading branches of the evergreens, where the trees had shed their winter coats that had not yet completely melted. For the first time since last fall, Nylan could hear bird calls, even the raucous comments of the loud-mouthed traitor bird.
- Both the smith and the healer wore the twin black steel alloyed blades, and in the combined quiver/case behind Nylan's saddle was one of the composite bows he had created with the last energy from the laser, and more than a dozen shafts sporting the black iron arrowheads he had forged. The smith hoped that he wouldn't have to use the weapons.
“It's muddier this year,” observed Ayrlyn as a glob of mud flicked by Nylan's mount struck her trousers just above her riding boots.
“We had more snow, and it melted later. The snow lilies are just poking through the crust now.”
“I wondered about that.”
“So did I. I suppose our plantings will be later, too.”
“The big red deer have only started into the higher forests. Which winter is more typical?”
“This one.” Nylan laughed. “It's a good thing the first winter was mild.”
“I'd never call that mild. With ice coating all the inside walls of the tower? Mild?”
“We
A kay or so to the east of the canal, the river wound a more sinuous course, and one more dangerous, with its population of stun lizards and sharp-toothed crocodators. The river was used by the peasants who had no coins to pay the tolls of the canal-and those who wished to avoid the keen-eyed Imperial inspectors.
“Gee ... ah ...”
Themphi fingered his smooth-shaven chin, looking straight down and catching sight of his own angel-shaded reflection in the silver-gray waters.
The white-trimmed blue barge continued to glide through the mirror-smooth waters of the Great Canal, another work that Themphi knew could not be replicated by the Empire he served. North toward the Accursed Forest, that expanse of... who knew what that had been bounded by white stone walls and wards since the founding of Cyador-and perhaps before.
He shivered as he thought of the teetering balance between order and chaos that awaited him.
Chaos Balance
XIII
THE MARE'S HOOFS squushed as she carried Nylan down the muddy road toward the brickworks-and the millpond. Beside him, Ayrlyn rode a chestnut mare. As usual, her jacket was fastened-all but the very top-and Nylan's was only loosely closed.
Less than a hundred cubits to their right-west-the rock rose in a sheer cliff nearly a kay up to the high meadow plateau that held Westwind. The two had started their ride after breakfast, and it was approaching mid-morning, although they had not pushed their mounts. Riding in the mud took longer, especially crossing the occasional snowdrifts, some of which remained nearly waist high, and the route was anything but direct. The direct route would have been over the cliff. Instead, they had to ride along the road from the tower up the ridge and down the ridge. From the fork below the ridge, they headed south and then west along the circular trail that eventually led downhill through the true upper forests of the Westhorns to border the cliff face. Nylan supposed the road eventually led somewhere in Lornth, but it wasn't the main road, and neither he nor Ayrlyn had taken it much beyond the brickworks. Neither had had much time for idle travel, and on Ayrlyn's trading runs the previous year, she'd followed the best roads, which were certainly slow enough.
Nylan's eyes flitted from the road to the trees, and his ears and order senses scanned the forest beyond the road, though he could sense nothing except rodents, tree rats, and some birds.
Piles of dirty snow lay under the spreading branches of the evergreens, where the trees had shed their winter coats that had not yet completely melted. For the first time since last fall, Nylan could hear bird calls, even the raucous comments of the loud-mouthed traitor bird.
- Both the smith and the healer wore the twin black steel alloyed blades, and in the combined quiver/case behind Nylan's saddle was one of the composite bows he had created with the last energy from the laser, and more than a dozen shafts sporting the black iron arrowheads he had forged. The smith hoped that he wouldn't have to use the weapons.
“It's muddier this year,” observed Ayrlyn as a glob of mud flicked by Nylan's mount struck her trousers just above her riding boots.
“We had more snow, and it melted later. The snow lilies are just poking through the crust now.”
“I wondered about that.”
“So did I. I suppose our plantings will be later, too.”
“The big red deer have only started into the higher forests. Which winter is more typical?”
“This one.” Nylan laughed. “It's a good thing the first winter was mild.”
“I'd never call that mild. With ice coating all the inside walls of the tower? Mild?”
“We
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