Read Online The Death of Chaos by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online

floor tiles. Dyrsse scans the empty military anteroom, then shakes his head. He sets the marshal’s cap on the polished stand by the large doorway next to the two silent guards, wearing swords, in the antique orange and black dress uniforms that date back to the founding of the Empire.
    Lord Chyrsse reappears. “His Excellency is waiting!”
    The marshal steps toward the heavy wooden doors warded by the guards, who turn, silently, and open them.
    Lord Chyrsse straightens his silks and steps through the double doors before Marshal Dyrsse. “Marshal Dyrsse, responding to His Excellency’s commands!”
    Dyrsse’s lips barely quirk at the high-pitched squeaking announcement, and he steps into the receiving chamber, where he walks to the orange carpet, turns to the throne and bows deeply. He waits.
    “You may depart, Lord Chyrsse.” The Emperor’s voice is deep, surprisingly deep, coming as it does from a thin figure with short but thick salt-and-pepper hair and a narrow beaked nose. Stesten’s eyes are a piercing light green.
    Behind the marshal, Lord Chyrsse bows and walks back through the side doors, which close with a dull thud.
    There are no guards visible in the hundred-cubit-long chamber, but the dozen embrasures in the overhead gallery, and the four in the wall that forms a semicircle around the throne, testify to their hidden presence.
    “You may approach, Marshal Dyrsse.”
    The slim bald man in the tan uniform walks forward until he reaches the foot of the five wide steps that lead up to the imperial throne where he bows again. “Your Highness. How might I serve you?”
    “By doing what you do best.”
    “As Your Highness commands.” Drysse bows a third time.
    “You are to go to Candar, to Dellash. We are going to complete the work there that has been waiting for too long. For far too many ages and through too many insults to the greatness that is Hamor.”
    “Yes, Your Majesty.”
    “You sound doubtful, Marshal.” The Emperor’s voice hardens.
    “Your Majesty already has sent two envoys to Candar. Although your wish is always my desire, what could I add?”
    “Neither has your understanding of ships, troops, and tactics. And neither has the understanding that Candar merely represents a step toward our ultimate and long-delayed goal.”
    Dyrsse spreads his hands, as if in puzzlement.
    “You should not question, but you would not be Dyrsse if you did not. That is why you are a marshal and not an envoy. Currently, Candar is relatively orderly. I am led to believe that will change shortly.” A laugh follows. “Through the infusion of yet more order. We perhaps might even aid in that infusion of order.”
    “Us? Infuse order?”
    “Let us just say that matters will shortly become very chaotic in Candar. That is, if my scholars are correct, and so far they have been. This will provide us an opportunity to impose our own form of order.”
    “The grand fleet?” Dyrsse pauses when there is no answer, but does not wipe the perspiration from his forehead. “Sire…as you know…As you know, I have indicated that the forces presently committed to Candar are insufficient.”
    “That they are, but, for now, you will carry out the orders of Rignelgio or his successor, as well as you are able.”
    “As you wish, sire.”
    “It is as I wish, Dyrsse. Remember, one cannot eradicate a nest of vipers without provoking and observing them to determine how widely and deeply they are spread. If I send the grand fleet now, what will it gain me?”
    “All of Candar will submit. Or…”
    “They might put aside their petty quarrels? They might, although I doubt any, except the autarch of Kyphros, are so perceptive. Better that we continue with the present strategy. Candar will fall, country by country, and then…then the black devils will have nowhere to turn.”
    “Yes, ser.”
    “You are thinking that it is better to strike with a heavy hammer from the first.” There is a sigh from the throne. “That hammer