The Order War Read Online Free PDF Page A

herself and passing the basket to Krytella. The tureen of stew followed.
    Justen found himself swallowing from the aroma of spices, especially those of ryall and pepper, overlaid with something else. When the huge serving tureen arrived, he followed Dagud’s example, carefully ladling the thick fish-and-vegetable mixture into his bowl. Then he turned to Krytella’s younger sister. “How much would you like, young lady?”
    “My name is Wenda, and I would like it half full.”
    “Then you shall have it exactly half full, precisely half full, as only an engineer can ensure.”
    “I would hope so.”
    Gunnar coughed, and Krytella grinned before speaking. “Good luck, Justen.”
    Justen ladled the stew, extending his order-senses and trying to ensure that the bowl was precisely half full.
    “That was pretty good,” conceded Wenda.
    Justen smiled.
    “You just might be a good engineer,” she teased.
    “Wenda. Do you wish to have the remainder of dinner with us?” Carnela glanced at her daughter, and Justen felt the chill.
    The littlest redhead turned to Justen, her words earnest. “I beg your pardon, Magister Justen.”
    “Thank you, Wenda.” Justen nodded.
    In turn, Carnela nodded at her daughter.
    “Might I have some bread, please?” asked Wenda in a small voice.
    “Just a moment, dear.”
    Justen broke off a chunk from a fresh loaf and offered the basket to Wenda.
    “Thank you.”
    “You are welcome.”
    “The white pitcher is redberry, and the gray one is dark beer,” announced Krytella.
    Justen waited until the gray pitcher arrived before fillinghis mug. Gunnar watched and shook his head minutely. Justen grinned. Krytella frowned momentarily. Justen stopped grinning.
    “How is the port business?” asked Gunnar, looking at Dagud.
    Justen took a mouthful of the hot stew, followed by a quick swallow of the lukewarm beer. His second spoonful of stew was smaller, and he chewed off a corner of the warm, crusty bread.
    “It’s slowed down a bit, maybe because of the problems in Sarronnyn. Haven’t seen a spring this slow in a mess of years. Only ones with the same number of ships are the Hamorians.”
    “All they care about is the gold in their pouches,” sniffed Arline. “No sense of propriety or decency there.”
    “Well, some of ours trade that sharp,” laughed Dagud.
    “The good Counselor Ryltar and his family, you be saying?” asked Arline.
    “He beats the Hamorians at their own. Fastest on the east-west Hamor route. They say he makes a devilish lot there.” Dagud sipped from his mug.
    “What about the Nordlans?” pursued Gunnar. “Some say they still prefer to trade at Land’s End.”
    “Aye, some say that, and a few more ships put in there, but that’s as much because of the winds from Nordla as because of the port facilities.” Dagud paused to take several mouthfuls of stew and a chunk of bread.
    “They say the Council’s talking about expanding the old port at Land’s End, but that’s foolishness, chaos-tinged foolishness at that. You look at the weather records and you’ll see that the number of days you can’t get in there goes up every decade. It was only two years ago when that Lydian side-wheeler got her back snapped on the breakwater.” Dagud took a noisy slurp of the dark beer.
    Justen took a quieter sip, his eyes lighting on Krytella’s flashing green eyes and wide, mobile mouth.
    “Would you like some more of the stew?” Arline lifted the deep bowl and handed it to Justen.
    Justen looked at his empty bowl, grinning sheepishly. “I guess I would.”
    “And have some more bread, too.”
    Justen accepted the bread, took a chunk and passed the basket back toward Gunnar, who had also taken a second helping of stew. “The stew is wonderful. Thank you.” He inclined his head to Carnela.
    “It’s a real treat,” Gunnar added.
    “Is your mother a good cook?” asked Arline. “She must be. You boys—pardon me, I know you’re older than that—you appreciate good