The Order War Read Online Free PDF Page B

hurried to catch up with Gunnar, not that he had more to say at the moment.

VIII
    The slight White Wizard inclined his head toward the man seated at the table. “Were you aware, Ser, that the Sarronnese have sent an envoy to Land’s End?”
    “Sit down, Renwek. Don’t be so formal.” Histen gestured to the seat across the table, then poured wine from the pitcher into the second glass.
    Renwek seated himself, nodded to the High Wizard, and took a small sip from the goblet. “You do not sound terribly worried.”
    “At the present time, I doubt that the Black Council will commit any great presence to rescuing Sarronnyn.” Histen sipped his wine and looked toward the half-open Tower window and the pale white glow of Fairhaven in the darkness.
    “How can you be sure your…”
    “My spy…my agent? Is that what you mean?”
    Renwek nodded. “How can you be sure that your ‘gifts’ will remain effective?”
    “They won’t. One can never ensure that aid which is purchased will remain purchased. But these purchases are so recent that it’s most unlikely that the Black Council will act hastily on Sarronnyn’s request, or that Recluce will provide a great deal of assistance.”
    “Are you certain that our…‘influence’ cannot be traced?”
    “Gold, so long as we do not touch it, is actually order-based, Renwek. Honest and non-magical corruption does not require the touch of chaos.” Histen took another sip from the goblet. “And compared to the alternatives, buying even a season’s delay in action by Recluce is cheap at the price.”
    “Would Recluce have acted in any case?” Renwek set his goblet on the table.
    “With the Blacks, one can never be certain.” Histen shrugged.
    “What about your…recruiting efforts?”
    “They go well. The Blacks never should have abandoned their policy of exiling malcontents. They lack our discipline.” Histen laughed. “You see the irony of that? The mages of order lack discipline in governing themselves, while we masters of chaos champion discipline.”
    Renwek looked into the depths of the red wine.
    “Heresy, Renwek? Chaos is indeed heresy.” Histen lifted his glass.

IX
    Justen hung the leather apron on one of the pegs and pulled on the ragged exercise shirt. Then he took the battered red-oak staff from where it leaned in the back corner of his narrow, open closet.
    “The armory all right?” asked Warin.
    “Fine. It’s old enough.”
    “What does that have to do with anything?” The older engineer pulled on a loose, padded tunic, then lifted a gleaming black staff, bound with recessed iron bands, from his closet.
    “Practicing with staffs is good exercise, but it’s quaint, like the armory. What good is a staff when you’re faced with rockets or shells—or with that fire the White Wizards throw? It’s just a relic from the time when anyone who had a different thought was tossed into exile.” Justen twirled the staff close enough to Warin that the older engineer stepped back. Then he thrust the battered red-oak length theatrically toward his closet. “Take that, you White villain!”
    Warin laughed. “Let’s go.”
    With an exaggerated shrug, Justen followed him out of the engineering hall and onto the front porch.
    “Going to get some exercise?” asked the tall, muscular woman. “Must be that you don’t work hard enough here. We’ll let you two take the place of the rolling mill, if you need the work.”
    “You need a different kind of workout, Altara honey,” replied Warin.
    “I’m willing, Warin, but you’d be in two kinds of trouble. Even if you could walk home, Estil wouldn’t leave enough of you to feed the crabs.”
    The two apprentices behind the senior engineer laughed.
    “You got me there, Altara. Even young Justen’s kinder and easier on me.” Warin took three dancing steps down the stone stairs to the stone walkway. A stiff breeze ruffled the wispy blond hair that remained on his head.
    “Don’t let him fool you,