Wellspring of Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page A

him to Fyona’s with the embroidery. He came in right after you left.“
    Kharl stopped by the workbench, then turned as Arthal ran inside, his tunic and trousers darkened with rain. Arthal stopped as he saw his father. “I’m not too happy with you, young fellow.”
    “You’re never happy with me, Da.” Arthal did not meet Kharl’s eyes. “You told me, yesterday, that you’d taken care of all the chores. I just got back from Hyesal’s, and you never ordered the sealant. You told me you’d done that.”
    “I said I’d do it. I was going down there—” Arthal stepped back. “When? Next end-day? Whenever it met your fancy?”
    “It’s not like that.”
    “How is it like?” asked Kharl. “I could have used the sealant today. It would have been ready today. You’re almost a double-eight, and I shouldn’t have to follow up on everything you do.”
    “You said you wouldn’t finish those today.” Arthal’s voice was low. “That isn’t the blade’s edge, Arthal.” Kharl’s tone dropped into resignation. “You led me to believe that you’d ordered the sealant. That’s deception.”
    Arthal did not answer. “Isn’t that deception?”
    “Yes, ser. I’m sorry, ser.”
    “You get a reputation for that, and no one will trust you to do anything. Don’t you understand that? A man’s worth is his reputation. Never forget that.”
    “I said I was sorry, Da.”
    Kharl held in a sigh. “Go on upstairs and see if your mother needs any help or any coal for the stove.”
    Arthal trudged past his father and started up the stairs. “… worse than Father Jorum…”
    The words were not supposed to reach Kharl.
    “What did you say?” snapped the cooper.
    “Nothing, ser. I was just telling myself that you and Father Jorum feel the same way.”
    “That’s about the only thing we agree on,” Kharl snorted.
    Once Arthal shut the door to the upstairs, Kharl walked back to the front window, looking out into the still-heavy rain. “Children,” he muttered to himself, “so sure of themselves… so stupid.”
     
     

Recluce 12 - Wellspring of Chaos
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    Carrying two covered buckets of sealant, Kharl left Hyesal’s so early in the morning that few people were out on the lane. He had placed a broom in Arthal’s hands before he had departed the shop, and told his older son to sweep the stones before the shop clear of standing water and mud from the rain of the night before. He’d even remembered to make it clear to his son that Arthal was to sweep gently, so that mud and water did not splatter up on the glass of the display window.
    Because of the weight of the sealant, Kharl stopped at the uphill side of the square to readjust his grip on the buckets. Early as it was, there were no stalls or carts or peddlers set up. After a moment’s respite, he hurried up Crafters’ Lane toward his shop. As he passed the short ser-viceway between Fourth Cross and Fifth, a narrow passage little more than four cubits wide, he slowed.
    Had he heard someone? Was there someone lying in the shadows where he could not see? Moaning? In early morning? He shook his head and continued the last hundred cubits to the shop. But his thoughts drifted back—who could be in the serviceway?
    Once he reached the shop, he noted that the stones outside the door had indeed been swept clean and were already dry—and that there was no mud on the bricks or glass of the display window. After opening the door, he entered the cooperage and lowered both buckets to the wooden floor.
    Abruptly, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. On the lane, he headed back down toward the serviceway.
    “… a fool… that’s what you are… stupid…” But despite his own words, he stepped into the darkness of the serviceway, checking carefully to make sure that no ruffians or cutpurses might be lingering. For a moment, he saw nothing. Then his eyes made out a bundle against the brick wall, a long bundle.
    “… ooo…” An arm