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I pointed out that crystals can order light.
Light as a weapon against chaos? Ordered light? I mean, it ought to work,
I suppose. That was Dorrin s theory& but no one has ever made it work.
I didn t tell him that.
That wasn t exactly fair, protested Gunnar.
What he was planning would have been a lot worse.
Maybe& but what if he does make it work?
No one has in two hundred years.
No one was Justen.
It will still be better than false-lead explosives.
I hope so. I do hope so.
So do we all.
CXXIV
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Justen glanced at the cloudless sky of late spring, then carried the
odd-shaped frame from the shed out to the stone walk that led from the front
porch to the road.
After setting the frame in place on the stone slab in the walk and the
square of plain iron beneath it, he tilted the lens in the frame until the
light fell in a point on the square of iron. The concentrated sunlight was
easily absorbed by the iron, just as magic or chaos would have been.
He waited for some time, but the iron changed not at all. Finally, he edged
a splinter of wood into the light. Shortly, it began to char, then flared into
a brief flame. During the process, Justen concentrated not on the wood, but on
the flow of light, sensing the strands as they passed through the lens.
Could he weave more light into the lens? Not like a shield, where the
light was woven away from the object, but in a way that the light would be
knit together? He frowned and reached out with his senses to touch that light,
as strong as iron and as delicate as spider silk, to weave it into a tighter
pattern that flowed through the lens.
As the sweat beaded on his forehead, he could sense the heat on the iron
and see the faint, reddish glow.
He tried to widen the web his mind wove, and shadows fell around him as
though a cloud had grown to cover the sky.
A single point of light flared on the iron, and a few sparks showered off
the plate fragment.
Justen! Elisabet shouted.
He shook his head. The shadows vanished, and he stood again in full
sunlight, sweat dripping from his entire body. He looked toward the porch,
from where Elisabet looked back at him.
She walked down the steps and along the graveled path until she reached
him. I m sorry. I spoiled it, didn t I?
Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder. I can do it again. It works. I
know that now.
It felt weird, Justen. Elisabet shivered. Then I looked at you, and you
were standing in the shadows but there weren t any clouds. And then the metal
caught fire. It was on fire, wasn t it?
Something like that.
At the sound of another set of steps, Justen glanced over Elisabet s
shoulder toward the smithy. Cirlin, her leather apron still in place, walked
briskly along the path toward them. Justen waited.
Trying to forge without coal or charcoal?
Not exactly. I was just trying something out.
I m no wizard, son, but whatever you did- she shook her head -it felt
like you d shaken the ground or something.
Justen looked down at the lens in its frame, then at the fingertip hole in
the iron plate.
Cirlin followed his eyes. Neat, like a punch. But you didn t do it that
way, did you?
No. I tried something with sunlight. It worked fairly well. At least I
think it did. The iron was actually burning.
You burned iron with the sun?
I ll have to do more than that if I want this to work.
Land engines and iron-burning lenses-darkness knows if I want to see what
else you ll come up with.
Justen almost missed the glint in her eyes, then chuckled.
Cirlin shook her head ruefully before she headed back to the smithy.
CXXV
The tall, redheaded wizard climbed the stairs, a loosely rolled scroll in
his hands, a tight smile fixed on his lips.
Derba, what do you have there? The slightly stooped figure of Renwek
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stepped forward on the landing outside the High Wizard s chamber.
A scroll for the High Wizard. Derba bowed. From Wizard Commander Beltar.
That s how he is styling himself.
Wizard Commander now, mused Renwek. Even Zerchas was not quite that
presumptuous. Derba waited.
Might I see that?
But of course. You are the advisor to the High Wizard. The younger White
Wizard offered a too-deep bow as he offeree! the scroll.
Renwek unrolled the parchment and began to read. Then he closed it.
Perhaps you should come with me.
I would not presume-
You already have, since it is clear that you read it first. Renwek turned
and rapped on the door.
Yes?
I have a scroll from Wizard Commander Beltar.
Wizard Commander Beltar? There was a pause. Come on in, Renwek.
Derba is with me, ser.
Well, bring him in.
The two stepped into the tower room.
Beltar is on his way back, with a few picked squads of the Iron Guard and
the White lancers. Renwek bowed to the High Wizard.
I had no doubt that he would be, not after he persuaded the Suthyan
Traders Council to submit. Histen snorted softly, his breath steaming in the
chill of the spring morning that poured through the open window.
Persuade is not exactly the word I would have employed, ser, Renwek
offered.
Bah! He did not shake Armat to the ground, did he, the way he leveled
Sarron. Nor did he burn it as he did Berlitos. What happened to our friend the
firebrand?
I m afraid he has begun to learn something about politics and statecraft,
ser. He did boil the river and the harbor and a few hundred souls before
suggesting to the traders that he could boil them as well. Renwek handed the
rolled parchment to Histen. He took the liberty of sending copies of this to
a few people.
Derba kept a polite smile on his face. What does it say? Histen demanded.
Nothing. A faint frown crossed Derba s forehead, and Histen looked at the
younger wizard. Perhaps you could tell us what it says, Derba,
Uh& I would not presume&
What does it really say? If you ve taken the liberty of reading it, and
you have or Renwek wouldn t have brought you in, you ought to decide what it
means. Histen s words were soft.
Go ahead, suggested Renwek.
Well, ser& there are many fine words, but not much in the way of meaning.
I would guess that mere might be a veiled suggestion that when the time comes,
he will be more than happy to lift the heavy yoke of duty from your aching
shoulders. Derba smiled nervously.
Just as you had hoped to do, young fellow? asked Histen. And don t tell
me you wouldn t presume. Never mind. Don t answer that. You ll either lie or
make a fool of yourself. Histen turned to Renwek. What do you think?
Derba has the idea very clearly. Beltar only wishes to serve the Council
and to ensure your long and healthy life. Renwek smiled blandly.
Ah& only to preserve me from the heavy yoke of duty that weighs me down so
grievously. Perhaps it is time to retire to Lydiar for my well-deserved rest.
Histen snorted again, softly.
Ser? asked Derba involuntarily.
Lydiar is long settled, unlikely to face revolts and the need for heavily
armed troops, and close enough to return to Fairhaven within a handful of
days. Besides, Flyrd would be more than happy to return to Fairhaven and take
your quarters, Renwek.
My quarters?
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You really don t think you want to serve Beltar, do you?
Ah& no. I should think not.
Then perhaps we should make ready.
As you wish, ser.
Derba glanced from one older wizard to the other.
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