Modesitt, L.E. - The Saga of Recluce 05 - The Death of Chaos by Modesitt L.E

Author:Modesitt, L.E.
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

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Instead, I looked around. "Wegel, when you take a break, the floor needs to be swept. The stalls need mucking, and the lamps need refilling." I fumbled in my purse and handed him two silvers. "We need hay. Rissa will tell you who is likely to have some, and once you unload it, make sure you replace the stuff in the stables."

My apprentice looked up with that dumb, desperate, obedient look that they all have when confronted with the unpleasant. He didn't groan, though. "Y-y-yes, sser."

"I'm going to make arrangements for the brass hinges for Preltar's chest. I hope it doesn't take too long, but I want all that done before you do any more carving."

"Y-y-yes, ser."

I almost whistled as I saddled Gairloch, until I bent too energetically in reaching for the saddle and my assorted bruises and burns reminded me that I still wasn't totally healed from my last encounter with chaos.

As a matter of habit, I did stick the staff in the lanceholder before leading Gairloch out into the yard.

Rissa came out of the kitchen. "Leastwise, you're taking your staff. Southside is filled with ruffians and thieves. You use Borlo, and you don't worry about taking your life in your hands..."

"I'll be fine, Rissa."

"And you were fine taking on all the wizards, and you were fine even in your own bed..."

Clearly, what I said wouldn't matter. So I smiled and climbed into the saddle.

"Just be ready to use that staff, now."

"I will." I tried not to sigh.

Gairloch almost pranced along the road to Kyphrien, and I felt a little guilty that I hadn't ridden him more recently. Poor pony-he either got ridden practically to death or not at all.

I hadn't been in the old southern section of Kyphrien, where the streets were almost narrow enough for me to reach out and touch walls with each arm.

Twice I had to ask for directions of a sort, because all the streets wound in and back on each other, but I finally got it sorted out, and my nose got accustomed to the sourness and the accumulated odors that hung in the older quarter. Fenardre the Great might have done everyone a favor if he'd been more energetic in removing buildings and walls all those years ago.

An outsized copper kettle over a heavy iron-banded door was the only indication of Merrin's location or occupation. The building was a narrow two-storied brick dwelling with a cracked tile roof and a single wide window on the second level-at least in front.

After tying Gairloch to the iron ring on the stone post by the single stone slab that was the front stoop, my staff in hand, I rapped on the door, hard.

"Coming! Coming!"

The door came ajar, and I could see the glint of the blade and the dark iron chain even before I saw the short gray thatch of hair or the high-cheeked and slightly wrinkled face. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lerris. I'm a crafter, and Liessa had suggested you might do the kind of brasswork I need.

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