Free The Death of Chaos by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

guards to chase the thief.”
       “Me?” I shook my head. “He's gone. What did he steal?”
       “He took some olives, right from the barrel. Scooped them up and ran off.” The fat man waddled toward me.
       “... kid could have used the olives more than Fusion...”
       “You're that famous order-master! Why don't you make sure there's order here in Kyphrien?” Fusion's acrid breath hit me harder than his words as he leaned forward, his face less than two cubits from me. Why was it that people like Fusion recognized me and some of the Finest didn't? Probably because Fusion watched parades like the one Kasee gave on my return to Kyphros, and the soldiers were working or on picket duty- or something.
       “I presume he was hungry,” I said evenly, letting Gairloch back away.
       “So he was hungry! He stole my olives, and what are you going to do about it?” Fusion stepped forward to close the distance between us again.
       Yelena fingered her blade, and Freyda and Jylla watched with impassive faces.
       “Let me understand this,” I temporized. “This young thief was so hungry that he took some olives out of the barrel right in front of your eyes?”
       “Of course. How else would I have seen him?”
       “Does not that tell you something? He is either terribly arrogant, terribly stupid, or terribly hungry. If he is arrogant or stupid, he will try something like that again, and, before long, someone will catch him.” I cleared my throat. “Unhappily, if he is that hungry, he will steal again also, and he will be caught.” I tried to think through what I should say as the merchant jabbed a fat finger at me.
       “You won't do anything? A fine wizard you are!”
       I caught his eyes. “You are wealthy. You are well fed, and you have the means to protect yourself. You are angry because a boy made a fool out of you, and you want to blame someone else. This thief is long gone. I am not a white wizard who sniffs after blood. Nor am I a white wizard who burns people into cinders. What do you want?”
       “I want justice!”
       I grinned. “But you have justice. A hungry boy has been fed, and you have warned everyone about a thief. Is that not justice? Or would you call it justice if a white wizard threw a firebolt and turned that hungry thief into ashes?”
       “Bah... the autarch will hear about this... you'll see... you'll see...” Fusion gave me a last glare before turning and waddling away.
       “... not a bad answer for a young wizard...”
       “... not thai good...”
       “... he's right about Fusion. He's too well fed to chase his young wife around the bed... forget about thieves...”
       We continued riding along the stone-paved street that would lead to the east road.
       “That wasn't a bad sermon,” said Yelena. “Do they teach you that in wizard's school?”
       “There isn't a wizard's school. My father and Justen were always telling me to think before I spoke. People like that merchant don't give you any time to think.” My fingers touched the smooth wood of the staff, and the wood offered some comfort, although I was careful not to put any more order into the staff. You can divide your soul that way. That's really what happens to some wizards, and they don't even know it. I know. It happened to me, but I managed to get it back, mainly because Justen insisted that I reread The Basis of Order.
       “I don't believe in theft.” I coughed. I wasn't used to talking that much. Woodworking without an apprentice is quiet work. “But I don't believe that whipping or killing people desperate enough to steal food in the daylight is likely to do much good.”
       “No.” Weldein glanced toward the eastern gates less than two hundred cubits ahead.
       Jylla and Freyda nodded.
       I gave Gairloch another pat and looked back toward the autarch's residence, although I couldn't see it, and then at the road stretching