“Yes, ser.”
“Don’t fret so much. We might as well face this storm as run from it.”
As if we have much choice, thought Kharl.
V
Kharl made his way to the kitchen, where he ate heartily, if guiltily, then hurried back to his chamber-carefully-to recover The Basis of Order before returning to Hagen’s small chamber. The pair of guards in yellow and black who had been posted there since his departure a half glass before opened the door for him.
“The lord-chancellor said it might be longer than he thought, ser mage.”
“Thank you.”
Kharl didn’t mind the quiet of the chamber. He needed to think. If armsmen did attack or storm the Great House, what could he do? His skill of hardening air-or anything-was of limited use, except against a very few individuals, and it tired him quickly. He was good with a staff, but that would only be useful in defending himself while he did something else.
The one thing that would be useful would also be the most dangerous- and it would work only if there were but one or two leaders of the attackers. He could use his ability to move unseen and attack the leaders.
That worked only if the attackers did not have a mage who could detect him-and if someone didn’t detect him by other means and fill the air with arrows. His ability to order-harden air and other things was useful only for defense or against one or two people from a very close distance.
What else could he do? The ability to know and tell the truth had only created more problems-or perhaps it had simply made obvious problems that were already there. But sometimes, it was clear, revealing the truth directly was not the best course. Very few people liked hearing the truth.
His thoughts skittered back to the passage in The Basis of Order that he had read earlier in the day. What if there were no such thing as truth? He shook his head. That was not what the words had meant, because the book had said that what was, indeed was. Did that mean that there was something wrong with the idea of truth? That it was something beyond what was?
He nodded. When people talked about truth, there was a righteousness in their words, a belief that the truth was absolutely the way they saw it. That was what the book had meant, and that was why revealing what in fact had happened or what someone believed could be so dangerous. It was not because of the Tightness of what was revealed, but because revealing that kind of truth showed people’s weaknesses. So often what one person saw as truth was another person’s failing.
Kharl smiled wryly. That was an interesting insight, and one he should have understood years earlier, but that was the sort of thinking that wasn’t usually required of coopers. Interesting or not, it didn’t offer a way to solve the immediate problem of what he could do to help defend the Great House.
He opened The Basis of Order and began to leaf through the pages, hoping that something, on some page, might spur an idea. After several pages, his eyes caught on several lines.
... when chaos that is bound to nothing strikes an object, it loosens the bonds that hold the object together. Order holds all together. Without order, stone would be as sand, water as mist or rain. Thus, order can strengthen what is beyond its natural strength, while chaos weakens it...
That didn’t help, except to confirm what he already knew. That additional order was what made the staff of a beginning mage as strong as iron, if far lighter. He might be able to strengthen a weapon or two, but that was all, and someone still had to wield those weapons, and it wouldn’t be him, unless it was a staff. He certainly wasn’t that good with weapons like sabres.
Kharl skimmed through nearly thirty pages before he found something else.
Light from the sun is thought by the learned to be chaos, but it is not that. Rather it is not precisely that. Light is composed of tiny particles of order that can be thought to flow like water in a mill-race from the sun-or from a lamp. The flow is chaotic, but the light itself is not. Could the light be ordered, in a fashion similar to what a burning glass will do, except within itself, its power would be almost without limit...
Kharl pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure exactly what the words meant, but they did mean that sun and light itself were somehow linked to order. How that might benefit him ... or how he could use it... that was another question. The words suggested that there was a way to make the light from the sun terribly powerful, but the book did not say how. Or did it?
He read on, but there was nothing in The Basis of Order that suggested how sunlight might be ordered to create such power. Had anyone ever done so? Kharl smiled faintly. With all the secrets Reduce kept, how would he or anyone else ever know?
The mage who knew that he knew too little kept reading, searching, but, as he had suspected, order was far better suited to protection of an individual than to attacks against an army. Or ... whoever had written it had hidden the aspects of order suited to attack so that each had to be ferreted out in the way that Kharl had figured out how to use the hardening of air as a weapon as well as a defense.
Karl straightened in the chair, then rose, as the door opened, and Hagen entered.
“I apologize for being so long, Kharl.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. If I hadn’t-“
Hagen waved off Kharl’s protest. “You may have staved off a worse disaster. Some of my scouts report that a number of the midlands lords have been riding west to meet with Lord Malcor.” “Wasn’t he the lord who killed Lord Estloch?”
“It was suspected, but there was no way to prove it. Once word got out about your ability to discern the truth, several of the more dissatisfied lords scurried off to tell Malcor. Since he’s avoided Lord Ghrant, I think we can take it that he did murder Lord Estloch.”
“They wouldn’t be plotting another revolt if it weren’t for me, because they could just cover up what happened.”
“There’s some truth in that,” Hagen admitted, “and Ghrant could have used some time to deal with it quietly. But he hates conflict and scheming, and there’s a good chance he would have done nothing.”
Kharl could tell that Hagen believed his own words, and that was both disturbing and a relief of sorts for the mage.
“I’ve talked it over with Ghrant. We’ve sent Casolan west to gather his forces. Casolan’s confident that most of the western lords will either back Lord Ghrant or remain out of the conflict.” Hagen laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? The lords who backed Ilteron are likely to support Ghrant against Malcor and his allies. They don’t want years of squabbling. Most of them backed Ilteron because they felt he was stronger. The way he fought Ghrant weakened their support. Casolan thinks the way that you and Ghrant handled Guillam will add to their backing of Ghrant. They’ve been worried about the power that the factors have been gaining, anyway.” “But.. . trade .. . doesn’t it help all Austra?”
“It does, but it helps the east more than the west.”
As Hagen talked, Kharl felt as though he stood in the middle of a storm at sea, with lightning likely to come from anywhere and waves and treacherous currents all about him.
“They also back you,” Kharl suggested.
“That doesn’t hurt, but it’s not enough.”
“What do you think will happen next?” asked Kharl.
“We won’t see an attack today. Perhaps not even tomorrow. We will see one,” Hagen said tiredly. “Vatoran threatened the guards who imprisoned him. He had already ordered the eastern companies to obey Lord Kenslan if anything happened to him.”
“He wasn’t threatening them. He was bargaining for his own safety.”
“Kenslan, unfortunately, is a better arms-commander than Vatoran, and his son is one of the subcommanders.”
“What if something happens to Kenslan?”
Hagen shook his head. “If it happens in battle, everyone will accept it.
If you kill him with magery, without even an audience, that will just stir things up more.”
“He can start a revolt, take over some of Lord Ghrant’s armsmen,
but if I use magery...?”
“Exactly.” Hagen snorted. “I know. It makes no sense, but that’s the way people are. Everyone knows Malcor killed Lord Estloch; but there was no proof, and without it, no one wanted to act.”
“So we wait?”
“We gather forces, strengthen our position, and see where they plan to attack. There is little doubt that they will attack.”
Kharl could tell he would not be headed back to Cantyl anytime soon.
VI
Threeday passed, and so did fourday. Kharl found nothing else of use in The Basis of Order. On fiveday, right after breakfast, in the chill of the spring morning, under a gray sky with high clouds, Kharl stood in the front courtyard of the Great House, studying the walls, only about five cubits high and but a double course of stone in width-designed to keep out casual intruders, but certainly not an attacking force. But then, Hagen had already pointed out that it would be foolish-both politically and practically-for the rebels to begin with an open attack within the general confines of Valmurl.
“Good day, ser Kharl.”
The mage turned. Undercaptain Charsal stood ten cubits away.
“Good day, undercaptain. What news do you have?”
“No more than you, probably. No one’s moving armsmen toward Val-murl yet. Lord Malcor leveled Lord Vertyn’s country place because Vertyn voiced support for Lord Ghrant. Folk are worried about fighting. Most in Valmurl support Lord Ghrant.” Charsal shrugged. “Then, they might well be telling me that because they know I do.” “What about the factors?”
“My cousin works for Gessryn. He’s a small wool factor. He says that all the factors are upset about what happened to Guillam. Half are mad at Guillam, dead as he may be, because he thought only of himself. The other half are mad because they think Lord Ghrant and the other lords want to tariff them more heavily ... and keep all the power to themselves.” “No one thinks about the people or Austra?”
Charsal laughed. “Have they ever, ser mage?” He nodded. “Need to be reporting to Commander Norgen.”
Kharl returned the nod and watched as the young undercaptain hurried toward the main entrance to the Great House. The mage took a last look at the low walls and turned, making his way through the side service entrance and along the back corridors he was beginning to learn until he reached Hagen’s chamber.
The two men in yellow and black were new to Kharl, but the shorter inclined his head. “Ser mage, would you be wanting to see Lord Hagen?”
“If he’s not with someone.”
The guard turned, knocked once, and said, “The mage to see you, lord-chancellor.”
“Have him come in.”
The guard opened the door, and Kharl entered. The guard closed the door behind Kharl.
Hagen sat behind the table desk, a map spread before him. “Sit down, Kharl. Please.” He returned his attention to the map, then dipped the metal pen into the inkpot and wrote something on the long paper set to one side of the map. He continued to make notes for a quarter glass or so. Finally, he looked up.
“Undercaptain Charsal told me that Malcor had destroyed Lord Ver- tyn’s estate,” Kharl said.
“He did,” Hagen replied. “He also killed Vertyn and his eldest son. The middle son is a junior captain under Norgen.”
“Charsal said no one was moving toward Valmurl. What is Malcor doing?” asked Kharl.
“Word is that he and Lord Kenslan look to be marching northward toward Lord Lahoryn’s lands.”
“If they attack Lord Lahoryn, is that a battle?” asked Kharl. “Will Lord Ghrant see it so?”
Hagen looked sharply at Kharl. “You have something in mind?”
“I do. I don’t like it, but what is ... is.”
“Go ahead, ser mage.”
“It’s simple, honored lord-chancellor. As a mage, that is, with what I know now, I can do very little against companies and armies. I can sometimes do a great deal against individuals. In most battles, lots and lots of armsmen get killed and wounded. Most of the time the commanders and lords don’t, not from the little I’ve seen and what the armsmen say.”
“That’s true, but once you leave the Great House, you’re going to be the target of every crossbow that Malcor and his allies can find.”
“That’s if they know I’m leaving.”
Hagen looked at Kharl. “That could still be very dangerous. Why are you volunteering for something like this?”
Kharl laughed, a sound holding amusement and irony. “If Lord Ghrant is overthrown, after all that I’ve already done, how long before I’m dead or skulking down alleys looking over my shoulder-or back at sea on a vessel far worse than the Seastag?”
“Not long, I’d judge.” Hagen’s smile was sympathetic. “So you want to increase the stakes for Lord Malcor and the discontents? Is that it?” “They’re the ones causing the troubles, aren’t they?”
“Depends on who’s talking.”
“From what I’ve seen, Lord Ghrant’s biggest problem is that he doesn’t look or talk like a leader. He’s not out making free with every girl, and he’s not lining his pockets with everyone else’s coins. Or have I missed something?”
“No. Ghrant doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wants his comfortable life to go on, and he doesn’t want to be betrayed or removed.”
“That’s more reasonable than most lords,” Kharl said dryly.
“You have a high opinion of rulers,” Hagen replied dryly. “So high that I’m surprised that you suggested this ... expedition.”
“Will things get better for what I need to do if I wait?”
“No.” Hagen took a deep breath.
“Do you know if they have any wizards or mages?”
“No one has said anything about wizardry. If Malcor was supporting Ilteron, there might be another white wizard from Hamor around. Supposedly, there were two left, but there’s been no sign of either yet.”
Kharl had hoped there weren’t any, but he’d have to deal with whatever was, wizards or not. He still didn’t like the thought of running up against a powerful white wizard. There was so much he still didn’t know.
“Charsal knows the area. What about sending you with him and a squad on what look to be road patrols? You’d have to wear Ghrant’s personal livery, the yellow and black.”
Kharl fingered his beard. He’d considered going alone, dressed as a carpenter, but carpenters couldn’t afford mounts, and it took a long time to walk anywhere. “That might be best.” “You don’t have to do this, you know?”
“I know. But what I might have to do later, if I don’t, could be worse.”
“I’ll see if Charsal is willing, and then the three of us can talk about where you should go and which roads and lanes to take.”
Kharl nodded. He didn’t like the idea much. He just liked far less what he feared would happen if he didn’t act soon.
VII
Sixday morning found Kharl wearing the yellow-and-black uniform of Ghrant’s personal guard as he rode northwest beside Charsal along a rutted clay road barely wider than a lane. Kharl was doing his best not to bounce in the saddle, but his riding experience had been most limited. Instead of a sabre, there was a cudgel in the lance holder, since Kharl had never learned either lances or blades. Behind him rode ten other lancers, a half squad.
A fine cold spring mist drifted down from low-lying clouds, leaving a thin sheen of water on the lower and more level sections of the road. The flat light gave the water-covered parts of the road a silver cast. The air was still cold and damp enough that at times the breath of the horses steamed.
What was he doing riding out again to do something that could easily get himself killed if anything at all went wrong? Kharl wondered. He’d had to risk his life just to stay alive when he had been running from Egen. Then he’d risked his life in saving Lord Ghrant to repay Hagen. Now he was risking his life, in a sense, to keep what he’d earned so that he didn’t end up back in poverty and on the run. Was life just a continuing series
of situations where he had to wager himself for higher and higher stakes-just to avoid losing what he had? Was that why rulers in difficulties ended up making bad decisions?
After a time, Kharl began to notice an acrid odor in the air. Something was burning, and it didn’t smell like a hearth fire or a forge. He turned to Charsal. “How much farther do we need to ride along this road?”
“A good two kays more, maybe three. Then we’ll be taking a lane to the back side of the orchards. The scouts reported that Malcor and Kenslan have got their forces north of there. The trees have started to leaf out, but they’re mostly still winter-gray.” “That will provide some cover?”
“Enough so they won’t see us from afar, anyway. They don’t have pickets out more than half a kay. Leastwise, they didn’t yesterday. Wouldn’t count on that, though. Kenslan’l begin whipping ‘em into better discipline.” “Vatoran didn’t do that?”
“Vatoran came up through the ranks. Learned that you got further if you didn’t piss off the officers who came from lordly families and if you always said yes to lords. Gets you promoted. Doesn’t make for good discipline.” Charsal laughed. “That’s what Commander Norgen says, anyway. But... back then, who was worrying about discipline? Hadn’t been anyone to fight in years.”
“It’s late to instill discipline after the fighting starts,” Kharl said dryly.
“Yes, ser. Commander Norgen said that Lord Estloch should have kept Lord Hagen as arms-commander, but too many of the younger sons of lords complained that he was too strict.”
So Hagen had once been arms-commander of Austra? Hagen had alluded to his past, but that was something he hadn’t mentioned.
“That’s when he went to sea, they say.” Charsal frowned, then held up a hand. “Halt.”
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