Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “It’s hard to tell. It’s less than a company, I think. This wizard feels stronger than the one that attacked Charsal. He might be the one that Kenslan mentioned.”

  “Or another one from Hamor.”

  Kharl didn’t like that possibility at all.

  “What can you do about him?” asked Hagen.

  “To do much of anything, I’d have to get close to him.”

  “It would be better if you didn’t,” Hagen said. “They have two mages. They may have more.” The lord-chancellor frowned. “Will you be able to see exactly where this white wizard is when he gets closer to the Great House?”

  “Not exactly see,” Kharl admitted. “I’ll know where he is.”

  “Can you describe it? Well enough so that crossbowmen can aim a quarrel?”

  “I could. What about rifles- No. I suppose he could set off the powder.”

  “That’s why no one uses rifles against white wizards, and why cannon are used sparingly and set apart. Except on iron-hulled warships.” Hagen’s voice turned dry. “It’s also why there are never very many experienced artillerymen. Even without mages around, it’s still possible for free chaos to set off the powder.”

  Kharl used his order-senses to study the approaching wizard. “I’d say two squads are with him. That’s a guess, though.”

  “We could put a half score of crossbowmen in the gate towers with you, and we could have others wind and cock.”

  “We can try. If he heads for the main gates. If he doesn’t... then I can always try something else,” Kharl admitted.

  “We’d better get moving,” Hagen said. ,

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “You’re still sore, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Kharl was more than sore, but what was the point of admitting it? It had been his own carelessness, and he still had to do something about the white wizards, whether he was hurt or not. “I’ll be there.”

  Hagen nodded, hurried across the top of the tower, and vanished through the door in the archway. He left the door ajar in his haste.

  Kharl followed, not quite so swiftly, descending the steep steps with care, since there were no railings, and the centers of the stone treads had been hollowed out by years of usage.

  The corridors of the Great House seemed empty, even emptier than he might have expected nearing end-day. Was that because people were slipping away, afraid that the rebel lords would overthrow Lord Ghrant?

  Kharl made his way down to the main level, then out across the front courtyard. As he crossed the stone-paved expanse, a half squad of arms- men in yellow and black bearing crossbows hurried past him. By the time Kharl reached the gate tower, its lower entrance was guarded by two arms-men in yellow and back.

  “The lord-chancellor is waiting topside for you, ser mage.”

  “You a former sailor?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “I know I’ll be in good hands, then.” Kharl smiled and stepped through the narrow doorway. The stone steps up the gate tower were even narrower and steeper than the north tower, although the gate tower itself only rose some thirty cubits above the courtyard and the avenue it overlooked.

  The small room at the top of the stairs held four armsmen serving as loaders. Kharl saw that they had more than ten crossbows set out, ready to wind and cock. He nodded as he eased past them in the crowded space and out onto the semicircular battlement overlooking the avenue. Standing behind the center merlon, Kharl began to search for the rebel wizard, with both order-senses and eyes. Directly across the avenue from the gate towers was the Lord’s Park- almost a garden with topiary and grass and stone paths. Around the park were the town dwellings of various lords and wealthy merchants and factors, none over two stories, by decree. Kharl studied the avenue to the north. While someone might have expected so little traffic just after dawn on eightday-that there were so few out on sevenday, usually a market day, was disturbing. He could see a servant hanging out wash in the side court of a modest dwelling across the avenue and perhaps thirty rods to the northeast, and a doorman standing on the porch of a dwelling even farther north, but no riders or carriages were visible on the avenue-not to the eye. After a moment, Kharl could sense the wizard and the riders who accompanied him, now on the avenue itself, and less than a kay away.

  “They’re about three quarters of a kay to the north,” he said, before Hagen could ask him. “They’re moving at a quick walk.”

  “A quarter glass before they’re in range,” Hagen announced. “I’ve had all the other guards stationed behind stone and out of sight.”

  Kharl should have thought of that. Stone was about the only thing, besides thick and heavy iron or an order shield, that could stop a large fire-bolt.

  Silently, Kharl and Hagen watched the avenue.

  Kharl concentrated for a moment, just briefly, on throwing up a weaker shield, one that partly hardened the air but was coated with a thin layer of order to deflect something like a firebolt. He dropped it instantly, but he had wanted to make sure that he was ready.

  “I don’t see any signs of them, not even any dust off the stones,” Hagen said, after a time. “Shouldn’t they be fairly close by now?”

  “No sound, either ...” murmured an armsman behind them.

  Kharl frowned. “They’ve split. The riders are headed down a lane to the east.”

  “There they are! On the lane north of the Lord’s Park,” called one of the armsmen.

  “They’re headed toward Lord Lahoryn’s dwelling,” murmured Hagen. “Right in the open.” He turned. “Theragon! Get a squad over to Lord Lahoryn’s dwelling! Now!”

  “Yes, ser!” came back a call from lower in the tower.

  “Close the main gates behind our squad!” Hagen glanced at Kharl. “The rebels will ride off, but it will stop the destruction.”

  Even as he spoke, the riders fired several times. After a moment, one of the riders dismounted and opened the iron gates to the courtyard in front of the mansion.

  Why were they attacking a supporter of Lord Ghrant, and so close to the Great House? With the others, Kharl watched. Then he shook his head. Where was the white wizard? Outside of a vague feeling that the wizard was somewhere north of the Great House, he could not pin down where the other was.

  “Kharl?” asked Hagen.

  “The white wizard ... he’s disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? Where?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “A diversion! Do you have any idea where he was?” demanded Hagen.

  “To the north ... somewhere.”

  “The bailey gate-that has to be it. We need to get there before he does.” The lord-chancellor whirled and headed for the stairs. After a moment, Kharl followed, trying to ignore his various aches.

  “Send a squad right behind us!” Hagen snapped at the senior squad leader at the top of the tower stairs. “We’re headed for the north bailey gate.” “Third squad! After the lord-chancellor! Loaders, too!”

  Kharl felt as though he were more staggering than anything else as he followed Hagen down the gate-tower steps, back across the courtyard, then around the north side of the Great House. By the time they neared the bailey gate, Kharl was breathing hard, and every breath was agony against his bruised ribs.

  Even from a good fifty cubits away, he could see that there was no one at the bailey gate, a gate far too small for mounted entry, and that the gate was ajar.

  Then the solid oak gate flew open, and rebel armsmen in the green- and-black uniforms of Austra rushed through.

  Kharl could feel chaos building. A shadowy figure appeared behind the armsmen, and a firebolt flew toward Hagen, Kharl, and the armsmen flanking the lord-chancellor.

  “Fire!” snapped Hagen.

  Four armsmen with crossbows halted and fired. Quarrels flew past Kharl. Most of them missed, and Kharl could see several skitter off the paving stones short of the bailey gate. One bounced away from the indistinct figure of the white wizard, who had created a shield.
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  At the same time, Kharl did the same.

  Chaos flared outward from the bailey gate and nearly simultaneously, two quarrels struck the back side of the shield and rebounded toward Kharl and Hagen, one dropping but a few cubits from Kharl’s boots.

  “Have them stop firing!” Kharl said, still holding the shield as another firebolt flared across the north courtyard. “Reload and hold!”

  Yet another blast of chaos flared against Kharl’s shields, but it was weaker than the earlier chaos-fire.

  Kharl tried to reach out to see if he could harden the air around the white wizard, but the distance was either just a trace too far-or perhaps it was because the white wizard had his own shields.

  A third blast of chaos flared against Kharl’s shields, still weaker than the first two.

  As Kharl sensed that the white wizard was trying to recover, he dropped his own shields. “Have them fire now!” “Resume fire!”

  This time, the quarrels began to strike the handful of rebel lancers. *

  Another firebolt arced over the rebels toward Kharl, and he deflected it back toward the white wizard.

  Chaos flared around the wizard, and one of the rebel armsmen flared into flame, screaming, if only for a moment, before pitching onto the stones.

  “Back! Now!” ordered someone, and within moments, the area inside the bailey gate held only those loyal to Lord Ghrant. “Secure the gate!” ordered Hagen. “Two of you hold it!”

  The sound of hoofs on stone echoed through the still-open gate, but faded quickly as the gate closed and the riders departed northward along the back lane.

  Four rebels lay on the stones of the courtyard, just inside the gate.

  “... won’t try that again ...” murmured one of the crossbowmen to Kharl’s left.

  Kharl had his doubts about that. The rebels might well try another sneak attack. They knew that Ghrant only had one mage. He looked at Hagen.

  The older man offered a crooked smile. “Best we take what we can,” he said in a low voice.

  Kharl realized that sweat was streaming down his forehead and that his ribs were aching more than they had-but not too much more. Carefully raising his right arm, he blotted the sweat away with his sleeve. He extended his order-senses, just to make sure that the attackers were continuing northward. While he could not tell if all the riders continued away from the Great House, the white wizard certainly had.

  “They’re still riding north?” asked Hagen.

  “The wizard is.”

  “Stand by here. Don’t open that gate for anyone until either the captain or I tell you to,” Hagen ordered. “The mage and I need to check on some matters.” He nodded to Kharl. “You go first. I’ll be right behind you.” His voice lowered to barely more than a murmur. “You need to eat. You’re as pale as those dressings on your chest.”

  Belatedly, Kharl realized that he did feel slightly light-headed. “I didn’t have time to eat.”

  “Neither did I. Would you join me?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  Before long the two were in a small dining room less than thirty cubits from Hagen’s receiving chamber. There were but two circular tables, and no one else was there-except for a serving girl.

  “Two full breakfasts, with hot spiced cider,” Hagen said, even before he seated himself.

  Kharl sank gratefully into the chair across the table from the lord- chancellor.

  “This morning’s skirmish will hearten the personal guard,” Hagen noted. “They’ll all be saying how you were stronger than the rebel mage.”

  “Order is better at defending, I think.”

  “It also may buy us some time.” Hagen paused. “Why couldn’t you sense him for a time there?”

  “He knew I was looking. He stopped using chaos at all. That was how I found him to begin with. He needed it to get the armsmen close to the Great House, but then he dropped all his shields and stopped using chaos. He and the smaller force slipped behind the bigger dwellings to the north, where we couldn’t see them, and circled around to come down the lane behind the houses toward the bailey gate.”

  “That’s probably how they got in to take Vatoran. They had to bribe someone. I’d wager that the armsman who left the gate open is long gone.” Hagen shook his head. “None of this helps. It was very clever. Even if the attempt to get into the Great House failed, they attacked one of Lord Ghrant’s supporters right here in Valmurl, and they got inside the Great House-twice, if anyone tells about how Vatoran escaped. Word will get around that Lord Ghrant can’t even protect those close to him.”

  All of it had started with Kharl showing that the chief factor had lied, and matters just kept getting worse .. . “What did you want to talk about?”

  Hagen smiled. “Nothing. I just wanted to get you fed. I also didn’t want anyone to notice how much that cost you.”

  “I’ll be better in a few days. I should have kept up practicing using magery.”

  “You’ll get plenty of practice in the next few eightdays.”

  Kharl had no doubts about that.

  “Here comes the hot cider.”

  Kharl let Hagen fill both mugs, then drank slowly. He was hungry.

  X

  Eightday dawned far more quietly than had sevenday, for which Kharl was most grateful, since his chest and ribs did not seem much improved. There was less sharp pain and more of a dull aching. Since Hagen had told him to eat in the smaller dining room, he had enjoyed a hot breakfast there.

  As Kharl had finished eating, Hagen had peered in, a somber look on his face. “I thought I might find you here.”

  “You look worried.”

  Hagen nodded as he slid into the chair across from Kharl. “Vatoran is dead. I just got a messenger from Norgen.”

  “I thought Vatoran had escaped.”

  “He did. He didn’t live very long after he escaped. He was garrotted.”

  “Like the serving girl,” Kharl said.

  “It might have been the same person, someone whom they both trusted. Or they were with someone they trusted, and off guard.” Hagen frowned. “I don’t see why they’d help Vatoran escape, then kill him. If they were worried about what he’d told us, they’d have found out-“ Hagen looked at Kharl. “Chaos-wizards have a hard time telling if someone is telling the truth, don’t they?”

  Kharl considered, then recalled what he had seen in Hamor, where a wizard had destroyed an innocent man who had been telling the truth. At the time, he’d just thought it cruel, but what if Hagen happened to be right? “Some of them probably do. Maybe a lot. I don’t know for sure.”

  “So they couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t betrayed them. That would explain it. Once you’d talked to him, they couldn’t trust him.”

  The rebels had killed Vatoran because Kharl had talked to him? “But he never told anyone anything.”

  “They don’t know that. Lords like Malcor and Kenslan don’t trust anyone. Neither do Fergyn and Hensolas, and I’d wager that they’ve taken over leadership of the rebels.” “There were that many lords who opposed Ghrant?”

  “These things take on a life of their own. Hensolas in particular is too calculating ever to start a revolt, but he might encourage others and let them take the lead. That was why Estloch had sent him off as envoy to Brysta. Once he came back, he’d stayed in the background, but he had to have worried about Malcor’s treachery and Kenslan’s brutality. With both of them dead, and with the quiet support of Hamor-and seeing what you’ve done to Malcor, Kenslan, and Guillam, he and Fergyn wouldn’t trust Lord Ghrant. They’d feel that they had no choice. They don’t.” Hagen’s words were level.

  “You’re telling me that I caused this revolt? Because I caught Guillam lying in his teeth?” Kharl set down the mug of warm cider without taking a swallow.

  “Lords fear the truth at times more than death or their ruler.” Hagen offered a faint smile. “You didn’t cause the revolt. It would have happened before long.”

  Kharl understood al
l too well that Hagen and Lord Ghrant would have liked more time before the rebel lords had acted. He just shook his head. “I was afraid that if Guillam walked out of the audience hall, there would have been a revolt within eightdays. I didn’t realize that I’d cause it to occur immediately.”

  “Lord Ghrant is aware of that.” Hagen fingered his chin. “As I told you earlier, if we can get through this, matters may turn out for the best.” He laughed softly. “The next few eightdays will be the test.” “What else has happened?”

  “Norgen’s scouts have reported several Hamorian vessels off the coast just north of here. They landed a small party, then departed.”

  “Golds ... and more white wizards,” Kharl suggested.

  “The golds I can see. They’re cheaper than soldiers and less costly.”

  “So are white wizards. The one wizard with Malcor wasn’t that strong. Neither was the one with Ilteron. The one who attacked yesterday wasn’t as strong as the one with Ilteron in Dykaru.” Kharl felt that any white wizard he’d bested couldn’t be that powerful. After all, he’d been working with order for less than a year. “You think so?”

  “The emperor keeps his wizards under tight rein. I saw that in Hamor. What better way to suggest that they stay in line than by sending those who are not as ... obedient as he might like to Austra?”

  “And if they refuse to follow orders once they’re here,” Hagen added, “it just creates more chaos here in Austra, and anything that does that weakens Austra.”

  Kharl nodded.

  “Always Hamor ...” Hagen shook his head. “They want to hold the entire world.” “What about Reduce?”

  “Hamor will try to take over everyone else first. It may take generations, but the emperors have all been patient, and they have wizards and iron-hulled warships and golds.” Hagen rose. “How are your ribs?”

  “Still sore.”

  “You’ll have a few days, I’d judge. I’d like more, but I’m not counting on it.”

  Neither was Kharl.

  XI

  As Hagen had predicted, there were no more attacks on the Great House-or nearby-on oneday, or on the days following. Fortunately, the damage at Lord Lahoryn’s city house had been minimal, and not even his guards had been wounded.