Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  He had very mixed feelings about greater rewards. By the standards of what he had done, what Hagen had proposed was fair. Yet Kharl couldn’t help feeling uneasy about it. He’d received what amounted to a fortune, albeit smaller than that of a greatholder, for destroying Ghrant’s enemies. He’d accomplished that through the twisted application of order, uses which he doubted that true order-mages would have approved. When he had been a cooper, providing honest crafting for folk like himself, he’d needed to worry over every copper. If he had not had to worry so much, then perhaps Arthal. ..

  He shook his head. More coppers would not have changed what had happened or what Arthal felt.

  Now he needed to worry about coins little, provided he was even halfway careful, although he had done little constructive, and great destruction. He paused in thought. Yet. . . was not preserving a land from rebellion and chaos constructive?

  He shook his head. It had been the lesser of two evils, and he disliked having been put in that position. But was that what having power meant? In a way, he envied Lyras, with his berry bushes. Yet... the white wizards would have killed Lyras had Kharl not come to Austra and done as he did.

  Kharl looked out over Valmurl, the afternoon sun on his back.

  XXXIV

  The next two days were filled with audiences. Standing beside Hagen, Kharl watched, and occasionally made quiet observations to the lord- chancellor as Lord Ghrant heard the pleas of those lords who had not been so loyal as they might have been. The one guilty lord who did not appear before Lord Ghrant-and Kharl and Hagen-was Azeolis.

  Several glasses after the last audience on sevenday, Kharl and Hagen were sharing a small evening meal in the lord-chancellor’s study. Kharl’s thoughts went back to the last audience, the one for a Lord Benin, a round-faced man who had seemed more ineffectual than lordly to Kharl. As he had with the others, Ghrant had found Benin guilty of not fully supporting his Lord, had pardoned Benin, and like the others, required a slightly higher annual tariff from the lord for the next five years.

  “How much longer will he hold audiences?” Kharl asked, after taking a sip of the lager he preferred over wine-at least the wine he had tasted at the Great House. “There can’t be many lords left, guilty ones who are still alive, anyway.”

  “There’s only Azeolis,” Hagen said. “His audience will be the very last. For the first days on the coming eightday, Ghrant will be seeing the loyal lords-and the regents for those who were killed by the rebels for being loyal. He will praise them and honor them.” Hagen’s voice turned sardonic. “He will try not to have to honor them excessively, or with more golds or lands than he plans to take from the estates of the rebel lords.” “Am I to be there?”

  Hagen laughed. “How could you not be there? The most powerful mage in the history of Austra? That is part of the performance. You will not have to say anything, unless you discover something that is highly untoward, but part of the reason for the audiences is to remind each lord of what happened to the rebels.”

  Kharl could see the need for that-unfortunately. “What about Azeolis?” He had an idea, but he was still learning about the politics of governing, and he felt more comfortable having Hagen explain than trying to guess.

  “There will be one long audience to deal with the dead rebel lords, and their heirs-and with Azeolis. Lord Ghrant wants the most unpleasant aspects handled at one time.” “Will he take all their lands?”

  Hagen paused to take a mouthful of the duck confit before replying. “He has already let that be known, if quietly.”

  “So that the heirs will leave Austra? Isn’t he afraid that they’ll plunder their estates to raise golds?”

  “There are guards at all the rebel estates. If the heirs slip away ... so long as the estates remain intact...” Hagen shrugged. “Most of the value is in the lands and the livestock and equipment.” “He’d prefer that they leave, rather than being exiled?”

  “They will be exiled, and if they try to remain, they face a lifetime in gaol.”

  Kharl found that he had little sympathy for the rebel lords, or for their heirs. They had all held great wealth and lands, and the heirs had enjoyed that wealth as well. Lord Ghrant, while not the most prepossessing of men, had certainly not acted cruelly or wantonly, not from what anyone had said. Nor had Kharl found chaos or evil within the young ruler. He did worry that Ghrant was not so strong as a ruler should be; but after having suffered under the cruel strength of Lord West and his son Egen in Brysta, Kharl was willing to deal with a ruler who did not rely solely on the iron fist or the whip.

  At that thought, his lips curled slightly. He had provided that sort of force, if only against the rebels and the Hamorians. Force had its necessary place, but it was a question of balance. He almost laughed. For a man who had never thought about balance, he had come to consider its place in everything in recent eightdays.

  “You find the exile amusing?” asked Hagen.

  “No, ser. I was thinking about force, and how it must be balanced. I was also wondering why men with so much wealth and such great lands would revolt against a ruler who had done nothing to them.”

  “He seemed to show weakness. Weakness-or the appearance of weakness- is an invitation to some. That is why Azeolis’s audience will be the last.”

  Kharl sensed the darkness behind Hagen’s words. “He’ll be made an example, then.”

  “Yes. It will be ugly-and unhappily necessary.” After a pause, the lord-chancellor asked, “How do you like the duck?”

  “Very much. I’ve never had it before, not like this.”

  “I persuaded the cooks to try an old family recipe.”

  “It’s good.” The mage could tell that Hagen was not pleased with the idea of making Azeolis into an example, and yet that the lord-chancellor was convinced that it was necessary. Or was it that Hagen was disturbed that such an example was required?

  He hesitated to ask the next question, knowing the answer already. Still... “You haven’t any word from the Seastag?”

  “No. We won’t unless they port in Lydiar at the same time as the Sea-sprite. You worry about the boy, I know, but...”

  Kharl nodded. Warrl should be safe with his aunt and uncle, but Kharl would have felt much better to have his son at Cantyl. Yet there was no way he could travel to Nordla, not at the moment.

  He glanced down at the remaining portion of the duck on the green- bordered white bone china. Finally, he took another sip of the lager, then slowly cut a thin slice of the duck.

  XXXV

  On sixday, Kharl stood in the audience hall beside Hagen, half a pace back, as he looked out at the group gathered together on the right side of the audience hall. Stationed around them were a squad of armsmen in the yellow and black of the personal guard. Roughly half of those standing in custody were women of all ages; the remainder were children. They were the heirs, consorts, and offspring of the rebel lords, standing and waiting for the judgments to come. Less than a half score were men, and they were all young, not much older than Arthal would have been. At the thought of Arthal, a wave of sadness swept across Kharl.

  “His Lordship, Ghrant of Dykaru, Lord of Austra and Scion of the North.”

  In silence, Ghrant entered the hall from the rear door across from the one through which Kharl had followed Hagen. Once more, the Lord of Austra was attired in black, trimmed in dark green. He took his seat in the ancient high-backed chair on the dais without a word, then nodded to the chamberlain, who stood to his right.

  “Summon the traitor Azeolis,” announced the chamberlain.

  The hall remained hushed, even after the doors opened, and two burly armsmen in the yellow and black of Ghrant’s personal guard marched in a stocky figure dressed in nearly shapeless gray trousers and underrunic. Azeolis’s hands were manacled behind him. A wide and thick band of cloth was tied across his lower face, effectively gagging him.

  Before the doors closed, Kharl caught a glimpse of a full squad of the personal guard stationed outsi
de the audience hall.

  “Azeolis, former lord and traitor,” announced the chamberlain once the captive had reached a spot a cubit or so short of the foot of the dais.

  Azeolis looked directly at Ghrant.

  The young ruler stood and began to speak, his own eyes fixed, not on Azeolis, but on the group to the right and behind Azeolis. “Azeolis-you who were once a lord, privileged and exalted above others-you were not satisfied with wealth and power. You lacked the courage to be loyal and the wisdom to ignore the vain promises of others. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

  Kharl noted that Hagen nodded, as if to himself.

  Ghrant motioned to the armsmen.

  The taller deftly unknotted the heavy gag.

  Azeolis cleared his throat, but did not speak.

  In turn, Ghrant waited.

  Silence weighed upon the entire chamber before Azeolis finally spoke. “I was loyal-once. Before a weakling became Lord of Austra.” The still-stocky man did not bother to disguise the contempt in his voice. “Even now, you do not rule. Your power lies in the judgment of a merchant with a title and a mage from another land.”

  “That may well be,” Ghrant replied. “It shows that I have better judgment about who serves me well than you did. I have chosen loyalty and talent over privilege and position.”

  Kharl caught several looks of surprise on the faces of those in the audience hall.

  For a moment, even Azeolis was silent. That did not last. “You admit you have debased your heritage-“

  “Silence him.” Ghrant’s voice was not hard, but almost tired, the voice of a man who recognized that Azeolis would not hear what was said.

  “Yes .. . silence me.” Azeolis got no further before one of warders wrapped a heavy gag across his mouth and lower face.

  “I silence you because you have already spoken,” Ghrant went on calmly. “You spoke when you joined a revolt that began with the despicable murder of my sire. You spoke when you supported the pretender who wanted to usurp this seat so that he could rule with fire and fear. You spoke when you joined with those who murdered loyal lords and their families. You spoke when you tried to ambush loyal lancers. It is said that actions speak louder than words. Your actions have indeed spoken for you. And for those actions you will pay. You cannot live long enough to suffer as did all those for whom you caused suffering, but you will suffer. You will be flogged like the common criminal you have become. Then you will have all the limbs in your body broken, and then you will be beheaded. Even that is too merciful for someone who has betrayed his heritage and his family. Your estates will be divided. Half will return to the Great House, and half will be broken into holdings. Many of those lands will be distributed to those who worked them, for they should not suffer for your treachery. All the heirs of your body and all those consorted to them and all issue are hereby banned from Austra. Their lives or their freedom, or both, are forfeit should they be found within Austra at the end of the next eightday.” Ghrant gestured. “Take him away. Let his sentence begin within the glass, and let it be carried out before sunset.”

  Once more, Hagen nodded.

  Raw hatred blazed from the gagged former lord-hatred so intense that to Kharl it resembled chaos. Was hatred the chaos of thought-corrosive and destructive, yet with a power to move men to great deeds of devastation? If so, what was the order of thought? Anticipation and thoughtful planning? Or merely good judgment? Kharl wasn’t certain that he knew.

  Ghrant did not seat himself, but waited until Azeolis had been marched out and the doors closed behind the last of the rebel lords. Then he surveyed those remaining, his eyes seeming to move from one face to another, letting the silence drag out.

  In time, he spoke once more, slowly, carefully, with pauses at the end of each sentence. “Your consorts and sires were disloyal. They were disloyal not because I had inflicted harm upon them. Not because I had imposed excessive tariffs. Not because I had abused my position and seized daughters for my pleasure. Not for any reason except that I was considered young and because they sought greater wealth and power. For that, they have paid. For that, all of you will also pay. A mad boar begets other madness, both in the sows and the boars that come from him. Such madness is not acceptable in Austra.”

  Again, the young lord let silence fill the chamber before he continued, repeating his last words before going on. “Such madness is not acceptable in Austra. It will never be acceptable. All of you, save those from the household of the traitor Azeolis, have two eightdays from oneday to leave Austra. You may take with you only what you can carry in one bag. You may not sell lands or equipment, nor may you take more than a hundred golds with you. All the lands that your consorts and lords held have reverted to the Great House.” Ghrant stopped and surveyed the group once again.

  No one cried. Several swallowed. The children glanced from their parents to Ghrant and back again.

  “That is all. You may go and prepare for your exile.” Ghrant nodded to the armsmen, then turned his back on the group, as if in another form of dismissal, and walked from the dais.

  Slowly, silently, the group shuffled out of the audience hall.

  Kharl had to admit to himself that he had been impressed by the young Lord Ghrant, and by the clarity with which he had expressed himself; but it was also clear that those words had not been crafted by Lord Ghrant, or not just by the young ruler. Hagen’s nods had indicated that the audience had been as planned as a minstrel’s song-or even a cooper’s barrel.

  But, Kharl reflected, that was not necessarily bad. When words affected people, should they not also be considered and crafted?

  “Kharl?” murmured Hagen.

  The mage started, then turned, realizing that he had to precede the lord-chancellor from the audience chamber.

  XXXVI

  After the last audience, Kharl retired to his quarters in the Great House. There he wrestled with all that had happened in the eightdays since he had come to Austra, with all that he had done. Just before sunset, the bell tolled to mark Azeolis’s death.

  Kharl left his sitting room, quietly, and made his way to the top of the north tower. First, he watched the sunset, a sunset without brilliantly lit clouds. For a time, he looked to the hills to the north and west. Then he crossed the tower and studied Valmurl, with the evening breeze at his back, as the city darkened and the first lamps were lit. He had skipped the evening meal, neither feeling hungry nor wanting to talk to anyone.

  The rebellion was over, the rebellion that his thoughtless words had sparked. The clenching of his stomach and the uneasiness of his thoughts forced him to correct his thoughts-the rebellion that his thoughtless words had helped spark far earlier than might otherwise have occurred.

  There had been so many dead. So many. Nearly half of Ghrant’s regular Austran lancers and armsmen had perished, one way or another. A third of the personal guard had been killed or wounded, many disabled for life. Kharl had long since lost count of the lords and their heirs who had been killed by one side or the other-and all too many had died from his own efforts. Ilteron, Malcor, Kenslan, Fergyn, Hensolas-and that didn’t count the loyal lords such as Lahoryn and Vertyn and their sons and daughters, killed by the rebels.

  And all of it sparked over truth? Because Kharl had revealed that he could tell when they lied? Did those in power fear so greatly their deceptions being made known? Did being a lord or ruling require that much deception? Was justice a charade?

  He laughed softly, bitterly. It certainly had been in Brysta. But did it have to be? Could justice not be administered, if not impartially, at least with greater understanding and fairness?

  His eyes surveyed Valmurl once more. Did it seem strangely quiet, or was he just imagining what he felt it should be?

  So many questions ... so few answers.

  He turned as he sensed someone else stepping out onto the open tower top-Hagen.

  “I thought I might find you here,” offered the lord-chancellor. “The servers said that you ha
d not eaten, but no one had seen you leave the Great House, not that they would, were you minded to leave without being seen.”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “That can be very dangerous.” Hagen’s words were without a trace of humor, sarcasm, or mockery.

  “I had not realized how dangerous truth can be.”

  “Ah, yes. We all tell our children to tell the truth, even as we conceal it ourselves. Yet none can bear to admit that too much truth is as dangerous as too little.”

  Kharl frowned.

  “Does it do well to tell your consort that she is tired-looking or aging? Does truth serve there, my friend? Do you tell a child that his first effort at... whatever it may be ... is totally without merit? Does it serve to tell a people that many of them are self-centered and lazy? Yet, at times, such is indeed the truth.”

  Even truth was subject to the Balance, it seemed, Kharl reflected. He took a slow breath before speaking again. “You told Ghrant what words to say at the audience, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. What he said was important. He’s not experienced enough to know what to say, but he is bright enough to understand that he needed the right words. We worked on them together.” Hagen paused. “You don’t seem surprised.” “Should I be?”

  “No. You would have been surprised a year ago, but you are not the same man today as you were then.” The lord-chancellor laughed, softly. “Neither am I.”

  “I was thinking that I should return to Cantyl before long.”

  “You should, but not until Lord Ghrant summons you. That is likely to be tomorrow, but at the moment, I cannot press him.” “Did today...?”

  “Like all young men of privilege, he is of two minds. Part of him is still furious at the effrontery of the rebels, and part of him is grateful to have survived and retained his hold on Austra. I am hoping that he will be the wiser for what he has been through.”

  Kharl could sense Hagen’s doubts and concerns. “If he is not?”