Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Then, finally, the tanner spoke. “He was cheating everyone, ser. Taking golds in the name of the Lord, but keeping ‘em. Everyone knew it. Even the steward knew it. No one did nothing. Some years, I could pay it, hard as it was. I couldn’t this year. Emela, she lost the baby and couldn’t help none, and I had to hire Balsat’s boy. I told Yeson that, and all he said was that everyone had a story, and iffin I knew what was good for me, I’d be paying. I knows what he was saying. His guards, they burned down that cooper’s place. Kundark couldn’t pay, neither. No one did nothing then, neither. Everyone said it was an accident. Wasn’t no accident.” Tellark closed his mouth sharply, as if he had said too much.

  Kharl could sense that the tanner was telling the absolute truth, and he would have wagered that Priost knew it as well.

  “Did you come to the Great House and tell anyone this? Did you come here?”

  “Wouldn’t done no good.”

  “Did you try?”

  Tellark did not look at the justicer. “Got nothing else to say.”

  “You may be seated.”

  The guards escorted Tellark back to the other table.

  When Jusof had stopped writing, seemingly for the first time since the trial had begun, Kharl cleared his throat, gently.

  “Yes, Lord Kharl?”

  “What happens next?” Kharl kept his voice low.

  “He will decide. There is nothing more to be heard.”

  “Now?”

  “Shortly.”

  Lord Justicer Priost never left his podium desk, but neither did he look up. Upon occasion he wrote something down, but he did not appear to have written that much. After less than a quarter glass he looked up.

  “Master Tellark, come forward.”

  The guards flanked Tellark when he stopped before the dais, and this time, they were far closer, and far more alert.

  “Call forth Steward Keromont.”

  Kharl wondered about that, but said nothing as the tariff steward returned to the hall and stood beside Tellark. Keromont kept glancing at Kharl.

  “Master Tellark and Steward Keromont, here is what the justicing has found. First, the tariff farmer Yeson had made a practice of excessive tariffing. He had used his guards to intimidate those tariffed so that they would not protest. The tariff steward was not aware of the degree of such abuses. Such a practice is not conducive to an orderly collection of tariffs, nor is it to the benefit of Austra.” Priost looked hard at Keromont.

  The steward swallowed, but did not speak.

  “Second,” the lord justicer continued, “the tanner Tellark did in fact murder the tariff farmer Yeson with a hammer, and the tanner did so in a manner that showed that he knew what he was doing.” He paused and looked at the tanner.

  Tellark did not look directly at the justicer.

  “Therefore, with regard to the questions of the tariff, this justicing sets forth the following. First, the tariff steward will review the rolls and records of all tariff farmers on a regular basis and, where necessary, require a tariff farmer to explain any tariff that the steward judges as excessive. Second, those rolls will henceforth show both the Lord’s tariff and the amount collected. Failure of a tariff farmer to keep accurate records will be deemed a crime against the Lord. Third, the tariff for this year for the tanner Tellark will be deemed paid on the rolls of Yeson’s successor and upon the accounts of the Lord of Austra.” Priost looked at the tariff steward. “Is that clear, Steward Keromont?”

  “Yes, Lord Justicer.”

  Kharl almost opened his mouth in astonishment that the lord justicer could impose requirements on the Lord of Austra-and expect compliance.

  Priost turned his eyes back on Tellark. “Master Tellark, with regard to the murder of the tariff farmer Yeson, you are found guilty of that murder, and hereby sentenced to be hanged at sunset tonight.”

  Tellark did not move as the two armsmen each took hold of him.

  “Let justice be done,” Priost stated, rising.

  “All rise!” ordered the bailiff.

  Priost did not turn and leave the dais until both Keromont and Tellark had been escorted from the hall. Then, without a word, the lord justicer turned and walked to the small doorway from the dais. The few spectators in the hall began to file out in silence.

  After several moments, Kharl turned to Jusof.

  “You are most agitated, Lord Kharl,” suggested Jusof, in the silence of the nearly empty chamber as the clerk straightened his papers and closed the portable inkpot.

  “He killed the tariff farmer, but the tariff farmer was charging him far more than he owed. For that he’ll be hanged? Not put in gaol or flogged, but hanged?”

  “It is true that Yeson was not known to be the most scrupulous of tariff farmers. He had been overtariffing the tanner well beyond his costs and pocketing the difference. There were reports that he had done the same with others.” Jusof paused. “In none of those cases did anyone come forward or complain.”

  “They were afraid,” suggested Kharl.

  “Doubtless they were, but the law cannot reward fear. It cannot guess what people may think or feel or need. If no one speaks, the law cannot act. Tellark could have come to the Hall of Justice and protested. He could have gone to Lord Ghrant’s tariff steward.”

  “But... how would he know that?” Kharl certainly hadn’t known that such possibilities existed. Then, in Brysta, he doubted that protesting would have changed anything, because Egen had ordered Fyngel to increase the tariffs on the cooperage so that Kharl could not pay. Kharl had to admit that Tellark had not faced quite as great an injustice-but it was still injustice.

  “Did he ever ask? There is no evidence that he did. Rather than try for a better solution, he killed a man. The tariff farmer was not a good man. We know that, but the law must frown on people deciding on their own whose life to take and whose to spare.” “But hanging?”

  “What would you have the lord justicer do? Tellark did kill Yeson. Regardless of the reason for the killing, except in self-defense, or in defense of family, a justicer cannot excuse a killing. In a brawl or an accident, the death penalty is not required, but Tellark knew full well what he was doing. The law cannot excuse willful and knowing murder. If the lord justicer allows attacks on tariff farmers, who are not the most beloved of men, that weakens Lord Ghrant and all of Austra. Who would then pay their tariffs? Justicer Priost did what he could under the law. He insisted on an accounting of all the tariff farmers’ rolls. He mandated a change in accounting, with penalties, and he dismissed the tanner’s tariff for this year, presumably on the grounds that the tariff farmer exceeded the authority granted by Lord Ghrant and that the tariff steward did not exercise adequate supervision. That will ensure that the widow will retain the tannery. The other tariff farmers will receive the message that excessive zeal is not acceptable.”

  “That does not seem totally fair.”

  Jusof smiled sadly. “Totally fair or just it is not. You might recall, Lord Kharl, what I said about the law when you came to the Hall of Justice. Law is a tool. It is not justice. Sometimes it can be close to it. At other times, while the law is the best we have, it cannot be just, not without destroying Austra itself.” The clerk slipped the papers and inkpot into his case, then withdrew a single sheet, which he extended to Kharl.

  Kharl took it.

  “The lord justicer has suggested that you write an advocate’s brief. You’ve read enough of them-on a forthcoming case. I have the file in my chamber. Your brief will remain, of course, private to me and the lord justicer.”

  Kharl looked at Jusof. Write a brief? He’d never written much of anything, except a few letters, one or two short statements when he bid on barrels for the harbor fort at Brysta, and his statement of candidacy to become a master cooper.

  “Just use the same format as all the others,” Jusof offered. “It’s a simple enough pattern. Make it short. Most are too long.” The clerk smiled briefly, then stepped away from the table.

  A
s he followed Jusof, Kharl was silent. Write a brief? Why? He wouldn’t ever be an advocate. Could he even write three sentences that made sense?

  Even as he pondered the lord justicer’s request, Kharl was still wondering about Jusof’s words about Tellark’s fate. The law could not be just without destroying the land? He’d thought he had understood what Jusof had said on the first day, but Priost’s death sentence for Tellark cast that understanding in a different light. Was it fair to require people to act when they might suffer? That was what Priost’s decision had said, in effect. But Kharl could see what Jusof had meant as well. For years, the tanner had done nothing. Then ... he had murdered the tariff farmer. Priost had crafted a sentence to reduce the abuse, but did not excuse the murder.

  Kharl took a deep breath. Without even the struggle that trying to write a brief would entail, he had more to think about, because what he had seen went far beyond the Hall of Justice.

  LI

  As Kharl stepped into the lord-chancellor’s chamber, he saw standing beside Hagen a young man, one who looked like he’d scarcely reached his first score, for all that his shoulders were broad, and he was less than half a head shorter than Kharl. His hair was a rusty red, and his face was lightly freckled. He was clad in gray trousers and a dark green tunic that brought out the paleness of his skin.

  Upon seeing Kharl, even before the door had closed behind the mage, the young man bowed. “Lord Kharl.”

  “Lord Kharl, this is Erdyl,” Hagen said, with a smile. “He will be your secretary, more properly the secretary to the Austran Envoy to the Western Quadrant of Nordla. He also has been told that he is to say nothing of this until it is proclaimed.”

  Kharl had recalled something about a secretary, but seeing the young man brought home the point that he would scarcely be traveling alone, not when he would be accompanied by Undercaptain Demyst, Erdyl, and guards. He also understood that Hagen had told Erdyl about Kharl’s future duties as a form of test. If Erdyl said a word, Kharl suspected he would have a new secretary.

  “Lord Hagen had told me I would have a secretary”-Kharl offered a smile-“but little more.”

  Erdyl stood respectfully, waiting. His eyes appraised Kharl, but the mage could sense no chaos.

  “Erdyl is the youngest son of Lord Askyl of Norbruel,” Hagen went on. “He has five older brothers, and his father had suggested that he might be most suitable.”

  Kharl could detect neither untruthfulness nor sarcasm in the older man’s words. “Erdyl, with the lord-chancellor’s word, I am most certain you’ll do well.”

  “I would hope to do my best and to support you in all that you require.”

  “Except magery,” Hagen added dryly. “And that is something you are to mention not at all. To no one.”

  “Oh, yes, ser. I did not mean such,” Erdyl said quickly.

  Hagen gestured to the chair before his table desk, then seated himself. Erdyl waited until Kharl was seated before sitting. The lord- chancellor turned back to the young man. “Erdyl, Lord Kharl’s strengths are magery, an understanding of men that few possess, and great strength of will. He is less conversant with the intricacies of etiquette. Your tasks are to write what is needful in a manner that captures what Lord Kharl requires and to provide any insights that will prove useful. You are to obey Lord Kharl in all matters, however. I say this not just as a polite phrase, but as a matter of your survival. There are very few, if any, left alive, who have failed to heed Lord Kharl’s warnings, while most of those who have followed his direction are hale and hearty.”

  Erdyl nodded solemnly.

  While Kharl could sense the young man’s acquiescence, he also had the feeling that Hagen had already made the same points in private with Erdyl.

  “In addition to his duties as envoy, Lord Kharl will also be studying the laws of Nordla while he is in Brysta, as he has been doing with those who serve the lord justicer here.”

  That, Kharl sensed, was a definite surprise to the young man.

  “The way the laws are administered can tell much to an envoy,” Hagen went on, “and such investigations are far less dangerous, and less costly, than attempting to play at the game of spying. You will, of course, say nothing of what Lord Kharl does beyond the general observation that he is an envoy-unless he orders you to do so.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “When we are alone, you may ask why I do something,” Kharl added, thinking that was something he should have handled better with Arthal.

  “But only when you are truly alone,” Hagen added. “You will also be tasked with writing the final draft of Lord Kharl’s reports in fair hand, and some of them might be quite long.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “You will also be tasked with organizing anything that Lord Kharl wishes done. While he is finishing his work at the Hall of Justice, you will be learning a few matters here at the Great House, from me, and from the commanders, and from the stewards ...”

  Almost a glass passed before Hagen stood. “I have a few words for Lord Kharl, before you two have a quick midday meal. It will be brief, because Lord Kharl is expected back at the Hall of Justice.”

  Kharl repressed a smile. Hagen was stretching the truth there a little.

  Once Erdyl had left them, the lord-chancellor turned to Kharl. “Erdyl writes well, and quickly. Despite his age, he sees much, and his mind is also quick.”

  “He has enough older brothers that he has no chances of seeing any coins from the family lands,” suggested Kharl.

  “His father has been loyal to both Lord Estloch and to Lord Ghrant,” Hagen added.

  Kharl smiled. He understood that Hagen wanted someone who could help Kharl, but whom he could also reward, and someone who would be regarded as very traditional by doubting lords. It made great sense. “Is there anything I need to worry about with him?”

  “Don’t disappoint him. If you plan to do something to upset his high opinion of you, explain why.”

  Kharl also understood that. “I’ll try.”

  “Go have your meal with him.” Hagen gestured toward the door.

  “Yes, most honored lord-chancellor.” Kharl grinned.

  “Out, troublesome lord mage.” Hagen followed his words with a rueful smile.

  Kharl laughed and made his way out of the lord-chancellor’s chamber.

  Erdyl was standing outside in the corridor. “Ser?”

  “We’ll just go to the smaller dining hall,” Kharl said, turning down the corridor. “I only have a glass or so before I need to get back to the Hall of Justice.” Erdyl looked quizzically at Kharl. “Ser .. . might I ask ... ?”

  “I’m trying to learn how to write an advocate’s brief.” Kharl stopped at the archway into the dining chamber, then saw that the smaller table was empty and headed toward it.

  Erdyl followed, but did not speak until they were seated. “Is that part of being a mage, ser?”

  “In a fashion, I guess.” Kharl motioned to one of the servers.

  “A lager, Lord Kharl?”

  “Yes, please, and whatever you think is best for the meal.” Kharl looked to Erdyl.

  “Ah . . . red wine, please, and whatever Lord Kharl is having.”

  “I’ll have your lager and wine in a moment, sers.” The woman smiled pleasantly and headed for the back staircase down to the kitchen.

  “You’re from somewhere near Bruel?” asked Kharl.

  Erdyl smiled, seeming almost embarrassed. “It’s not so close that I’d call it near. Father’s lands lie nearly a hundred and fifty kays north of Bruel along the coast. It takes an eightday by the roads to get to Bruel. That’s in good weather in the summertime.” Kharl laughed at his own misunderstanding. “And in the winter?”

  “You can’t use the roads. The Sudpass is snowed in within a few days after harvest is over, an eightday or two at most. There’s a fair harbor in the town. That’s Norbruel. The holding house is on the hill to the north of town. We can see the harbor and Seal Island from the terrace.”
r />   “Did you want to come to Valmurl? Or was it your father’s idea?”

  “I asked, ser. He had no objections.” Erdyl’s voice was even, almost flat.

  “He really didn’t think it was a good idea,” suggested Kharl.

  Erdyl looked at Kharl, then shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “No, ser. He said that, if I wanted to make my way among strangers, I might as well try. He sent a letter to Lord Hagen, even before he became lord- chancellor, asking if Lord Hagen might find me a position.”

  Kharl nodded. “How long have you been in Valmurl?”

  “Just three eightdays, ser. Once Commander Casolan sent word that it was safe, Father put me on the Seafox. He’s known Lord Hagen since they were young, and the lord-chancellor had sent back a letter asking Father if I’d be willing to serve Lord Ghrant.”

  “I’m scarcely Lord Ghrant,” Kharl pointed out.

  “You are one of the most loyal lords serving him, it is said.”

  Kharl still found it jarring to be called a lord, and he wasn’t quite certain what to say to Erdyl’s statement. He pondered for a moment before answering. “I came to serve Lord Ghrant because Ha- Lord Hagen served him, and Lord Hagen is the most worthy man I have met.” He stopped as the server set a pale lager before him and a goblet before Erdyl.

  “Did you really turn a mountain into glass?” Erdyl asked.

  “Not exactly,” Kharl replied. “Order doesn’t work like that. A white wizard tried to use chaos to burn up all our forces, and I turned the chaos back on the wizard. Part of a hill behind the wizards turned into glass.”

  The young man nodded slowly. “I didn’t see how a black mage would do that, but everyone kept saying that you had.”

  Kharl took a sip of his ale before saying more. “I’ve been told that I’m not exactly like other order-mages. I seem to be a little better with shields, but I don’t seem to have much talent for healing or things like that.” He felt that he was being truthful in what he said. “Shields? Like an old-style lancer?”

  “No. A way of stopping chaos-fire and, sometimes, things like crossbow bolts. That’s if I know they’re coming.” Kharl took another sip of lager. “Have you ever been in Nordla, or anyplace else besides Norbruel or Bruel or Valmurl?”