Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Kharl walked to the window and looked out for a time. The green-blue sky was cloudless, but already showing heat haze, and there was not even a hint of a breeze. “Ser ... if you would read this?”

  Kharl walked to the desk and took the short reply from Erdyl. He read it carefully before speaking. “That’s fine. I’ll sign it, and you can seal it.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  After signing the reply and watching Erdyl apply the envoy’s seal, Kharl cleared his throat.

  “Erdyl... if you would have Mantar ready the carriage.” “Yes, ser. Where are we going?”

  Kharl grinned. “The undercaptain and I are going to swing by the harbor to check the ships, then go to the Hall of Justice. You are going to come in the carriage so that Mantar can take you to deliver my reply. After that, you’ll locate the residences of the other envoys and make a short call on each, introducing yourself to their secretaries, or whoever acts as such, and finding out what you can. Then you’ll come back here and make some notes on what you find out. After that, if you have time, go through the books in the library and make a short list of any worth my reading. You can also see if there is anything inside any of them that I should know about.”

  “Yes, ser.” The young secretary looked glumly at the shelves.

  “You have more learning than I do,” Kharl said. “You can do that far faster.”

  Erdyl only looked slightly cheered by his envoy’s words.

  “The carriage .. .” Kharl prompted.

  “Oh ... yes, ser.” The redhead turned and was gone.

  Kharl went back to the window, taking in the formal gardens in the bright light outside. At times, where he was and what he was doing seemed almost unreal, as if he were in a dream. Coopers didn’t become mages and envoys, not in the world in which he had grown up. Except that he had, and the world in which he was living was even more dangerous than that of a cooper had been, perhaps because he’d been raised to be a cooper, not a mage or an envoy.

  After a quarter glass or so, Kharl gathered the case he was using for notes, the one that held a portable inkpot, paper, and pens, then left the library. “Lord Kharl?” Fundal stood in the corridor. “Will you be here for the midday meal?”

  “A late midday meal, I’d judge.” Kharl had already decided not to spend the entire day at the Hall of Justice, not as hot as it was looking to be.

  “Thank you, ser. I’ll tell Khelaya.”

  “Thank you, Fundal.”

  The carriage was waiting. So were Mantar, Erdyl, and Undercaptain Demyst. Cevor sat outside in the seat beside the driver.

  “Mantar,” Kharl said with a smile, “we’ll start with the harbor, just for a quick look, then to the Hall of Justice. After that, you can take Erdyl to the Hamorian envoy’s residence.”

  “The harbor, Lord Kharl, then the Hall of Justice, that it is.”

  Kharl settled into the carriage, which, spotless as it seemed, bore a faint odor of mold and age. He rubbed his nose, which had begun to itch, then slid open the side window. Perhaps the movement of the carriage would provide some faint semblance of a breeze, despite the heavy still air.

  “You think we’ll see more ships in the harbor?” asked Erdyl.

  “This isn’t the time of year for heavy trading,” replied Kharl. “Still, I’d have expected a few more vessels.”

  Kharl recalled what Erdyl had said about younger women, and he studied the streets and walks, but he saw none. Then, it was fairly early on oneday, and Kharl didn’t recall ever seeing that many young women out, particularly alone. Had they always had to fear Egen and others? Had Kharl just not noticed that? He didn’t have an answer for that question, and no real way to find out. Not now.

  As Mantar turned the carriage onto Cargo Road, Kharl began to study the harbor as he could. By the time they were on the flat south of the lower market, Kharl could see a large merchanter easing into a berth on the other side of the same deepwater pier where Hagen’s ship had been tied up.

  Kharl studied the ship, then nodded. “It’s another Hamorian.”

  “They’ve got four in the harbor now,” observed Erdyl.

  “No ships from any other lands here,” added Demyst.

  Kharl had noted that the Suthyan vessel had not stayed long, either. He liked what he saw not at all.

  Mantar slowed the carriage and turned in the small square short of the piers, to the south of the new patroller barracks, before heading back up Cargo Road. As Kharl looked back, the lower market seemed smaller, but that might have been because Kharl had changed, and not the marketplace itself.

  Before long, the carriage slowed outside the Hall of Justice. Demyst opened the door and stepped out, glancing around, his hand on the hilt of his sabre. Kharl followed.

  “When should I return, ser?” asked Mantar.

  “A glass past noon.”

  “A glass past noon,” repeated the driver. “Very good, ser.”

  As the carriage pulled away with Erdyl looking glumly from the open window, Kharl turned toward the main doors of the hall. Undercaptain Demyst hurried forward and opened the left one. Inside was cooler than outside under the hot morning sun, but not all that much so, despite the dimness of the main foyer.

  One of the two patroller guards in maroon and blue stationed outside the double doors of the inner hall stepped forward, then stopped, as if he recognized Kharl.

  “Lord Kharl is going up to the library,” Demyst announced.

  The guard watched, but said nothing as Kharl and the undercaptain turned and made their way up the narrow staircase.

  Neither Fasyn nor the other clerk happened to be in his chambers, although one chamber had a wall lamp lit. They might have been in the Hall of Justice or conferring with the lord justicers.

  Just before the library archway, Kharl stopped, recalling the rifles in the residence barracks and Hagen’s warnings. He turned to the undercaptain. “I think it might be better if you watched the hallway here, and the top of the stairs. That way, someone can’t get too close without being seen.” “Ser...?”

  “If you’re out here, you can see if anyone is headed my way. You can check the library first, if that will make you feel better.”

  Demyst frowned, then nodded. “Put that way, it does make sense, ser.” He paused. “There aren’t any other entrances, are there?”

  “No. There used to be a back entrance, but it was walled up years ago, it looks like.”

  Once inside the library, Kharl began to look through the shelves. Very quickly, he noticed that there were no volumes of cases that appeared to have been bound recently. He searched until he found one that seemed to be the most recent and checked it. There were two dates, a Cyadoran date of 1898 A.F. and a second date. The second date was stated as the 27th year of Ostcrag, Lord West. For a moment, Kharl frowned, then nodded. Every ruler of the West Quadrant was Lord West. Ostcrag was Lord West’s personal name, as Osten was that of his eldest son. From what Kharl recalled, Lord West-or Ostcrag-had celebrated his thirtieth year as Lord West only a year before Kharl had left Brysta. That meant that the newest volume was almost four years old.

  After almost half a glass of perusing volumes, Kharl could find no newer compilation of cases. By comparison, he was fairly certain that the newest case volumes in Hall of Justice in Valmurl were little more than a year old, if that.

  He turned as he sensed Fasyn heading toward him.

  “How are you finding things?” asked the chief clerk.

  “I think it will take a little while before I know where everything is,” Kharl admitted. “I couldn’t find any recent cases.”

  Fasyn did not quite meet Kharl’s gaze. “We’re somewhat behind in compiling those. There are only the two of us.”

  “It takes a great deal of work,” suggested Kharl, “and a good hand.”

  “I’ve heard that the role of the bailiff is different in Austra,” suggested Fasyn quickly.

  “I haven’t seen a case tried here,” Kharl replied. “So I could
n’t say. There’s no difference in the guide you provided and in how it’s done in Valmurl. There’s generally only one guard at the outer doors, though. Also, the Lord of Austra does not preside in any cases.” “What about the dating?”

  Fasyn was clearly going to avoid commenting on Lord West’s role in justicing, Kharl reflected.

  “From the cases I’ve read here ... I’ve only read a few,” Kharl replied. “You’re using two dates. All the dating in Austra is from the founding of Valmurl, and that was some sixteen hundred years ago. Only the old cases have Cyadoran dates.”

  “Hmmm ... I didn’t know that.”

  Kharl managed to conceal his surprise, because Fasyn was lying. “I’m sure I’ll find other differences, especially after I see how the lord justicers handle matters.”

  “You plan on observing?”

  “How else will I see the differences?”

  “There is that,” murmured the overclerk.

  Kharl could tell that Fasyn was not pleased with that thought.

  “Do you still follow the Justicer’s Challenge?” asked Fasyn.

  “The offer is made, but I don’t know of a time that it’s been taken. What about here?”

  “Some would-be advocate who wanted to be lord justicer tried it, I’d say fifteen years back.” Fasyn paused. “No. Sixteen, because one of the cases was the Asolin case. He came close, won four out of five. That was right after Lord Justicer Reynol took the dais.”

  “What was the case he lost? The challenger, I mean, if you recall.”

  “Oh. .. that was an assault on a tariff farmer.” Fasyn laughed. “The challenger claimed that, when a tariff farmer exceeded the authority delegated by the Lord of the Quadrant, he could not act under the mantle of the Lord, and therefore an assault was not a crime against the Lord, but against a person, and therefore, merited but a flogging, since no weapons were used. The precedents state clearly that tariffing is a sole privilege of the Lord, and that when delegated, anything that interferes with that privilege constitutes a crime against the Lord.” Fasyn shrugged. “He ended up getting eighty lashes. It took him three days to die.”

  “He followed the Code of Cyad, and not the more recent precedents?” asked Kharl.

  Fasyn frowned.

  Kharl decided to explain. It was one of the few cases where he did know something because he’d seen and followed a tariff farmer’s case in Austra, and because he’d researched some to find out what would happen if he’d done something to Fyngel, the tariff farmer who had cost him his cooperage. “The Code of Cyad made that an absolute law, but that was when the tariffs were collected directly by officials appointed by the Emperor of Cyador. The Lords of both Nordla and Austra have asserted that precedent, but I never did find a proclamation or a case that actually confirmed that authority.” He laughed softly. “Not that I’d challenge a Lord on that point.”

  “You’re a wise advocate in that, Lord Kharl.”

  Kharl did not correct the clerk’s assumption that he was an advocate.

  “I can see that you’re busy.” Fasyn nodded and turned.

  As Kharl followed the overclerk with his eyes, he noticed the robed figure of a lord justicer in the hallway outside. Kharl walked around and behind the shelf, out of sight of the two Nordlans and Demyst. There he raised his sight shield and turned back to follow the overclerk.

  Both men walked to Fasyn’s chamber. Kharl had to hurry to slip inside before Reynol gestured for the overclerk to close the door. The mage had to flatten himself against the wall between two bookcases.

  “What more did you find out about this envoy?” Reynol cleared his throat. “He is an envoy. I checked with Overcaptain Osten.”

  “He knows his way around the cases. He has a recommendation from the lord justicer of Austra. The way it is written, it would be hard to forge. From all that, and the way he speaks, I’d say he’s an advocate, or close enough that it makes little difference. He’s not lord-born, but not low crafter. He’s not practiced much. It could be that he was trained, then was granted lands by Lord Ghrant.”

  “Payback for supporting Ghrant in the revolt, no doubt.” Reynol’s words were sneering.

  “Why would Ghrant send an advocate and call him a scholar of the law?” mused Fasyn. “Do you think he really might be?”

  “I don’t know, but Captain Egen says that Lord West will want to know,” replied Reynol. “We don’t wish to displease Captain Egen.”

  “No, ser.”

  “Watch him closely. Find out anything more that you can.”

  “Yes, your lordship.”

  “Let us get back to the Hall. We need to dispose of that cabinetmaker.” Reynol turned.

  Kharl did not move until the two had left. Leaving his sight shield up, he moved back to the library and out of eyeshot from Demyst before releasing it. He doubted he would find much more of immediate interest to him in the library, but he needed to make sure of that.

  LXII

  Kharl finally returned to the residence sometime closer to two glasses past noon. Before finding Erdyl, he washed up, then came back down the front staircase.

  Erdyl was seated at the desk in the library with a stack of books beside him, jotting down notes. He stood quickly. “Ser?”

  “You can tell me what you found out while we eat,” Kharl said.

  “There’s not much, ser. No one seems to be in Brysta.” Erdyl looked directly at Kharl.

  That was a lord’s reply, Kharl reflected, meaning no one felt to be of power and real import, for the city still held crafters, servers, tanners, scriveners, and even justicers. Kharl decided against calling that to Erdyl’s attention, not at the moment, at least. “Let’s go eat, and we can talk at the table.”

  Kharl was hungry, and a little frustrated. As he’d suspected, the case files in the library not only were old, but there were missing volumes and files in every section. While some of those might well have been stacked on the desks of Fasyn and the other clerk, that still would not have accounted for all the missing documents and volumes.

  As Kharl headed for the dining room, both Demyst and Erdyl followed.

  Khelaya stood at the door from the service pantry to the dining area. “The bread is not so warm as it should be, ser,” she began. “A glass past noon, that was what I was told.”

  “The bread is not your fault,” Kharl said as he seated himself at the end of the dining room table. “I spent more time than I’d planned. I’m sure everything will be fine.” “And the fowl-“

  “I was late,” Kharl said, taking one of the sauce-covered slices, then adding lace potatoes from the casserole dish. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  Khelaya’s knowing glance confirmed that.

  Kharl filled his beaker with lager, taking a long swallow, before turning to Erdyl. “Tell me about each one-in the order you visited them.”

  “First, I went to the Lydian residence. The secretary was there. That was Lyelt. The envoy is Kyanelt, but he returned to Lydiar to meet with the duke, and he isn’t expected back for at least three or four eightdays.” “What did you find out from him?”

  “He told me that I shouldn’t fail to make sure you and I went pheasant hunting in the uplands after harvest, and to take in the ice festival at Kofal at the turn of the year.” “What did he say about Lord West and the Hamorians?”

  “Lord West is most charming. The Hamorian envoy never says anything, and what he does say tells you nothing. Lyelt knows that the Hamorian merchanters are selling goods. At least, they’re unloading them, but he doesn’t know who’s buying them. There are usually Lydian iron factors selling iron pigs here, but he hasn’t seen any of their vessels all summer ...” Kharl nodded. In time, he asked, “Who else did you see?”

  “There isn’t a secretary at the Sarronnese residence, but the envoy has an assistant. Her name is Jemelya, but she just welcomed me, and said that she’d be most happy to meet with me after you met with Envoy Luryessa.” Erdyl took a sip of his white wine, then a mout
hful of bread. “Did she say anything at all beyond pleasantries?”

  “She said I would have an interesting year. I didn’t like the way she smiled when she said it.”

  Kharl laughed.

  “The residence of the envoy from Hydlen was closed. Not even a steward, just a caretaker. The same was true for Spidlar and Certis.” “Did you meet any others from Candar?”

  “The Gallosian secretary was curt. Dour fellow. His name was Ustark. Told me that nothing ever happened here, that the functions all combined second-rate food with third-rate conversation. Not like being an envoy in Cigoerne, where the entertainment and food were outstanding. He also suggested that, outside of his envoy and the Hamorian envoy, none of the envoys were of particular import or ability. I just listened. That part was hard, but I just listened.”

  “Good.” Kharl waited.

  “The Delapran secretary, that was .. .” Erdyl frowned. “. .. Gosperk. All he did was go on and on about how hot and damp Brysta was in the summer, and how cold and inhospitable Lord West and his sons were.” “Did he say why?”

  “His envoy had inquired about a Delapran vessel that had been sighted south of Brysta but had never ported. Osten met with this Gosperk and told him that, after all of the problems with Delapran pirates, the Delapran envoy certainly could understand that sometimes ships just didn’t make port. Gosperk said that Osten was practically smirking. He didn’t have much else to say ...”

  Kharl glanced to the undercaptain, who had remained silent.

  “I wouldn’t know, ser,” said Demyst. Kharl looked back to his secretary. “What about the Hamorians?”

  “I was refused entrance. Both the secretary and the envoy were out. They were conducting business in the south.” “They said that they were in the south?”

  Erdyl nodded, then paused. “No ... it wasn’t quite like that. The lancer who met me said that they were in the south, and I made some comment about envoys having to travel, but that it was likely to be hotter in the south. He said that they weren’t in the south, that he didn’t know exactly where they were, but that they wouldn’t be back for several days.”