Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The ground shifted, jerking Kharl against the air shield once more. He struggled to stand erect.

  Kharl waited until he was sure that not only the explosions had stopped, but that no more rocks and fragments of the fort were falling. Then, he forced himself to expand the air shield slightly, just to make sure nothing was resting on top of it that would fall on him once he released the shield. Several more chunks of stone rumbled and rattled away.

  When he finally released the shield, he was standing in a pit surrounded by stone piled somewhat above his head.

  Almost a quarter glass passed before he had climbed out of the pit- most carefully-and started back toward Jeka and the others. He stumbled more than a few times, and half fell into the spongy ground on the north side of the stream, coming down on his knees. He struggled upright and jumped across the stream, then searched for a place where he could use roots to help him climb the bluff that had seemed so much shorter coming down.

  Jeka and Demyst were waiting at the top of the bluff. They reached out and pulled him up.

  “Thank you,” he panted.

  “Not much left,” Demyst pointed.

  Kharl looked back. Before, the fort had looked solid and gray. Now, sections glowed red, and even in the darkness, the trails of smoke that wound up toward the overhead clouds were easily visible. It looked like a vision from the time of the white demons.

  Kharl turned away, almost stumbling again. Jeka steadied him. “Now what?”

  “We find a place to wait where we don’t get too wet. There should be some cots or something near here,” Kharl said tiredly. “When Lord West- or Osten-or whoever-discovers that the fort is gone, they’ll ride down toward Brysta, or they’ll send scouts.”

  “If they don’t?” inquired Demyst.

  “Then Egen will move his troops back up here to guard the gap to the east. That won’t happen. Even Osten isn’t stupid enough to stay blocked away to the east, not if he wants a chance at succeeding his father. He might not confront Egen, but if his lancers and armsmen are where they could attack, he’ll be in a stronger position.”

  “Why haven’t they fought over Brysta?” asked Jeka.

  “Because Brysta is what brings golds into their coffers. They fight over the city itself, and everyone loses, no matter who wins.” Kharl took a deep breath. Demons, he was tired. “If the fighting goes on, they might. I don’t think so, because even the Hamorians wouldn’t want Brysta that badly damaged.”

  He made his way toward the gelding, hoping he could mount. He really didn’t want to remain too close to the burning ruins of the fort. He thought, tired as he was, that he could lead them back the way they had come, using his order-senses and night sight. He stifled a yawn. He hadn’t been sleeping that well, and he needed sleep. He wasn’t certain that he’d get that much, but anything would help-after they put some distance between them and the destruction he had created.

  LXXXII

  Kharl did not find a cot or a hut, but they did find a shed with a thatched roof that had once been used to store hay and shelter a flock. After pulling off his damp boots, Kharl had collapsed on a scattering of very dry hay. His dreamless sleep lasted but a short while before the nightmares began.

  The first one was almost like the battle against the three white mages, except this time, he could not find a way to break their shields or to get close enough to them to unbind order and release chaos-because there were scores of cannon pounding at him.

  Abruptly, he was running through the streets of Brysta, looking for Jeka, because she had slipped away while he was considering what sort of magery to use against the harbor forts that were still held by Egen’s patrollers. After that, he fought against shadowy demons-both black and white. Sometime in the night, however, he dropped into a deeper and dreamless sleep. Or, at least, he didn’t recall any other dreams.

  Both Jeka and Demyst were looking at him when he finally struggled awake and sat up.

  “Cloudy, but it’s not raining now. Might not, either.” Demyst paused, then added, “There’s lancer scouts coming down that east road.” “You’ve been out scouting?”

  “Took Sestalt with me, ser, but I thought it might be a good thing.”

  “It was. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking all that well-“ Kharl wrestled his all-too-stiff boots back on his feet, then stood.

  “You’ve been doing enough for three men. Time for some of the rest of us to earn our keep.” The undercaptain grinned.

  “You’d mentioned that we needed to do something with Osten or Ostcrag ...” ventured Erdyl.

  “We do. We’ll need lancers and some support to face Egen and the Hamorians. Whether it’s Lord West or Osten, they need us, or they’ll get burned into ashes. I’d like to meet Ostcrag or Osten, or both of them, on the flat before the ruins of the fort. If it will make them comfortable, they can bring some guards, but not many.” “Do you think they will?”

  “After they look at the fort?” Kharl raised his eyebrows. “If they don’t, then we’ll have to wait until they get beaten, and hope that there are enough left for a second battle.” “If that happens-“

  “We’ll worry about that if they won’t meet me.”

  “I don’t know ...” muttered the undercaptain. “Don’t know as I like you just riding up there to them.”

  Kharl had thought about that, and he didn’t like it, either, but he was the envoy.

  “I’ll do it,” Erdyl said. “Besides Lord Kharl, I’m the only one any of Lord West’s people might recognize. It’d be better if I went.”

  “Thank you,” Kharl said, hoping that he wasn’t sending his secretary out to his death, but knowing that Osten and Ostcrag were such traditional lords that for Kharl to ride up and announce himself would lessen his stature and increase their contempt for the envoymage- despite what he had already done. To overcome that would require more magery and force. He held in a sigh. Magery would probably still be required. “You’d best take both Sestalt and Alynar.”

  “I’ll get ready.” Erdyl started for the shed door, then paused and called back, “You ought to eat whatever you can, ser.”

  Kharl was already looking for what remained of his provisions. There was some bread, and a chunk of cheese. That was all.

  The undercaptain had followed Erdyl, leaving Jeka and Kharl in the shed.

  “Don’t like sending him, do you?” asked Jeka.

  “No,” Kharl admitted, after chewing a mouthful of bread. “But he’s right.”

  “You can’t do everything.”

  While Kharl knew that, it had never been easy for him to let others do things for him, especially when he had been a cooper, perhaps because so seldom had they done them well, and he’d usually had to do them over again-or live with the consequences. But then, he reflected, as he felt the uneasiness within himself that suggested he was not being accurate, there were all too many times, especially in the last year, when he had not done so well, and it might have been better in some cases to listen to others.

  “Can you?” pressed Jeka.

  “No.”

  “Leastwise, you know that.” She offered a smile.

  Kharl just took it in.

  Abruptly, Jeka rose. “Be back in a while.”

  Kharl finished his meager provisions, and waited. While Jeka drifted in and out, she never stayed long, and that worried Kharl.

  Erdyl returned almost two glasses later.

  Demyst and Jeka joined Kharl as Erdyl dismounted in front of the ramshackle shed.

  “Lord Osten has agreed to meet with you in front of the fort in half a glass,” were Erdyl’s first words.

  “He doesn’t want you to try any trickery,” suggested Demyst.

  “How much trouble did you have?” asked Kharl.

  “It took a while, and a lot of words,” Erdyl admitted. “I just kept pointing to the fort and asking if they wanted the mage who did that on their side or against them. It helped that they finally brought Mihalen to see me. After that, it only too
k about half a glass.”

  Kharl shook his head. He wasn’t certain he would have had Erdyl’s patience. “It was a good thing you went. Thank you.”

  “Ah .. . yes, ser. He said that he’ll have guards, and a crossbowman ready to cut you down if there’s any trickery.”

  Kharl snorted. “If I wanted to do him in, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to try it there.” Osten’s reaction didn’t do much for Kharl’s opinion of the rightful heir. “Did he mention Lord West, or Ostcrag, or say anything about what happened?”

  “No, ser. I thought it was best I didn’t press.”

  Erdyl was probably right about that as well. Kharl looked toward the gelding that Demyst or Sestalt had already saddled for him. “I’d better be going.”

  “Ah . .. and you’re to ride ahead of your guards, ser.”

  “So that his bowman has a good shot, I’m sure.”

  “Can you-“ began the undercaptain.

  “I’ll try, but I can’t hold shields the whole time.” Kharl climbed into the saddle. He still couldn’t vault up the way Demyst and Erdyl, and even Aly-nar, could.

  Demyst and Erdyl rode back along the lane, north on the ring road, then out Angle Road. While two companies of lancers were drawn up on the road to the northeast of the ruined and still-smoldering fort, the space before the fort where Kharl was to meet Osten was empty.

  Kharl halted in the middle of the open space.

  “He has to make you wait,” Erdyl said quietly from where he had reined up behind Kharl. “To prove he’s more important.”

  The more Kharl dealt with lords and rulers, the more he just wanted to return to Cantyl.

  Almost a quarter of a glass passed before Osten, at the head of a squad of lancers, rode across the deep and damp grass toward Kharl.

  He reined up.

  Kharl eased the gelding forward, then also reined up a good ten cubits from Osten. “Lord Osten.” He inclined his head.

  “You asked to meet me, Lord Kharl.” In the dark blue riding jacket, with silver piping, Osten looked more imperious than he had in the receiving hall of the Quadrancy Keep.

  “I did. The night before last, your youngest brother’s patrollers and a Hamorian white wizard attacked my residence in Brysta. We prevailed, but I discovered the next morning that he had also attacked the Keep. We were less than pleased that he appeared to be attempting to remove you and your sire. I attempted to track him through the white wizards.” “How fared that?”

  Kharl shrugged. “We fought three white wizards and several companies of patrollers to the east of the barracks just south of Brysta. All were destroyed, but Overcaptain Vielam had not taken the field. After the battle he fled southward before we could reach him. I would wager that he has rejoined Captain Egen somewhere to the south, perhaps at the fort Captain Egen built along the south road.”

  Osten said nothing.

  “Because we knew of this fort, I decided to attack it last night. I thought that would make it easier for you to bring your lancers to Brysta and south against your rebellious brothers-if that is your intent.”

  For the slightest moment, Osten’s eye strayed to the smoldering pile of stone that had been a fort. “Could you not have spared the fort?”

  “Magery does not work that way,” Kharl replied.

  “Why did you come to me?” Osten’s tone was dismissive.

  “When I presented my credentials,” Kharl said, “I suggested that everything was not as it should be. You chose not to listen.”

  “You knew of my brother’s treachery .. . and you let-“ Osten’s face darkened. “That is insufferable-“

  “Osten . .. you chose not to listen.” Kharl’s patience was wearing thin. “Do you want my help or not? If I walk away, your brother and his Hamor-ian wizards will do even worse to you than I did to this fort.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t care about you very much. The alternatives are just worse. Your brother would be the most evil ruler the West Quadrant has ever had, and before a handful of years had passed, Hamor would rule both the West Quadrant and the South Quadrant. Austra does not want Hamor gaining a foothold so close.” “So you will help me, whether you like me or not?”

  Kharl could see Osten beginning to scheme.

  “No. If you don’t promise to make the justicers more fair, and tariffs lower, and a few other things ... I’ll walk away and let all of you fight over it. Then, when you’re dead, and your brother thinks he can take his pleasures, I’ll have to destroy him and the Hamorians, and then I’ll probably have to make someone like your justicers next Lord West.” Kharl wasn’t certain of any of that, but he was determined to try, and probably Reynol and Lurtedd wouldn’t be much better, possibly even worse.

  “You seek to bargain.” “No,” said Kharl coldly. Osten’s sabre appeared from nowhere, and whistled toward Kharl. Kharl raised the hardened air shield, and the sabre shattered against it.

  Wincing, Osten dropped the useless hilt. “You .. . you mages ...”

  Kharl released the shield, but was ready to raise it instantly. “I am not bargaining. I am giving you terms. You don’t keep them, and I can return to Brysta anytime and kill you. And I will. Do you understand?”

  The lord-heir swallowed.

  “I am not interested in being a ruler, but I want you to be a good ruler. The kind people respect and praise, not the kind that people fear and flee.”

  “You’re weak, mage.”

  Kharl laughed. “Am I? Tell me that when you must have scores of guards. Tell me that when you need to have someone taste everything before you eat.”

  Osten’s face darkened once more.

  Alert to any movement, anyone nearing them, Kharl waited, saying nothing.

  Finally, the young lord nodded. “I must accept your terms. Better you, insufferable as you are, than to lose all to Hamor.”

  Kharl waited once more. “What do you want from me?”

  “To accompany you when you ride south to confront your brother. Two squads of lancers who will keep stray patrollers from getting too close to me while I attack their mages.”

  Osten’s brows wrinkled. “You could do that-“

  “It’s easier that way. Otherwise, I’d have to chase him. Also, he might avoid me and attack your lancers with his forces and the Hamorian wizards. They’d destroy you.”

  “They still might destroy you,” Osten pointed out.

  “They might. But you’re no worse off that way.” Kharl laughed ironically. Talking to Osten was more than a mere chore; it was painful. “He has at least three white wizards. You have none.” Kharl paused, then asked, “What happened to the one you had in the Quadrancy Keep?”

  Osten’s face narrow face froze. For a moment, his black eyes hardened. “He was the one who betrayed us and killed my sire.”

  Kharl had suspected something like that, from the wizard’s reactions when he had presented his credentials to Ostcrag, but there was little point in letting Osten know that. “You are the rightful successor to your sire.” “What is that to you, ser mage?”

  “As a mage,” Kharl shrugged, “not enough to risk my life. But as Lord Ghrant’s envoy, and one who has seen what the white wizards will do to a land, it means a great deal to me. I would not see any land fall to Hamor- or to anyone who might be their tool.” “You think my brother is their tool?”

  Kharl was ready for that question. “Don’t actions speak louder than any flowery words? What do you think?”

  “I think that I need you, whether I like you or not.” Osten’s laugh was hard.

  “As I need you, Lord West,” Kharl replied, “so that Hamor will be kept from both our shores. How long before all your forces are gathered?”

  “Tomorrow, at the earliest.” “Where will you assemble them?”

  Osten frowned, but replied, “At the Quadrancy Keep. There is no other place suitable. It once was just that, and it will suffice for now.”

  “Then I will send my secretary to yours ear
ly tomorrow, to learn when we should join you.” “Are you leaving Brysta?”

  “No. We’ve destroyed two of Egen’s forces, and one fort. I’m going to get a good meal and some rest.” Kharl smiled politely.

  “Till the morrow, ser mage.”

  As Kharl rode off the flat and eastward along Angle Road to rejoin the others, followed by Demyst and Erdyl, he kept his senses alert. He trusted Osten not at all. His problem was that Egen and the Hamorians were far worse.

  LXXXIII

  Brysta was quiet as Kharl and the others rode back to the residence. While there were some souls about the city, they were few, and they scurried away at the sound of riders and hoofs. For the moment, that was fine with Kharl.

  The moment Kharl reined up before the stable, Mantar and Fundal appeared. They assured Kharl that no one had even neared the residence.

  He had not stepped into the rear hallway when Khelaya confronted him and protested, almost as if she needed to complain, that she could have fixed a better meal than they would receive if Kharl had only sent word ahead.

  “I couldn’t, but it will be a good meal, and far better than anything we have eaten,” he had replied. Then, of course, before the evening meal was even being prepared, he had to explain, briefly, but in more detail than he wished, all that had happened.

  From that, Kharl escaped to his chambers, where he indulged himself with a bath, followed by a nap-one without nightmares.

  Around the table that evening, everyone looked far cleaner and more rested than the night before, and there was little conversation for the first moments.

  “You think we’ll ride out tomorrow, ser?” Erdyl finally asked.

  “No. Egen won’t rush north. We may even have to ride to him. Osten will find that he lacks something. It will be the next day, perhaps even the day after.” “Is that wise?”

  Kharl shrugged and looked to the undercaptain.

  “There’s a time for haste, and a time to wait, and times when it matters not,” the undercaptain volunteered. “When Lord Kharl destroyed the fort, that was time for haste, because there were no white wizards to protect it. I can’t see that haste matters that much now.”