Somehow . .. after all that had happened, Kharl just wished Egen had known, really known, who Kharl was. But life didn’t always work out the way one hoped. There hadn’t been a real confrontation, just a footnote to a battle, and Egen was dead. It didn’t seem that Egen had paid enough for all his villainy, not near enough.
“Ser?” Demyst’s voice broke through Kharl’s reverie. “It’s not that safe here, still.”
“You’re right.” Kharl urged the gelding downhill and more to the west.
They had ridden less than half a kay when yet another group of riders appeared, these in Brystan blue.
Kharl blinked when he saw the serjeant who commanded the squads
of lancers that had accompanied him-and the half score of lancers who
remained, though the lancers hung back from the Serjeant. ・
You stayed here?” Kharl asked. ,, “As would any smart man, ser mage.”
Kharl could feel his own party closing up behind him.
“Lord Osten is now Lord West,” Kharl announced, using almost his last strength. “He has the field. You can tell him that he will know where to find me.”
Kharl swayed in the saddle.
The serjeant smiled, driving his mount toward Kharl and lifting his sabre. Kharl tried to turn, but he was sluggish, so sluggish.
The blunt edge and the hilt of Erdyl’s sabre-thrown end over end- slammed into the Serjeant’s shoulder and neck.
Then Demyst and Alynar struck, and the serjeant sagged in his saddle.
Another lancer slashed at Erdyl, who had no sabre.
Somehow ... Kharl managed to unlink the tiniest bit of order from something-whatever was easiest-in the lancer who had slashed Erdyl. As the chaos flared, Kharl flung up a half shield, one that directed the force across the rest of Osten’s lancers.
Not only blackness, but strobing light-flashes flared across and before Kharl, clouding his order-senses. He could barely feel Jeka, riding closer to him.
“Get me out of here,” he hissed to her. “Can’t hang on much longer. If Osten gets to me ...”
At that moment, the deeper blackness swept over him.
LXXXVI
Kharl woke up in a bed. He thought it might be the large bed in the residence, but, since he still could not see, and since his head throbbed so much that he could not use his order-senses, he was far from sure.
His throat was dry, and he tried to sit up.
“Easy there.” The voice was Jeka’s.
“Thirsty ...” The single word was an effort.
“Got some ale here.”
“Can’t see,” he tried to explain.
Jeka guided a mug into his hands.
He drank slowly. After several small swallows, he could feel the ale easing the dryness in his throat. Some of the throbbing in his skull subsided, enough that he could tell that he was in his own chamber and that Jeka was the only one with him. “What happened?”
“Undercaptain got me onto your horse. Held you, and we rode back. Alynar helped Erdyl.” “How is he?”
“Khelaya thinks he’ll be all right. Arm’s pretty smashed up. Hope it doesn’t get wound chaos.”
“That takes a few days,” Kharl said. “When I’m feeling better, I think I could help there.” He took a longer swallow of the ale.
“Told you not to trust Osten. Bastard, always,” said Jeka. “Stupid, too.”
Kharl could agree with both Jeka’s judgments.
“Still think he ought to be Lord West?”
“Who else? If Vielam’s still alive, he’s worse. He’d betray anyone. The two lord justicers don’t have any guts ...” Kharl stopped and coughed. His head throbbed more. When the spasm passed he took another swallow of the ale.
“Anyone shown up,” he asked, “looking for me?”
“Not so far ...”
“What time?”
“Close to midnight. Could be Osten’s still out there ... grabbing coins and booty.”
“He doesn’t know what happened,” Kharl said. “The only ones close enough to see ... We don’t know what happened, either.”
“That was Egen at the end, on the hillside, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. He abandoned the wizards, I think, just before .. .”
“Too quick for that pissprick.”
Kharl had to agree. Egen didn’t deserve a quick death, or just to die once, not after all he had done. “Best I could do.”
“Hope it hurt-a whole lot.”
“With Egen gone ... and the white wizards...” Kharl paused for another sip of the ale to forestall a second bout of coughing. “You think Osten managed to come out on top?”
“He might not have had to fight that much,” Kharl suggested. “The regulars might have accepted him as Lord West. You think they want to die for someone who’s dead?” “What about the other one?”
“Vielam? He might have tried to rally them around him, but that’s hard to do in the middle of a battle.” Kharl stifled a yawn.
“You need sleep,” Jeka insisted. ‘
“So do you.”
“Won’t get it unless you do.”
He could hear a hint of humor in her words. “Thank you ...”
“Nothing ... did what...” Her hand touched the back of his briefly, then squeezed gently before taking the mug from his hands. “Go to sleep.”
Kharl leaned back into deeper darkness.
LXXXVII
By twoday evening Kharl had regained his eyesight, at least most of the time, although he had moments when everything turned black. Brysta remained quiet, from what he could see and hear and from what Mantar and the other retainers had observed. The lower market square was almost as filled as usual, according to Enelya, who was more willing to venture out, although there were no patrollers around. The upper market square was less frequented, with but half the vendors and buyers. That could have been because it was closer to the Quadrancy Keep, where many of Osten’s forces had returned.
While he recovered, Kharl spent some time considering exactly how to deal with Osten, and how he might handle matters-if he had to meet with Osten, as well as if Osten decided to avoid or ignore Kharl. He still had not heard anything from or about Werwal, but he still didn’t have retainers to spare to go inquiring, not at the moment. Nonetheless, it nagged at him.
As with everything else involving Osten, matters took longer to sort out, and Kharl heard nothing from the new Lord West until midmorning on threeday, when a pair of Osten’s personal guards escorted an undercap- tain to the residence.
Kharl, Erdyl, and Demyst met with the undercaptain in the library. Kharl stood in front of the desk and did not seat himself, nor did he offer a seat to the lancer officer.
“Undercaptain Huard.” The young officer gave a perfunctory nod.
“Greetings, undercaptain.” Kharl did not smile. “You have a message from Lord Osten.”
“Lord West had noted that you did not remain long on the field.” The undercaptain’s words were delivered in a matter-of-fact tone. “And that none of the lancers who accompanied you have been since seen.”
Kharl had thought that a few might have escaped either the white wizards or his own wrath, but he couldn’t have said he was surprised that they had not.
“I thought it unnecessary to remain,” Kharl replied coldly, “since Lord West had conveyed the message that he had no further need of my services after I had defeated the white wizards and destroyed the Hamorian lancers.” “Ser?”
“The message was both direct and personal, undercaptain, and Lord Osten is well aware of it. What do you want?”
Huard looked from Kharl to Demyst, then to Erdyl, his arm bound and in a sling. All three looked coldly at the junior officer. Huard swallowed. “Ah ... I was not aware of any such message ...”
“It was sent, nonetheless,” snapped Erdyl. “Your lord should have been more respectful of a mage who salvaged his rule for him.”
Kharl repressed the faintest of smiles.
“Nor is it exactly respectful,” Erdyl continued, “to send a boy of an undercaptain after displaying such disrespect.”
“But... he is Lord West...”
“Lord Kharl represents Lord Ghrant, the ruler of all Austra, and a domain many times the size of the West Quadrant.” At the chill in Erdyl’s words, Huard looked almost helplessly at Demyst.
The older undercaptain remained stone-faced.
“What has happened has happened,” Kharl said evenly. “Why did Osten send you?”
“Ah ... he wishes to meet with you, ser.”
“Why?”
Huard glanced around the library, then finally looked back at Kharl. “I do not know.”
Kharl could sense that was not quite the truth. “Then I would suggest that you guess,” he said dryly. “I am not interested in meeting with Osten unless I know why.”
“It... might be about the harbor forts. The remaining rebels hold them. There are no cannon remaining, and the two gunships cannot be found.”
Kharl suspected that the two small warships of the West Quadrant would never be found, not unless someone found a way to search the bottom of the Eastern Ocean. “I will meet Lord Osten-at the foot of the oceangoing piers. He is not to bring more than a squad of personal guards.”
“He had thought.. . the Quadrancy Keep.”
“At the foot of the piers, at the third glass past noon. I will be there.”
“Ah.. .”
“You heard Lord Kharl.” Erdyl’s voice was cutting. “Lord Osten requested a meeting. He has it.”
“Ah ... yes, ser.”
“Oh ... undercaptain,” Kharl said politely. “I would also request your presence at that meeting. If you are not there, I will not meet with Lord Osten, either.”
“Me, ser?”
“I am only thinking about your health, undercaptain,” Kharl said.
At those words, Huard paled. “Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.” He bowed.
When the captain had left, Demyst laughed softly. “Scared the piss out of him, you did. Little snot deserved it.”
Jeka opened the door and slipped into the room. She looked at Kharl. “Bastard Osten wants something from you. What?”
“He wants me to bring down the harbor forts, I’d wager. We’re meeting at the third glass after noon on the ocean piers.”
“Bastard tried to kill you.”
“He’ll deny it,” Kharl said.
“Still did.”
“There’s no proof. Osten and the five of us are the only ones alive who know what happened. That may be for the best.” Jeka snorted. “You’re still going to meet him?”
“Yes. So long as the rebels hold the harbor forts, there won’t be any merchanters in here. We can’t leave, and neither can anyone else.” Kharl fingered his chin. “The rebels probably wouldn’t be holding out if Vielam didn’t happen to be with them, and Osten’s afraid that so long as he’s alive, the Hamorians will keep meddling. That’s not good for anyone.”
“Don’t like it,” said Jeka.
“You think I do?” asked Kharl.
“What will you do?”
“Take some precautions.” Kharl turned to Demyst. “Can you find a pair of good pistols that you can use?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Good. Now ...” As he spoke, Kharl just hoped that, among the four of them, they could cover most of the possibilities that would allow him to deal with both the harbor forts and with Osten’s treachery and duplicity.
LXXXVIII
Erdyl had suggested that Kharl keep Osten waiting. Kharl had demurred. “It’s better if I’m there first.” For one thing, Kharl could sense any changes that might reveal any treachery Osten planned. Also, Kharl saw no point in mere pettiness.
With Alynar seated beside him on the driver’s bench, Mantar drove Kharl, Demyst, and Jeka to the piers. Jeka was still attired as a young man, wearing openly the knives she had learned to use so well in her days as a street urchin. The carriage came to a halt at the first ocean vessels’ pier at half before the third glass.
Before getting out, Kharl turned to Jeka. “I’d prefer that you stay here with Mantar and Alynar, but if you see anything that looks like trouble, let me know.”
“I can do that.” She nodded solemnly.
Kharl caught the gleam in her eye. He hoped she didn’t see trouble, because she’d be in it if she did. He got out and looked up to Mantar. “I’d like you to wait, but more toward the slateyard-that new barracks there- a little away from where Osten will show up.”
“Yes, ser.”
As the carriage moved away, Kharl walked onto the pier a good thirty cubits, stopping next to one of the heavy bollards nearly as tall as he was.
Demyst took out one of the pistols. “Good weapon. Wasn’t quite sure we could get these, but Sestalt has his ways.”
“We ought to make him the head of guards at the residence. Start a regular guard corps. It’ll have to be small.”
“I’ve mentioned the idea to him. Besides Sharlak, he has another man who might do well.”
“That’s all we can afford,” Kharl said. “For now, anyway.”
The moments drew out.
“You think he’ll come?” Demyst finally asked.
“Osten? He wants something that no one else can provide. He’ll come.”
“He won’t be happy.”
“He never will be.” After the words left his mouth, Kharl looked down at the worn and graying timbers of the pier. Was he like Osten? Not exactly, because he’d been satisfied with being a mage, even being a cooper-the undeniable satisfaction of a task well-done. But what about happiness? Joy even?
He glanced along the seawall toward the slateyard, where the carriage waited. “What do you think of Jeka?” he asked Demyst.
“Why, ser, if I might ask?” Demyst’s voice was quiet, deferential.
Kharl wasn’t certain what to say. “I came back here for her. Not just for her, but more for her than I knew.”
“That says something, I’d wager.” Demyst half smiled. “She didn’t leave your chamber that night after the battle. Don’t ever tell her I told you.”
“She doesn’t like to let people know she cares,” Kharl said.
“Begging your pardon, Lord Kharl, ser . .. but neither do you, not in words. You’d walk through chaos to save a friend, but you’d find it hard to tell him he was your friend.”
Kharl started to protest, then stopped. Had he ever told anyone he’d cared, or loved them? Warrl-but only when he’d had to leave his son with Merayni. After a long silence, he said quietly, “Thank you.”
“Ser . ..” Demyst broke off. “Riders coming down Cargo Road, ser. Looks to be Lord Osten, or ... Guess he’s probably Lord West now.”
Kharl extended his order-senses toward the short column of riders. So far as he could tell, there was no chaos, and none bore rifles. That would doubtless change in the seasons and years ahead, now that the Hamorians had discovered how to keep the powder from being set off except by more powerful mages. Still, he stood ready to throw up shields.
“I count just two squads. Think he’s got a company holding farther up the hill.”
Kharl reached out farther to the north, then smiled. “He does.”
“He’s the type. Like your little Jeka’s words for him.”
“She’s not mine,” Kharl said with an embarrassed laugh.
“She’ll never be anyone else’s, ser.”
“She won’t belong to anyone. She has to be herself.”
“So do you, ser,” the undercaptain said.
“When you want to point out something, Demyst, you get very formal.”
“You are a lord, ser.” The undercaptain’s words were delivered in a humorously sardonic tone.
Kharl would have said more, but Osten had reined up at the foot of the pier and dismounted. Kharl focused his senses on the new Lord West, and upon the squad of armsmen that followed him. Leading the squad was Undercaptain Huard. His face was set... and
pale.
Kharl could sense Demyst easing back, to give the two lords space to themselves.
“Well, Lord Kharl, mage of mages, I have received your messages,” said Osten, his voice cold, “and I am here to attend you.”
“You requested the meeting, and I obliged,” Kharl replied. “I also must apologize,” he went on smoothly and politely. “I fear that Undercaptain Huard did not appreciate all that occurred. You will understand if I did not enlighten him. I would hope that he has a long and rewarding service under you.”
Osten frowned. His eyes fixed on Kharl. “Your face is blistered, ser mage.”
“Chaos can get very hot, when facing four Hamorian mages.” Kharl paused. “Undercaptain Huard did not convey the reasons for your wanting this meeting. Your youngest brother had garrisoned the harbor forts with his patrollers. He was killed in the battle south of Brysta. It appears as though the forts have not surrendered, and I would also surmise that Over-captain Vielam is now commanding the remaining rebels and has taken refuge there.”
“You surmise much, Lord Kharl.”
“That is what envoys for rulers are supposed to do.”
Osten did not quite meet Kharl’s eyes. “It is true. The last of the rebels still hold the harbor forts. The ... other rebel... is in one of them.” “They will not surrender?”
“No. They say they’ll be killed anyway.” Osten laughed, harshly, bitterly. “Killing is too good for them. For him.”
“They-and the Hamorians-have caused much trouble,” Kharl observed politely. “Could you not have captured the two traitors?” asked Osten. “Especially the one?”
“Egen?” asked Kharl. “He was hiding behind the white wizards. When their chaos turned on them, everything around them was blasted into ash.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but Kharl didn’t feel like explaining.
“That was too quick a death for him.”
“What would you like of me?” Kharl asked.
“I would like the harbor forts captured and the remaining traitor taken alive. He betrayed my sire, and he betrayed me.”
“Do you want personal revenge more than you want to hold Brysta?” asked Kharl. “What do you mean?”
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