L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

Demyst frowned.

“He’ll be there. Or his patrollers will be. That’s where his golds are. If he’s not there, he’ll be at the fort off the east road.”

“Why there?” asked Erdyl.

“That’s where they can block any lancers from the north and east who might support Ostcrag and Osten.”

“Do we know if they’re still alive?”

“I’d guess that at least one of them is. If they were both dead, Egen and the white wizards would already be holding the Quadrancy Keep.”

“What about the other son-Vielam?″

“I don’t know. He favors Egen, I’ve heard. Doesn’t matter, though. Either Ostcrag survived the attack on the Quadrancy Keep, or one of the older sons did. Otherwise, Brysta would be crawling with patrollers and white wizards.”

Jeka grimaced, but said nothing.

Kharl rose. “We’d better get ready.” He turned to Khelaya, standing inthe archway to the kitchen. “We’ll need some provisions, and I’ll need a hefty bag, and my water bottles filled with cider.”

A quizzical look momentarily crossed the older cook’s face.

Demyst raised his eyebrows in a different inquiry.

“It’s not much of a secret now,” Kharl said. “I’m an order-mage. I can’t keep using magery without eating a lot.”

“After last night, it had to be something like sorcery,” Khelaya said. “Never seen anything like that.”

Behind Khelaya stood Enelya, and the serving girl’s mouth opened. She shut it quickly, and her eyes went to Jeka, who gave the slightest of headshakes.

“We’ll make sure you have enough,” added the cook.

“Thank you.” Kharl hurried up to his chamber, where he donned a black riding jacket and quickly washed, before heading down and out to the stables. As he crossed the stretch of gardens, he glanced up. The clouds had lifted some, but had also darkened slightly, suggesting more rain later.

Mantar had the chestnut gelding saddled and waiting for Kharl. Demyst and Alynar were packing provisions into their saddlebags. Erdyl had already mounted, as had Sestalt, bruised as he was. Enelya stood to the side, holding several more bags.

Kharl looked to the serving girl.

“Jeka already packed yours, ser,” Enelya said quickly, not meeting Kharl’s eyes.

Kharl followed her glance to the side of the stable yard. Jeka was already mounted. She wore a gray jacket, and she’d cut her hair boy-short once more. Before Kharl could say a word, she spoke. “I’m going. I can run messages. Do stuff.”

Kharl didn′t say anything. He just stood there for a long moment. He didn′t want Jeka anywhere near the fighting.

“Don’t leave people,” she added. “Told you that once.”

She had. More than once. And Kharl had let Merayni take Warrl away for his son’s safety. Warrl and Merayni were dead. Who could protect Jeka at the residence if Egen sent men after her? He didn’t like the idea of her coming with them … but … with all the chaos and Egen′s viciousness, she well might be safer with him.

Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Stay out of the direct fighting. Thank you for taking care of the provisions.”

“Yes, ser. You got two bottles, both filled with the cider. I got three bottles, case anyone needs some.”

“Good.” Before mounting, Kharl used his order-senses to make sure that the saddlebags were indeed filled, but did not touch them, not wishing to suggest that he doubted Enelya or Jeka.

As was all too often the case, he was the last mounted. He looked to Khelaya and Mantar. “Take care.”

“That we will, ser.”

Kharl eased the gelding forward and past the side of the residence. As he rode past the sagging gates, he studied the street. The on-and-off rain of the night and early morning had dampened the ashes into a black-and-gray paste that mottled the ancient yellow bricks, but the few charred lumps that had been the men and mounts not totally turned to ash by Kharl′s magery had disappeared. Marks in the sodden ash indicated that a wagon had been used. Kharl suspected that Mantar and the gardener had taken care of that. He could worry about that later. He looked back at the residence. He still worried about those remaining in the residence, but Mantar insisted that they’d be safe, and that they could retreat to the cellar if need be.

“Don’t wait,” Kharl had said.

“No, ser, but there’s just ash out there now,” Mantar had explained with a smile. “A bit more rain, and no one’ll see anything except some blackened trees, and that happens when lightning strikes.”

Thinking about it, Kharl wasn’t so sure that the groom-driver wasn’t better prepared than Kharl was. Once well into the street, the envoy-mage turned the gelding downhill, then, at the next street, southward.

Demyst moved up alongside Kharl. “City’s quiet this morning. Can’t say I’d expect otherwise.”

“Everyone’s hiding and waiting.”

“What’ll we be facing?”

“Several companies of lancers, and two or three white wizards. Maybe more of either.”

“We have to do this?”

“We don’t, and our children will be fighting Hamor in Austra.” After he’d spoken, Kharl realized that he didn’t have children, not any longer, and Demyst had never had any. “Or all those who do have children will.”

“Sad choice, ser.”

“Most are,” replied Kharl dryly.

As he rode, his eyes and senses alert, Kharl felt-more than once-the brush of chaos that meant a white wizard was trying to keep track of him. From what he could tell, all the white wizards around Brysta were in the same place to the south-unless one was using chaos-skills to hide himself.

He wanted to look back and see how Jeka was doing, but decided against it although he wasn’t certain he liked that she was riding with Erdyl. Then, he had his doubts about her coming, except that her staying behind might be even worse.

Ahead, near where the side street joined the south road, a young man looked at the riders, then sprinted across the bricks and into a single-story dwelling, whose shutters were closed. For just a moment, the echo of the slammed door drowned out the clopping of hoofs.

As they neared the southeast side of Brysta, the bricks of the south street gave way to the packed clay. Each step of the gelding threw up some mud. Because few had traveled the road since the rains had begun the day before, only parts of the road were muddy, and there were but a handful of deep wagon ruts.

On the less-traveled and unpaved section of the south road beyond the city, a company of lancers would churn up the road enough to stop any wagon, and after the first two or three companies traveled it, the later riders would have great difficulty traveling with any speed, and the lower-lying sections would become, if not impassable, places where men and mounts bunched into groups making their way through slowly.

“Road’s going to be slow from here on,” observed Demyst.

“It’s only a kay or so.” Kharl studied the small plots that were neither true holdings nor just gardens that now bordered the road.

To the east of the winding road, the low hills were covered with rocky meadows, and dotted with woodlots and odd-shaped fields. Farther ahead, the road turned due south to skirt the long ridge that overlooked the new patroller barracks and camp.

Kharl held up his hand and reined up. Somewhere ahead, coming up the back side of the hill just ahead, were lancers, more than a few, but not an entire company. “Close in! Right behind me!”

Before he finished his orders, the half squad of Hamorian lancers reined up on the low rise of a field to the east of the road and less than a quarter kay south of where Kharl had halted. As he watched, they drew weapons, blades he thought, until they raised them to their shoulders. More rifles.