L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

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.

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 envoy-mage-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 took 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 Alynar, 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.”