L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

Holyt bowed his head. “Thank you, ser.” He looked up with a crooked smile. “We just might not want to try to collect from Lord West.”

Kharl walked slowly to the carriage, without turning back. He could still sense the death and the ruins across the harbor behind him.

On threeday night, Kharl had managed to remain alert on the return to the residence, but he had barely managed to undress and climb into bed before succumbing to exhaustion and order-weariness. He slept late the next morning, but still could not see when he finally rose, bathed, shaved, and dressed.

After breakfast, taken alone because the others had already eaten, Kharl sat in the chair behind the library desk, a beaker of lager on the wood before him. He picked it up and took another sip before setting it down carefully.

He had not unlinked nearly so much order, or released as much chaos as he had in the battle south of Brysta. Was his present blindness because he had not fully recovered when he had dealt with the forts?

Thrap.

“You can come in, Jeka,” he called.

“Scary,” she said, settling into the chair across the desk from him. “You not being able to see and still knowing.”

“It’s scary not being able to see.”

“You’ll get better.”

Kharl shrugged. “Hope so. Lyras told me that Creslin couldn’t see most of his later life.”

“Lyras? Creslin? Who are they?”

“Creslin was the weather mage who founded Reduce. Lyras is a mage in Austra. You’ll probably meet him.”

“Me? Not likely.”

“You’d agreed that you would come to Cantyl,” Kharl said. “Even with Egen and Vielam dead, it’s not all that safe for you here.”

“Safe enough.”

There was something in Jeka’s voice, and Kharl wished that he could see the expression on her face. Demons! He wanted to see her face again. He swallowed.

He would. It would just take time, he told himself.

After a moment, he spoke. “It’s not safe enough. You … I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Be fine.”

Kharl took a long, slow breath. Demyst’s words from the night before came back to him. “ … You’d walk though chaos to save a friend, but you’d find it hard to tell him he was your friend.”

“Jeka …”

“I’m here.”

As she spoke, he realized one other thing. He would always be who he was, at heart, and Jeka knew who that man was. The young ladies like Meyena never would know, never would understand. He swallowed once more, before speaking. “I … want you to come to Cantyl. I don’t want to leave you here.”

“Told you. Can’t come like that. Won’t be a plaything. Rather take my chances here.”

“I’m not asking you to come as a plaything. I’m asking you to come to see if you like Cantyl well enough to be my consort.”

For a long moment, there was silence.

“Don’t need to come to Cantyl for that.”

Kharl shook his head. “I … we can’t stay here. I’d have to spend every moment worrying about what Osten was trying to do next.”

Jeka laughed, the melodic laugh that he had heard so seldom and loved so much. “Wasn’t what I was saying. Be your consort anywhere. I don’t need to see Cantyl. Doesn’t matter whether you’ve got more lands or less. Matters that you want me.”

Kharl swallowed again, not unhappily. “You mean that?”

Another warm and rich laugh answered his words. “You saved me. Two, three times. You did everything you could for me. You came back, partly for me, ran to find me when you thought Egen might be after me. You’re handsome. You’re good. Used to watch you, you know? Would have been a cooper’s consort.” There was a pause. “You sure?”

“Very sure.” Kharl didn’t even hesitate.

Before he could take another breath, she was beside him, her arms around him.

For the moment, and those that followed, Kharl did not worry about blindness, or anything else.

Kharl, Jeka, Erdyl, and Demyst sat in the library. Jeka perched on a stool beside Kharl’s desk chair. He couldn’t help but keep looking at her. He had persuaded her to have some new outfits made-still trousers and shirts. She wore dark green trousers and a matching shirt, with a lighter green leather vest, not quite so shapeless as those she had worn before, but not form-clinging either. She also still bore the pair of belt knives, not to mention the hidden blade.

“ … someone had to have been waiting at the rendering yard, Sharlak said,” Demyst finished.

“One of Egen’s people.” Kharl shook his head. With everything that had happened, it had taken days before he’d been able to send someone out to check on Werwal-and as in the case of Warrl, even if he’d sent someone the next day, it would have been too late. He’d warned Werwal’s consort, but he should have waited and taken Werwal straight to the residence. Another case where he hadn’t quite finished the task at hand, and another one of those who had supported him had died.

“You can’t do everything, ser,” offered Erdyl.

Somehow, those words didn’t reassure Kharl very much.

“You two going to have an official ceremony?” asked Demyst quickly.

“As soon as we get to Valmurl,” Kharl said.

“Consorted now,” replied Jeka. “He never breaks his word.” She looked sideways at Kharl with a grin.

“That shouldn’t be that long, then. When will the Seastag be ready to leave?” asked Erdyl, shifting his weight in the chair to avoid banging the edge of the side table with his injured arm, still in a sling.

Kharl had tried to use order to speed the healing. He’d definitely keptany wound chaos from forming, and probably his efforts would result in Erdyl’s earlier recovery, but it was clear that he was no healer.

“She just ported two glasses or so ago,” said Kharl. “Why do you think we’re leaving? Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m not so sure I did very well, ser.” Erdyl glanced down at his injured arm.

“I wouldn’t be in that much of a hurry.” Kharl smiled.

So did Jeka, from beside him, knowing what was coming.

“We aren’t going back to Austra, ser?” Erdyl’s face fell. “I saw you and Jeka packing.”

“Oh, we are.” Kharl drew out the words. “You aren’t.”

“Ser? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.” The mage grinned at the younger man. “That’s why you’re staying. Lord West-the new Lord West-has requested that I return to Austra. I insisted that Lord Ghrant needed to keep someone here, at least an assistant envoy. You get to be that assistant envoy. Either Lord Ghrant confirms you as envoy or he doesn’t, but either way, it’s a better position, and you’ll get to be in charge here-at least as much as Undercaptain Demyst and Khelaya let you.”

“I worry about Lord West,” Erdyl said.

“Don’t worry too much,” Kharl said. “He knows that, if anything happens to you, I’ll be back. He’d much rather have you as an envoy.”

“Me … I don’t know …”

“You will do much better with the functions, and being polite. You understand that. Every time I had to meet with them, I spent glasses learning just a handful of the proper phrases,” Kharl pointed out.

“When will you leave?”

“Tonight. There’s not that much cargo to onload, and Furwyl really just returned this way to check on us before heading back to Valmurl. Lord Hagen had ordered him to.”

“Thoughtful of him,” said Demyst dryly.

“He does worry. Occasionally.” Kharl turned back to Erdyl. “Besides, you can send a letter to your sire. You can sign and seal it as the envoy in charge in Brysta.”