L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

He frowned. That was not quite right. His eyes seemed to dart away, to avoid one spot on the road. So the white wizard had something like a sight shield as well? Kharl had thought that had to be the case. Otherwise, how else had they managed to get close enough to kill the armsmen guarding Vatoran?

He tried to judge the distance, but he wasn’t that familiar with Valmurl. The white wizard was more than a kay away, closer to two. As Kharl watched and sensed, occasionally, he thought he saw a puff of dust, but that could have been his imagination.

At the sound of boots on the stones of the tower, he turned.

“A white wizard headed this way?” Hagen, wearing a black jacket trimmed in green, walked toward Kharl.

The mage waited until Hagen was almost beside him. “There … out on the north road, I’d say half a kay beyond where the avenue ends.”

Hagen leaned forward. “I don’t see anything.”

“He has a sight shield. Your eyes feel like they’re moving away from the road.”

Hagen blinked several times. “Hmmm … I feel something, but I still don’t see anything. How big a force does he have with him?”

“It’s hard to tell. It’s less than a company, I think. This wizard feels stronger than the one that attacked Charsal. He might be the one that Kenslan mentioned.”

“Or another one from Hamor.”

Kharl didn’t like that possibility at all.

“What can you do about him?” asked Hagen.

“To do much of anything, I’d have to get close to him.”

“It would be better if you didn’t,” Hagen said. “They have two mages. They may have more.” The lord-chancellor frowned. “Will you be able to see exactly where this white wizard is when he gets closer to the Great House?”

“Not exactly see,” Kharl admitted. “I’ll know where he is.”

“Can you describe it? Well enough so that crossbowmen can aim a quarrel?”

“I could. What about rifles-No. I suppose he could set off the powder.”

“That’s why no one uses rifles against white wizards, and why cannon are used sparingly and set apart. Except on iron-hulled warships.” Hagen’s voice turned dry. “It’s also why there are never very many experienced artillerymen. Even without mages around, it’s still possible for free chaos to set off the powder.”

Kharl used his order-senses to study the approaching wizard. “I’d say two squads are with him. That’s a guess, though.”

“We could put a half score of crossbowmen in the gate towers with you, and we could have others wind and cock.”

“We can try. If he heads for the main gates. If he doesn’t … then I can always try something else,” Kharl admitted.

“We’d better get moving,” Hagen said.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re still sore, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Kharl was more than sore, but what was the point of admitting it? It had been his own carelessness, and he still had to do something about the white wizards, whether he was hurt or not. “I’ll be there.”

Hagen nodded, hurried across the top of the tower, and vanished through the door in the archway. He left the door ajar in his haste.

Kharl followed, not quite so swiftly, descending the steep steps with care, since there were no railings, and the centers of the stone treads had been hollowed out by years of usage.

The corridors of the Great House seemed empty, even emptier than he might have expected nearing end-day. Was that because people were slipping away, afraid that the rebel lords would overthrow Lord Ghrant?

Kharl made his way down to the main level, then out across the front courtyard. As he crossed the stone-paved expanse, a half squad of armsmen in yellow and black bearing crossbows hurried past him. By the time Kharl reached the gate tower, its lower entrance was guarded by two armsmen in yellow and back.

“The lord-chancellor is waiting topside for you, ser mage.”

“You a former sailor?”

“Yes, ser.”

“I know I’ll be in good hands, then.” Kharl smiled and stepped through the narrow doorway. The stone steps up the gate tower were even narrower and steeper than the north tower, although the gate tower itself only rose some thirty cubits above the courtyard and the avenue it overlooked.

The small room at the top of the stairs held four armsmen serving as loaders. Kharl saw that they had more than ten crossbows set out, ready to wind and cock. He nodded as he eased past them in the crowded space and out onto the semicircular battlement overlooking the avenue.

Standing behind the center merlon, Kharl began to search for the rebel wizard, with both order-senses and eyes.

Directly across the avenue from the gate towers was the Lord’s Park-almost a garden with topiary and grass and stone paths. Around the park were the town dwellings of various lords and wealthy merchants and factors, none over two stories, by decree. Kharl studied the avenue to the north. While someone might have expected so little traffic just after dawn on eightday-that there were so few out on sevenday, usually a market day, was disturbing. He could see a servant hanging out wash in the side courtof a modest dwelling across the avenue and perhaps thirty rods to the northeast, and a doorman standing on the porch of a dwelling even farther north, but no riders or carriages were visible on the avenue-not to the eye. After a moment, Kharl could sense the wizard and the riders who accompanied him, now on the avenue itself, and less than a kay away.

“They’re about three quarters of a kay to the north,” he said, before Hagen could ask him. “They’re moving at a quick walk.”

“A quarter glass before they’re in range,” Hagen announced. “I’ve had all the other guards stationed behind stone and out of sight.”

Kharl should have thought of that. Stone was about the only thing, besides thick and heavy iron or an order shield, that could stop a large firebolt.

Silently, Kharl and Hagen watched the avenue.

Kharl concentrated for a moment, just briefly, on throwing up a weaker shield, one that partly hardened the air but was coated with a thin layer of order to deflect something like a firebolt. He dropped it instantly, but he had wanted to make sure that he was ready.

“I don’t see any signs of them, not even any dust off the stones,” Hagen said, after a time. “Shouldn’t they be fairly close by now?”

“No sound, either …” murmured an armsman behind them.

Kharl frowned. “They’ve split. The riders are headed down a lane to the east.”

“There they are! On the lane north of the Lord’s Park,” called one of the armsmen.

“They’re headed toward Lord Lahoryn’s dwelling,” murmured Hagen. “Right in the open.” He turned. “Theragon! Get a squad over to Lord Lahoryn’s dwelling! Now!”

“Yes, ser!” came back a call from lower in the tower.

“Close the main gates behind our squad!” Hagen glanced at Kharl. “The rebels will ride off, but it will stop the destruction.”

Even as he spoke, the riders fired several times. After a moment, one of the riders dismounted and opened the iron gates to the courtyard in front of the mansion.

Why were they attacking a supporter of Lord Ghrant, and so close to the Great House? With the others, Kharl watched. Then he shook his head. Where was the white wizard? Outside of a vague feeling that the wizard was somewhere north of the Great House, he could not pin down where the other was.

“Kharl?” asked Hagen.

“The white wizard … he’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared? Where?”

“I can’t tell.”

“A diversion! Do you have any idea where he was?” demanded Hagen.

“To the north … somewhere.”

“The bailey gate-that has to be it. We need to get there before he does.” The lord-chancellor whirled and headed for the stairs. After a moment, Kharl followed, trying to ignore his various aches.