L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

Kharl took a last swallow and finished the ale.

“How soon …?”

“I don’t know,” the mage admitted. “It could be tomorrow; it could be an eightday.” He had to think out what he was doing with his order-skills far better than he had before-and that was if he got his sight back-before the rebellion took over all of Austra.

“I’ll talk to you later,” offered Hagen. “I hope you’re up and can see before long.”

So did Kharl. He also hoped that he could offer Hagen and Ghrant much more aid than he had so far-and that he could find a way to remedy the damage he had inadvertently caused.

He sat in the bed, in his darkness, fretting over the rebellion he had sparked and pondering what lay ahead.

Oneday came and went, and twoday dawned warmer and clearer. While Kharl was up and out of bed, he still could not see, but he could employ his order-senses-sparingly-to get around. The need for deliberation in movement made him think about Jeka, although he could not have said why, and about Warrl. He did understand why he had thought about his younger son. His own lack of deliberation and understanding had been one of the reasons that had forced the boy into seeking shelter with Merayni. He couldn’t have explained why he’d thought about Jeka, but he did.

At the moment, there was little Kharl could do about either Jeka or Warrl, and if he didn’t find a way to be more effective in helping Lord Ghrant, he might never be in a position to help either of them. Yet, without seeing, he could not read The Basis of Order , and his reflections on what he had recalled seemed to spin him in circles.

Finally, when he had not heard from Hagen by late morning on twoday, he decided to make his way down to the lord-chancellor’s study. He had to wait outside for close to half a glass before the lord-chancellor was free, and, using just his order-senses, he did not recognize either of the lords who left, although he caught the names-Shachar and Harunis.

“I’m glad you’re up and around.” Those were the first words fromHagen, even before Kharl eased into the chair across the table desk from the lord-chancellor.

“I still can’t see, but the headaches are gone. What are the rebels doing?”

“Having their own problems, thankfully. According to the scouts and various rumors, Lord Hedron doesn’t trust Hensolas, and threatened to withhold supplies and support if Fergyn wasn’t given the right of summary refusal on any of Hensolas’s plans. That might gain us another few days.”

“How long before the first companies of Casolan’s forces near Valmurl?”

“I don’t know. I sent word to him. I ordered him to take a different route. I left it up to him as to what route it should be since I cannot be certain that any choice I made might not be passed to Hensolas or Fergyn.” Hagen cleared his throat. “I also got a messenger from him, and the report that he crushed a company of rebels under Azeolis. He’s very cautious, though. He didn’t pursue, because he had reports that Azeolis had five more companies.”

“That would make sense to me,” Kharl replied. “Lord Ghrant needs those forces here more than he needs to defeat five companies away from Valmurl.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Is that not so … or is there something I don’t know?” He almost had said “don’t see.”

“No. With the disunity among the rebels, Casolan’s companies may be enough to stop their attacks.” Hagen laughed ironically. “Now … if only you could find a way to remove them from the dockworks and warehouse areas.”

“Order doesn’t seem to work that way.” Kharl paused before adding, “Not for most mages, anyway, and the ones who can do more with it haven’t shared how they did.”

“I’ve heard that,” replied Hagen. “One of the traders out of Recluce said that just two mages destroyed Fairven, and only one returned, and he never spoke a word about it.” Hagen shook his head. “I was younger then, and I asked why the rulers of Recluce, their council or whatever it is, hadn’t forced him to tell them. The trader gave me this funny look, and then he asked me exactly how I would propose to force that from a mage who had destroyed an empire.” Hagen’s chuckle was anything but humorous. “Take you, Kharl. Someone might be able to take you off guard and kill you, but could anyone force you to tell them how you do what you do?”

“No.” Kharl didn’t explain that was because so much of what he did was through order-senses, and that the directions would have been meaningless to anyone without that ability.

“That’s the problem with wizards and mages. They can only be controlled by other mages or wizards-or by their own beliefs. That bothers lords. They don’t like to deal with powers they can’t control.”

“That’s why Lord Ghrant prefers to have you deal with me?”

“Of course.” Hagen laughed, once, brusquely “That way, if anything goes wrong, it was my fault.”

Kharl waited to see if Hagen would say more.

“Ghrant’s basically honest,” the lord-chancellor went on. “Weak about some things, but honest. Your presence doesn’t bother him, except that he’d rather have me give orders. Vatoran and Guillam, though, you made them uncomfortable just by being around. Do you feel that way around the white wizards?”

Kharl frowned. “I can feel them. Don’t know as they make me uncomfortable.” He paused and reconsidered his words. “I don’t know as I’d be comfortable around chaos all the time.”

“That makes sense. I’d wager they’d not be comfortable around you, either.” Hagen stood. “I need to go and see Norgen.”

After a moment, Kharl stood, belatedly realizing that the lord-chancellor had many demands upon him, and Kharl was in no position to help with those demands-not at the moment, not until he recovered. “I’ll try to see if I can discover some other way to help.” He stepped around the chair, deliberately.

“That would be useful.”

Kharl appreciated the understatement. Hagen and Lord Ghrant needed something that was more than merely useful.

After leaving the lord-chancellor, Kharl walked slowly back up the steps to the upper level, past his own quarters, and toward the north tower. He took the stone steps carefully, one at a time. Once he was out in the late-morning air, he crossed the tower to the east side.

There, he leaned forward, his forearms on the parapet stones, with the spring sun warming him and the breeze in his face. For a time, he faced eastward, in the direction of the city and the harbor he could not see, thinking.

What could he do? Unbinding order to release chaos was definitely a bad idea-except as the sort of last resort when he might be killed if he didn’t. A chaos-wizard could spray free chaos everywhere, and it couldwound or kill. Doing the same with order would only strengthen things. It might help people who were ill. As Hagen had pointed out, order did seem to make people who were chaos-driven uncomfortable, but Kharl didn’t see that as terribly useful in a battle. From what he’d been able to do so far, his only effective use of order seemed to be to use it to kill Ghrant’s enemies through confinement, and he could only do that to one or two people at a time. Still … if he removed enough of the rebel lords …

He shrugged. He couldn’t do anything until he recovered more.

By threeday, Kharl could see-intermittently. His vision came and went unpredictably. At least, he could not discern the reasons for its presence or absence, although he had no doubt that his ability to see was affected by some deeper interrelation between order and chaos. In time, he suspected, he would understand, and wonder why he had not seen sooner. That seemed to be his lot in life, to understand, imperfectly and late.