L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

The afternoon before, Kharl and three companies under the command of Majer Ghenal had moved to the northeast of the Great House, settling into the estate of one Buvert, a sympathizer of the late Lord Malcor. Buvert’s consort had fled, along with the staff and children. Once there, the three companies had begun visible preparations for an attack upon the dockyards, still held by forces commanded by Lord Fergyn. Hagen had told Majer Ghenal that the majer was not to attack under any circumstances, that the maneuver was designed to make sure that Fergyn and Hensolas did not unite their forces-not until Casolan arrived with reinforcements, at least.

Kharl and Undercaptain Demyst’s two squads were riding due east, conducting a reconnaissance in force. Those were the orders that Hagen had given the undercaptain, along with the observation that, as necessary, Kharl might undertake his own reconnaissance efforts independently at any time.

The hoofs of the two squads created a muted thunderlike sound as they struck the heavy planks set in clay that formed the hard surface of the Cross-Stream Pike.

“Are there many roads like this?” asked Kharl. He’d heard of timbered pikes, but never run across one.

“This used to be a true pike, maybe a hundred years back, and the only way to get to the part of Valmurl north of the dockworks in times of rain.” Demyst laughed. “Story is that the shamblers burned Lord Lysaran’s stables one night, and the barns an eightday later in protest of the fees. Lord Esthaven stripped Lysaran of his lands and gave him an eightday to leave Austra. Said that anyone who couldn’t control rabble didn’t deserve lands.”

“A hard lord, it sounds like. Wasn’t Esthaven the one who built the harbor causeway?”

“He was hard, but he did much for Austra. He united east and west …”

“I thought that was Isthel-”

Demyst shook his head. “Isthel was his grandsire. Isthel conquered the west, but Esthaven was the one who united Austra. He gave the new western lords the same privileges as those in the east and abolished the special tariffs laid on the west. He even set up schools in Bruel and along the west coast.”

Kharl wondered if he’d ever understand Austra. But then, he hadn’t really understood Nordla, and he’d been born and raised in Brysta.

“There! One of their scouts.”

Kharl glanced ahead, toward the southeast, following the undercaptain′s gesture. A rider in green and black, wearing the blue sash of the rebel forces, galloped southward along a narrow lane that ran between two ragged hedgerows for half a kay, before the ancient hedgerows ended at a welter of ramshackle wooden structures. A handful of people in the middle of the lane scattered just before the lancer bore down on them.

“That’s Tinkertown,” offered the undercaptain. “All the peddlers and tinkers, and the men who offer their backs for a day’s work at the dockyards-most of’em come from there.”

“And the land used to belong to Lord Lysaran?” Kharl’s tone was dry.

“So they say.” After a moment, Demyst added, “Scout’s riding hard. He’ll be turning at the crossroads there, come back onto the pike, and make for the northern corner of the dockworks.”

Reportedly, Lord Fergyn had made one of the old factor’s warehouses, one with living quarters above and behind it, into his temporary headquarters.

“You think they’ll move against us today?” asked Kharl.

“I don’t see how. That’s the only scout we’ve seen. They weren’t expecting us to move before Commander Casolan reached Valmurl.”

“We might as well keep riding and see how close we can get.”

“Not too close to their wizards, if you please, ser Kharl.”

That was exactly what Kharl wanted-or at least to discover where they were-but he couldn’t admit that. So he nodded, and said, “We don’t want to lose any men to wizardry.”

“No, ser.”

At the moment, Kharl was using no active order-magery at all. From what he had observed so far, the white mages had trouble pinpointing order-users unless the black mages were actively engaged in some sort of magery. Certainly, it was far harder for Kharl to determine the exact location of a white wizard if the wizard wasn’t using chaos. Given the distances involved, Kharl had decided that he would continue on horseback toward the dockworks. He had a bright blue sash tucked inside his tunic. Once he separated from Demyst and the two squads, he hoped that the uniform and the sash would suffice as a disguise until he got close enoughto need to use his sight shield. He’d tried the shield with the mount before leaving Buvert’s estate. The gelding hadn’t bucked or tried to throw Kharl, but he had come to a stop, and Kharl had only been able to coax him along at a slow walk. Kharl thought that, if necessary, he could dismount and lead the gelding. He’d seen horses blindfolded and led, but he didn’t want to have to walk too far. Not after his last use of magery in rebel-held territory.

As he rode, Kharl took in the land around him, looking for lanes leading off the pike to the south that might curve eastward or intersect other smaller roads or lanes. He didn’t recall taking the pike when he had sought out Lyras, and that meant that there were other ways to the dockworks than the route they were taking.

He was also trying to sense where the white wizards were. He’d felt nothing immediately after leaving Buvert’s estate, but as they left Tinker-town behind and neared the outskirts of Valmurl, he could sense two separate areas of chaos-presumably the two white wizards. One was less than two kays from where he rode, closer to the dockworks. The other-and stronger-influence was somewhere to the south of Valmurl. To Kharl, that meant that the stronger white wizard was with Lord Hensolas, and the weaker with Fergyn’s forces.

Ahead of them, the pike began to descend slightly into a lower meadow area between two stone walls. The grass showed the lighter green of spring. At the crest of a gentle rise some sixty rods farther along the pike to the southeast, scarcely more than half a kay away, a low wall of greenery lay across the road.

“They’ve blocked the pike,” said Demyst. “Felled firs or something and dragged them into place.”

Kharl studied the makeshift barrier, catching sight of men behind the ragged green barrier. “They’ve got armsmen there.”

“We need to pull up. If they have cannon and rifles, we’ll be too exposed on the downslope ahead.” Demyst turned in the saddle, raising his right arm. “Squads halt! To the rear, ride!”

As they turned back the way they had come, Kharl studied the area to the south of the pike even more closely. Ahead, he saw a narrow way, wider than a path, but barely a lane, that bordered an ill-tended pearapple orchard.

“It’s time for me to head off,” Kharl said. “I need to look into this more closely. Can you have a squad stand by for me, starting in two glasses?”

“Ah … ser … where did you have in mind?”

“Nowhere close to the rebel forces. What about where the lane from Tinkertown leaves the pike?”

Demyst nodded. “That’d not be a problem, not unless they attack, and I don’t see that happening.”

“If they do, I’m on my own.”

“You say two glasses, ser?”

“Probably be closer to three,” Kharl admitted.

“We’ll be there, ser.”

With a nod to Demyst, Kharl turned his mount off the pike and onto the lane that led past the pearapple orchard. He did not hear a word from the lancers, even using his order-senses. Once he was well away from the lancers, he extracted the blue sash from his tunic and smoothed it in place across his chest. As he neared the southern end of the orchard, he saw a cot and a small barn to his right. A woman with a babe in her arms turned, then rushed back to the cot.