L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

The door closed with a muffled thud.

Beyond the orchard were fields, recently tilled. Kharl could not see anything sprouting yet, and he had no idea what crops the smallholders might grow. The sun continued to beat down, and the black-and-greenwool uniform was far warmer than Kharl had expected. He blotted the dampness from his forehead and kept riding.

He rode south almost a kay, watching as holders and their consorts and children either fled or watched him pass stolidly With each rod he rode, the huts and cots were closer and closer together, until they stood almost as close together as in Valmurl itself, with barely space for small gardens between each dwelling. At the first wider way, one rutted with the tracks of carts and wagons, he turned eastward. Ahead, he could see the taller warehouses and the cranes of the dock area. Only a few people were out and about, and they stayed well clear of the road.

Another rider, also in uniform and with a blue sash, rode toward Kharl. As he neared the mage, the younger lancer called out to Kharl, “Careful when you get to the square. Old ironbritches’bout to bust a gut.”

“Thanks. Need to watch out to the north. There’s a road patrol farther out on the pike.”

“Thanks to you.”

With a nod, Kharl passed the lancer, letting his order-senses track the man until they were several rods apart, but the man never looked back.

The nearer Kharl rode to the docking area, the quieter and emptier thestreets became. A good three blocks short of the square to the north of the dockworks proper, Kharl turned his mount southward along a side street, one lined with modest dwellings. Most were shuttered and locked. A prudent precaution, the mage reflected.

As he rode he used his order-senses to gather in impressions of chaos. A well of whiteness was centered almost due east of where he rode, and at the next corner, he turned his mount back eastward, toward the square and the northern end of the harbor-the part holding the shipworks and dry docks and the majority of the factors’ warehouses. That was where he and the crew of the Seastag had refitted the ship some two seasons before. Had it only been two seasons?

He could see lancers in green and black, with the blue sashes, riding back and forth, as if on a post set across the southern side of the square. Glancing ahead, Kharl looked for a place to tie his mount. He settled on a hitching rail outside a felter’s shop because the shop was shuttered and seemed empty. There he dismounted and began to walk toward the square.

He was now somewhat west and south of the center of the whitish fount of chaos, which he felt was less than a block to the north of where he was. At the corner of the square, where one of the other lancers glanced in his direction, Kharl turned and nodded northward, half-shrugging.

A wry expression crossed the sentry’s face. “Good luck.”

“Need it,” Kharl replied, and kept walking, past a row of three shops, a wool factor’s, a leather factor’s, and a small brassworks.

Ahead of him to his left was a three-story building-its bricks painted a faded light green. The sign hung over the large double doors read OSSAFAL AND SONS, FACTORS, and the letters were a faded dark green. Two armsmen stood before the doors.

Kharl did not wish to use any active order-skills until he was far closer to the white wizard. Before reaching the southern end of the building, as he passed the brassworks, Kharl turned left and down the narrow lane between the brassworks and larger factor’s structure. The loading dock to the brassworks was closed, and there was no doorway on the south side of the green-brick building-the structure within which was one of the white wizards.

At the end of the side lane on the north side was an enclosed yard, with a gate. The lock on the gate had already been broken. Kharl paused, letting his order-senses receive a feeling for the rear yard. It was empty,except for three mounts tethered to a beam protruding from a sagging dock that had not been used in years. The former loading dock door had been boarded shut, leaving just a smaller door to one side.

The steps up to the smaller door creaked as Kharl took them. He did not sense anyone just inside the building. Still, he opened the door and paused before stepping inside. Beyond the door was an oblong room half-filled with pallets on which bales had been roped, amphorae, crates, and a number of boxes clearly wrenched open. Scuff marks in the dust on the scarred wooded floors showed where pallets had been recently moved.

An armsman straightened up from where he’d been rummaging through one of the boxes. He frowned.

“Message for the wizard,” Kharl offered, ready to clamp shields around the other at the slightest sign of alarm.

“His mightiness the white wizard, the almighty Alborak?”

“Guess he’s the one.”

“Take the stairs in front.” There was a pause. “Why’d you come in back?”

“They said I could tie my mount out back,” Kharl explained, hoping the other did not check immediately.

“Figures.”

Kharl walked toward the only door he saw, still holding himself ready to use the shields if he needed to. Nothing happened, and he stepped into another corridor, even more dimly lit. The staircase was to his left.

While there were no guards on the lower level, a single armsman stood at the top of the steps. He had not seen Kharl, or not looked in the mage’s direction.

Kharl formed a sight shield, hoping that Alborak would not notice, and began to climb the steps, quietly, slowly, one at a time. As he climbed, he could hear voices from above him. He tried to listen as he moved.

“ … you didn’t even know he was there?”

“He was only a cooper,” said a second voice, hard and conveying arrogance. “How can he possibly know that much about order, let alone chaos?”

“I’m but an undercaptain, ser wizard,” came the reply, “but CaptainFegaro said that there was chaos-fire everywhere on that causeway, and he’s seen most everything in his years.”

Kharl moved up several more steps. He had the feeling that he would be able to get close enough to the white wizard without going all the way to the top of the ancient stairs.

“It had to be cannon fire, like in the harbor. Order-mages cannot handle chaos.”

“He said it was chaos.”

Kharl took two more steps.

“He’s not a wizard or a mage. How would he know?”

“Ser … you’d have to ask him.”

“There’s something strange-″

Kharl hardened the air around the young wizard before he could say more.

Hssst! White fire appeared from nowhere, as if it had formed in the air less than three cubits from Kharl, and flashed downward toward him.

His shields barely deflected the chaos-bolt, and he took a hard step sideways on the staircase.

“Chaos-fire!” called the guard.

“There’s a mage somewhere! Look for him!” called the undercaptain.

Another blast of chaos flared toward Kharl, if slightly weaker than the first.

Kharl struggled to maintain his barrier around the white wizard and to maintain the sight shield. He could sense the sentry moving to the top of the stairs, less than two cubits from where Kharl stood, and looking down.

“There’s no one here, ser! Just chaos-fire everywhere!”

“There’s a mage somewhere! There has to be!”

“I don′t see no one, ser!”

A third blast of chaos-fire rocked Kharl, one hurled with a desperation that Kharl could feel, but his defenses held.

“Has to be somewhere!”

Leaning in darkness against the side of the staircase, Kharl kept his shields in place. He could smell something burning farther down the staircase.

“The stairs are catching fire, ser!” called the guard.