L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“Do you think we should leave immediately?”

“I would judge that dawn tomorrow would be adequate. The rain may have abated by then.”

“Dawn tomorrow,” Kharl affirmed.

“Will one squad be enough to accompany you?” asked Hagen. “I propose assigning Undercaptain Demyst once more. He seems suited to such duty.″

Kharl thought he understood that message as well. The undercaptain wasn′t that good in combat and needed direction. Or he had some otherfault. “One squad and Undercaptain Demyst. We will deal with the wizard and keep him and Lord Hensolas from interfering with Commander Casolan′s forces.” He just hoped he wasn′t promising more than he could accomplish.

“I can count on you, Kharl. I wish there were more about whom I could say that.” Hagen offered a wan smile. He coughed several times. “Chaos-fired throat.”

“You’ll be better.”

“I’m sure I will be, especially once this rain ends.” Hagen stood. “I need to get ready to discuss some matters with Commander Norgen.”

Kharl rose. “I’ll need to prepare a few things myself.”

Once he was outside Hagen’s study, Kharl walked deliberately toward the staircase to the upper levels and his own quarters. He was being given leave-quietly-to carry out what he had proposed. Could he do it?

The clouds that had brought eightday’s rain had lifted, but not vanished, by dawn on oneday, and the air was warm and damp, enough so that even without direct sunlight Kharl was sweating in the green-and-black uniform by the time he had ridden less than a glass southward. The white wizard had left the spot where he had been, nearly due south of Valmurl, and appeared to be moving westward, generally toward the Southwest Branch, the stream that fed the Lord’s Millrace before joining the River Val.

From the maps Kharl had studied and from what Hagen had said, the wizard could be accompanying rebel troops heading to join battle against Casolan’s forces or riding westward to destroy the millrace and dam. Kharl doubted that a Hamorian wizard would want to destroy something that produced golds-especially not as a first resort-but he had been wrong before in his judgments, often enough that he wasn’t about to discard either possibility.

“Warm, it is, for such a cloudy day,″ offered Undercaptain Demyst. The stocky and square-faced man had been blotting his forehead even more often than Kharl.

“It’s likely to get even warmer once the clouds clear.” Kharl paused. “How much longer before we reach the River Val?” To reach the Southwest Branch and the Lord’s Millrace, Kharl and the lancers accompanying him had to cross the River Val first. Then they would turn east if they wished to reach the Southwest Branch, or westward on the south river road if it appeared that the wizard’s forces were heading out to intercept Casolan’s advance force.

“Less than a glass, ser. Less than a glass. The scouts say that the way is clear. No rebel lancers, leastwise. Not this side of the river.”

Kharl nodded and concentrated on riding, and in taking in the countryside west of Valmurl. For at least a score of kays to the west of where they rode, the land stretched out in a nearly flat valley that extended a good eighty kays to the south of the River Val and slightly less than forty to the north. In places, there were low hills, but none rose more than a few rods above the road. Fields, recently tilled, and meadows were everywhere, with cots set at almost regular intervals. While he could see both men and women working in more distant fields, the peasants or smallholders of those lands closest to the road were wisely remaining out of sight.

To the northwest, when he looked back over his shoulder, Kharl could make out the distant hills, and a few snowcapped peaks behind them. He could see nothing but fields and meadows ahead of them-and a line of trees several kays to the south. The trees, he suspected, marked the River Val. While there were some woodlots on the holdings, and a few orchards, most of the land was marked out in squarish fields set aside for crops, and there were almost no hedgerows at all. Those appeared to have been created only in the north and west of Valmurl.

“Why aren’t there any hedgerows here?” he asked the undercaptain.

“Lord Esthaven forbid them here in the valley proper. Said that they gave holders airs. Had to kill a few before they got the idea.”

The more Kharl heard about Esthaven, the less he liked what he heard. “What do they grow here?”

“Maize and oats, mostly, besides gardens. Everyone has a garden. There’s wheat corn south of the river. Doesn’t do as well here on the north side. No one knows why. Around the river, where it’s wet, there’s sorghum. Best molasses in the world here, and that’s why there’s none better than Austran black bread.”

Kharl had enjoyed the dark bread, but hadn′t connected it to the quality of molasses in Austra-although that made sense. With a faint smile atthe thought, and the realization that there was much he had never questioned, he shifted his weight in the saddle. He still wasn’t that used to riding, and the saddle got hard after a while. Awkwardly, he stood in the stirrups, trying to stretch his legs and give his backside a respite. He glanced ahead, hoping that the river wasn’t that far ahead.

“Really won’t be that far, ser,” offered Demyst.

“I’m not a lancer,” Kharl said dryly. “Riding is harder on me than coopering all day.”

“You’ll get used to it, ser.”

Kharl wasn’t certain he wanted to get that used to riding. As he struggled to make himself comfortable in the saddle, he sensed something. Except that wasn’t it. He tilted his head, trying to focus on what he’d felt. Then he realized that for the past quarter glass or so, as he had ridden southward toward the river, he had lost the distant sense of the white wizard-just as if the wizard had vanished.

“Chaos …″ he muttered under his breath. He’d been so preoccupied with his own discomfort that he hadn’t even realized when he’d lost the sense of the other wizard. He tried to gather in a sense of that chaos, but he could feel absolutely nothing.

Had the wizard gone into a cave or something? Or behind a waterfall? That might provide a shield of some sort. Or had he created his own shield?

“Ser? Something wrong?”

“Not yet,” Kharl replied. Now he’d have to be more alert than ever, and especially after they crossed the River Val.

Almost half a glass passed before they neared the river. During that time, they had seen no one nearby on the road, although one cart and another wagon had turned down side lanes to avoid the lancers. While Kharl had gotten a quick impression of faint traces of chaos several times, the traces had vanished so quickly that he only knew that the wizard was somewhere to the south. Were the rebels moving farther south and trying to circle behind Casolan’s forces? Or were they already west of the bridge and heading out to attack Casolan? Kharl couldn’t be certain, and that worried him.

It was most likely that the wizard had some sort of shield and did not want Kharl to track him easily. But why now? Had he just discovered that Kharl was near?

Kharl blotted his forehead. The clouds had thinned, and at times, fainthazy sunlight had oozed over the riders. The day had continued to warm, and the heavy armsman’s uniform had gotten less and less comfortable.

Kharl took in the raised earthen causeway that led to the bridge itself, then the river that stretched away from the bridge. The River Val wound in wide, sweeping arcs, its course meandering through the river plain, its banks clearly marked by earthen levees and trees planted behind the levees. The bridge itself was an old and heavy timber structure that was supported by three stone piers evenly spaced across the riverbed. The roadway was broad enough for a large wagon or three horses abreast, and the side rails were weathered heavy timbers. The watercourse itself was perhaps ten rods wide under the bridge. The plank roadbed was worn, and in places, as he crossed, Kharl could see the swirling gray of the water below through gaps in the planking. While the bridge creaked slightly as the squad rode across the spans, he could feel no swaying or give, but he was glad to reach the causeway on the south side.