L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“To better days.”

They both ate silently for a time. Kharl found the veal far better than he had remembered it, but he suspected that his memory had been accurate, and that the preparation at the Great House was far better.

Hagen broke off a chunk of the brown bread. “You’ll have to leave within a few days, as soon as the Seastag is loaded. She ported yesterday. She was on a short-leg voyage to Nylan, Lydiar, Renklaar, and Worrak.”

“How else do you think I should prepare? Is there anything else I should know? Can I tell Erdyl?”

“You can tell young Erdyl. He has said nothing to anyone, except that he is learning what he can at the Great House. There is little else that we can provide, except that Lord Ghrant will have to proclaim you as an envoy. That will be as late as possible, the day before you depart on the Seastag. But you cannot be recognized as an envoy without the audience and proclamation. It will be a short ceremony.” Hagen added, “There is one other thing. I shouldn’t have to tell you, but we all overlook things. The Hamorians will not wish you in Brysta. I would not put it past them to attempt some action against you.”

“How would they find out if the ceremony is just before I leave?”

“We have spies in Swartheld, and they have spies here. Most spies know that it is difficult to kill a mage who is forewarned or alert. I would doubt that you will have much difficulty in such a fashion, but … many spies are good at indirection. I know you can detect poison … but that ability does little good if you do not realize that even food prepared by close friends can be poisoned without their knowing it. Crossbow bolts kill if you do not see them coming. Even cliffs have been toppled on mages, I’ve been told.” Hagen shook his head.

“Are you trying to tell me not to go to Brysta?”

“No. I want you to come back … And one last thing, Kharl. About that beard …”

“I know. It would be foolish to go to Brysta looking the way I once did.”

“You might also want people here to see what you look like without it, before the audience.”

“Do you want me to shave it off tonight?” Kharl asked. “Would that be soon enough?”

“No,” parried the lord-chancellor, “tomorrow morning would be most suitable.”

They both burst into laughter.

So hot was the midsummer morning, even before the second glass after dawn, that Kharl was blotting his forehead even before he dismounted outside the Hall of Justice and handed the gelding’s reins to Dorfal. He had to admit that on days so warm, he didn’t miss having a beard. Winter might be another story.

“I’ll just be waiting, ser,” offered the young lancer.

“Thank you.” The day was to be his last with Jusof, and it would be short, since Kharl’s audience with Lord Ghrant was set for the glass before noon.

Kharl walked through the double doors into the cooler main foyer and headed up the narrow stairs to the upper level.

Jusof rose as Kharl entered. “Good morning, Lord Kharl.”

“Good morning,” returned the mage. “It’s hot out.”

“It will be warm in here as well by afternoon.” Jusof nodded. “Congratulations on your appointment to Brysta as the envoy. We received the proclamation for posting just half a glass ago, not that we had not heard in secrecy several days ago.” The clerk smiled. “The lord-chancellor’s motives in having you study law are most clear. ”

“I think I know just enough to be wary of any laws and those who administer them,” Kharl replied. “Especially when they are not of such honesty as Lord Justicer Priost.”

“That is wise, even for advocates,” said Jusof. “Still, you know morethan you allow yourself credit for. You seem to have mastered the basics of jurisprudence, the very basics, but many who call themselves advocates often know less.”

After almost four eightdays, Kharl hoped he had learned something, but doubted that he had learned much more than to apply what he had already known to the law.

“There is little point in your studying more unless you plan to become an advocate.” Jusof smiled. “You must indulge me if I point out that such seems most unlikely. You have a talent for the law, but I cannot see Lord Ghrant-or your own talents-restricting you to the Hall of Justice.”

The mage nodded.

Jusof handed Kharl two elaborately sealed letters. “The lord-chancellor had requested that the lord justicer and I both draft and sign these letters commending you as a scholar of the legal system to whatever clerks and justicers you may need to approach in Nordla or elsewhere. Lord Justicer Priost was most impressed with your brief on the Lendyl case. It might have used some more polish, but the logic and the precedents were sound. He did say that you might well be wasted as a mage.” Jusof laughed softly.

“But … I’ve never met the lord justicer,” Kharl observed, slipping the letters into a jacket pocket.

“That is true, and that is as it should be. Were the Lord’s mage ever to have met with the lord justicer, many would think that Lord Ghrant might be pressing for something in the Hall of Justice. Lord Justicer Priost has not met with Lord Ghrant, except at very public dinners at the Great House, or at his blind briefings of Lord Ghrant, since he became lord justicer.” Jusof cleared his throat. “That does not mean, in regard to you, Lord Kharl, that he has not been apprised of all you have done, and he was most impressed with your diligence, as well as your understanding.”

“I’ll accept the diligence,” Kharl replied. “I hope the understanding will come.”

“As I am most certain you know,” Jusof said with a dryness just short of the pedantic, “understanding is the virtue most often claimed and least often exhibited. Since you have already shown it elsewhere, I have no doubts it will surface in the law as well.” He smiled once more. “I will not keep you, Lord Kharl, but it has truly been a pleasure to work with you.”

“Thank you.” Kharl inclined his head. “You have been most understanding.”

After taking his leave of the chief clerk and heading back down to the main level, Kharl was still mulling over his surprise that Jusof had been pleased to work with him.

Even after such a short time, the square was even hotter than when he had entered the Hall of Justice, and he was once more blotting his forehead as he and Dorfal rode back toward the Great House.

“You’ll not be coming here any longer, ser?” asked the lancer.

“No. Today was the last day.”

“Will you be heading back to your lands, then, ser?”

“That is up to the lord-chancellor and Lord Ghrant.” Kharl felt uncomfortable with the answer, true as it was, because it was misleading, but he also did not wish to announce what he would be doing on the open streets of Valmurl.

“Yes, ser.”

“Are you going to stay a lancer?” Kharl asked.

“I don’t know, ser. I’ve another two years. Then, I have to decide whether to go for five or leave.” Dorfal laughed. “Undercaptain Demyst was saying that I ought to stay on. Told me that fighting like we been through only comes every double handful of years, and that I ought to take the easy years that follow.”

“Do you want to go back to crabbing?”

“Not really, ser. Don’t know as I see myself as a lancer for years either, though.”

Kharl smiled faintly. He’d never thought about it at Dorfal’s age. He’d just assumed he would be a cooper. Then, that might have been because he’d liked being a cooper, liked the smell and feel of the wood, and the sense of having done something right when a barrel or keg or hogshead had been finished. He didn’t presume to offer Dorfal advice. “I’m sure that when the time comes you’ll do fine.”