L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

Dorfal smiled uneasily.

When they reached the Great House, Kharl dismounted in the front entry and let the young lancer take the mounts. He made his way to his quarters, where he washed up again and changed into his newest magely finery, garb that had been paid for by Lord Ghrant, along with five other sets of clothing deemed suitable for an envoy.

Then he made his way down to the hallway outside the main audience hall, where Hagen found him.

“You look most impressive, Lord Kharl,” offered the lord-chancellor.

Kharl felt more like a traitor bird dressed in the plumage of a raven. “I’m not certain I’ll ever get used to wearing end-day finery all the time.”

“It looks good on you.” Hagen’s smile dropped away. “The ceremony will be very short. Afterward, there will be a midday dinner with Lord Ghrant, Lady Hyrietta, and a few others.”

“You didn’t mention that.”

An impish smile crossed Hagen’s face. “I didn’t? It must have slipped my mind.”

Kharl shook his head. “If Glyan’s experiments with the new wine barrels don’t work, I’ll send a half barrel to you.”

Hagen laughed softly. “I need to go so that I can be on the dais before Ghrant enters.” With a nod, he slipped away.

Kharl stood in the side hallway, away from the audience hall doors, where he could not see who entered the hall nor be seen by them, for another quarter glass.

“Lord Kharl, ser … you’ve been summoned,” called one of the armsmen in the yellow and black of the personal guard.

Kharl walked around the corner and toward the doors. When he was in place, one of the armsmen opened the door, and Kharl stepped through it. The hall had but perhaps a score of people in it, and slightly less than half of those Kharl knew. He had half expected to see Norgen and Casolan, and he did, but he had not expected to see Lady Hyrietta standing behind Lord Ghrant’s shoulder as her consort waited for Kharl to reach the dais. Nor had he expected to see Lyras standing beside Casolan, nor Jusof and Lord Justicer Priost.

He squared his shoulders and walked deliberately forward, halting several cubits short of the dais, as he had seen all the others do at various audiences. There he bowed slightly, and waited.

Lord Ghrant smiled, and Kharl could sense that it was a friendly smile, albeit one with a hint of nervousness behind it. “Lord Kharl of Cantyl, are you a true and faithful subject of Austra?”

“I am, your lordship.”

“Are you willing to serve, to the fullest and best of your abilities, as an envoy of Austra?”

“I am, your lordship.”

“Then, Lord Kharl of Cantyl, you are hereby appointed as the envoy of the Lord of Austra to the West Quadrant of Nordla, governed by LordWest, with all powers and privileges accorded such envoys, and with the responsibilities required by such powers.”

“Thank you, your lordship.”

“Thank you, Lord Kharl, for taking on those responsibilities and duties. We wish you well.” Ghrant nodded.

Kharl bowed twice, then turned and walked from the audience chamber.

Outside, a messenger was waiting. “Lord Kharl, ser, if you would follow me?”

They had traveled but twenty cubits when Hagen appeared.

“I’ll escort him from here,” the lord-chancellor suggested.

“Ah … yes, ser.”

Hagen smiled, and the messenger scurried away.

“How do you feel as an envoy?” asked Hagen.

“Not that different,” Kharl admitted. “A little more worried. What about this dinner?”

“Oh, it will be very social. Just don’t talk about Brysta or magery unless you’re asked. Otherwise, you can talk about anything.”

Kharl resolved to listen more than talk.

After the private dinner, which was completely social and without a word of either Brysta or what Kharl would be doing as envoy, Kharl accompanied Hagen back to the lord-chancellor’s chamber. He was thinking about being an envoy, and all that it might entail.

Two years in Brysta? It could be much less, Hagen had said. However long it might be, Kharl supposed that it wouldn’t be all that bad, certainly not so bad as living between the walls of a renderer’s vats and a tannery as he had before escaping Brysta. He did have to find Warrl and make arrangements to get him to Cantyl. He could see what else he might be able to do for Sanyle and Jeka. He hoped that Gharan had been able to keep Jeka on as a weaver.

Once the door to the lord-chancellor’s chamber closed, Hagen began immediately by handing Kharl a flat leather case, ornately tooled at the edges and trimmed in gilt. “These are your credentials for presentation to Lord West. No matter what some functionary tries to tell you, insist on a formal presentation. Tell them it can be brief, even but a few moments, but it must be public and formal. If they demur, then suggest that you will be making arrangements to return to Valmurl. If they don’t back down, make the arrangements to take passage on the first of my vessels to port there again and learn what you can while you wait.” A wry smile crossed thelord-chancellor’s lips. “It might come to that, but the moment they learn you intend to leave, you’ll get an audience.” He paused. “Now … there are a few more things we should go over. First, as we have discussed, in my dispatches to the residence steward in Brysta, I have not mentioned you are a mage. I would try to keep that from being widely known for as long as possible. Second, you already understand that you should not trust any other envoys, especially the Hamorian. Also, consider that all Hamorian merchants are effectively spies of the emperor, whether they support him or not.”

Kharl frowned momentarily, then nodded. A good mage or wizard could doubtless discover the truth, as could Kharl.

“You are to send back dispatches, but only upon my vessels and only if you or Erdyl hand them personally to the captains. If you feel that a particular captain has been suborned, let me know by a message through another captain. All dispatches are to be sent to me, and you should never mention Lord Ghrant either directly or by reference. Lord Ghrant will read every one, but if they are intercepted, a message addressed to me is less damaging than one directly to Lord Ghrant. He can always claim that he knows nothing …”

Kharl could also understand that, little as he liked the idea.

“ … we have already discussed the token gift you will present to Lord West and your purse and your draw upon the Factors’ Exchange for the expenses of the envoy’s residence and staff. Do not be extravagant, but also do not be foolishly frugal …”

As Hagen went on, Kharl forced himself to concentrate not only on the words, most of which he had already heard in one form or another, but also on the reasons behind what the lord-chancellor said.

Kharl had never thought he would be leading an entourage, but as he walked down the pier in the hazy early-morning sunlight of fiveday toward the Seastag, Undercaptain Demyst walked before him, Erdyl beside him, and two armsmen from Ghrant’s personal guard followed. Cevor and Alynar wore plain gray, rather than yellow and black, while Demyst wore a gray tunic and a darker gray jacket. Erdyl wore his usual dark green and gray.

Behind them came horse drawing a cart filled with baggage. Much as Kharl had tried to limit what he had brought, he still had three bags. He’d never owned so many garments in his life. His fingers strayed to his bare chin. He still wasn’t used to not having a beard.

“Hadn’t thought I’d ever be leaving Austra, ser,” Demyst said, glancing back at Kharl for a moment. “You think we’ll be in Brysta long?”

“Envoys are sent for two years, I was told, unless they get in trouble.”