L. Modesitt: Ordermaster

“Ser mage?” asked Ghrant, a slight hint of irritation in his voice.

“One more question, if you please, your lordship.”

“Go ahead.”

Kharl forced a hard smile. “Chief Factor, why have you lied in answering every question you have been asked? Have your misdeeds been so great that honest answers would have condemned you to execution for treason and treachery?”

Kharl could hear the indrawn breaths from some standing below the dais.

“I have answered most truthfully, ser mage. Surely, you of all people must know that.”

“I know that you will choke on your treachery, your lies, and that your smooth tongue will not save you from the poison within you. Speak the truth or be suffocated by it.” With his last words, Kharl turned the air around Guillam solid, so solid that the factor stood immobile, unmoving.

Silence filled the chamber. Kharl could feel Guillam struggling, unmoving as he was. The chief factor’s face slowly turned red, then redder, then blue. Only when Kharl could feel the emptiness of death did he dissolve the barriers.

Guillam toppled forward, hitting the floor with a sickening dull thud. He did not move. Kharl knew he never would.

The stillness in the chamber stretched out.

“What … what did you do, ser mage?” Ghrant’s voice was thin.

“I did nothing out of the ordinary,” Kharl said. “I merely commanded him to speak the truth or to choke on his untruths. He could not bear to speak the truth. He died, rather than speak the truth.” Kharl had to struggle to keep his voice steady. His entire body seemed ready to shake, and his knees felt watery. He’d forgotten how much effort magery of that sort took, and he’d done almost none since the battle at Dykaru-four eightdays earlier.

Ghrant turned slightly, his eyes fixing on a darker-skinned individual in crimson-and-gold silks, standing in the group of envoys on the south side of the audience. “Lord Joharak … apparently, there are times when the truth must out-if one is to live.”

“So it might seem, your lordship. Yet one man’s truth is another’s traitor. All rulers who have succeeded have come to understand that.”

“That is most true, Lord Joharak, and the truth that must be in Austra is that which serves Austra.” Ghrant stood. “Chamberlain …” He gave the slightest nod to the body sprawled at the foot of the steps from the dais. “The audience is over.” Ghrant turned and departed.

The moment Ghrant vanished into the one archway, Hagen turned. “This way,” he murmured.

Kharl followed.

Hagen said nothing until the two were alone in the lord-chancellor’s chamber. “Do I wish to know what you did to Guillam?”

“Every word he spoke was a lie,” Kharl replied. “He had no intentionof being loyal. He knew Fostak and knew him well. He had also ordered my death and the serving girl’s.”

“You realize that you have now become a danger to most of the lords and merchants?” asked Hagen dryly. “They have all lied to Lord Ghrant, in more ways than one. I imagine that many of them will have urgent reasons to leave Valmurl before tomorrow.”

“I’m sure Lyras could do what I did.”

“He probably could tell who was lying, but he couldn’t do what you did about it, and he has no magery capable of protecting himself. You will have to be most careful in the days ahead.”

“It might be best if I returned to Cantyl, at least for a time,” Kharl suggested.

“Not quite yet. We will have to act quickly.”

Kharl raised his eyebrows.

“There will be more than one attempt to kill Ghrant within days, if not sooner, or a revolt in his personal guard, or one by the regular guard. Perhaps all three.” Hagen shook his head.

“Because I can tell if someone is lying?”

Hagen nodded slowly.

Kharl had thought he was resolving Ghrant’s problem with Guillam, as well as getting rid of a man who had tried to kill him twice-and now Hagen was telling him that he’d made the situation worse. “I’m sorry. I’d thought-”

Hagen raised his hand. “Don’t worry about it. There would have been problems either way. If Guillam had walked out of the audience hall, everyone would be claiming that Ghrant was afraid to act. If Ghrant had ordered his execution, without any proof, then there might well have been something else.”

“You make it sound like ruling fairly is impossible.”

“It is. Everyone has a different idea of what fairness is.” Hagen walked to the bellpull and gave it three measured tugs. “We’ll start with Vatoran, Casolan, and Norgen. You know Vatoran. Casolan is the commander of the western district, and Norgen commands Ghrant’s personal guards.” Hagen looked mildly at Kharl. “This time, just let me know if someone is lying.”

“While they’re here, or after they leave?”

“While they’re here. We don’t have time for indirection. I take it that you can immobilize or kill one of them if he turns violent?”

“I can, but if you want me to do much, I’ll need to eat something. Bread or cheese, but something.”

“I’ll have some brought. Then we’ll see how much treachery we can sniff out.”

Kharl managed not to shake his head. He just swallowed. He’d never even considered that the truth would have such far-reaching and dangerous consequences-or so quickly.

Almost half a glass had passed before the three commanders stood in Hagen’s small chamber. Kharl had choked down some bread and cheese, and a mug of ale, enough food that he was no longer feeling weakened.

Vatoran stood in the middle, a gray-haired officer with a broad forehead, pointed chin, and perfect mustache. Casolan, to Vatoran’s right, was short and blocky, square-faced. Both Vatoran and Casolan wore the green-and-black uniforms, while on the left stood Norgen, a slender man in black and yellow, whose once-red hair had faded to strawberry and whose freckles had faded into pale splotches on a face that had seen too much sun.

While Hagen stood behind the desk, Kharl was to the side, his back to the north wall.

“Commander Vatoran,” Hagen began, “you were at the audience earlier this afternoon. What did you think of the chief factor’s attitude toward Lord Ghrant?”

Vatoran squinted slightly. Clearly, the question puzzled the officer, Kharl felt.

After a moment, Vatoran replied. “His words were polite. They were not truthful, but they have never been. He was never that truthful to Lord Estloch.” The commander coughed, several times, then stepped back, trying to clear his throat. When he finally straightened up, he was to the left of Norgen.

Kharl could sense the falsity of the cough, but why had Vatoran moved to one side? There was a hint of chaos around the commander, but Kharl had found that many people occasionally showed such hints. While he didnot know why, he had surmised that occurred because they had been near a source of chaos.

“What was your impression of the chief factor, Commander Norgen?”

“Guillam was always well-spoken, ser. He chose his words with care. His own interests were always more important to him than the interests of Austra, but I have found that to be true of most factors and merchants.”

“Were you surprised to find that he was plotting against Lord Ghrant and ser Kharl?”

“No, ser. He is the sort that believes he is superior to others. He believes that, even if they know he opposes them, they will not dare to act against him.”

“You are charged with the safety of Lord Ghrant, Commander Norgen. One of your more trusted armsmen was suborned and tried to murder his consort and heirs. The performance of a number of your companies and their officers has left something to be desired. Under these conditions, I have to ask two questions. First, are you willing to do what is necessary to improve the personal guard? Second, are you personally completely loyal to Lord Ghrant?”