L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“Why else would it be written?” asked Kharl.

“You are a most cynical envoy, Lord Kharl.”

“Most realistic, young Erdyl. I’ve seen men considered most honorable murder innocents when they were stopped from having their way with unwilling women, and I’ve seen so-called equally honorable men look the other way.”

“That’s something I wouldn’t know, ser.”

“Have you looked that closely?” Kharl fixed his eyes on his secretary.

Erdyl looked away.

Kharl half regretted pressing the young man, but for all his upbringing it was clear that there was much he had not seen, or had chosen not to see.

Then, that was true of all young men. It had been true of Arthal, and Kharl had not been so understanding as he might have been. He moistened his lips, and paused. “There are matters we would all choose not to see,” he added more gently, after a moment, “but the cost of doing so here is far too high. Then, it’s high anywhere.”

Erdyl nodded, if hesitantly.

“Tell me about the other history, the one on Hamor,” Kharl said cheerfully.

On threeday, which dawned cloudy, and slightly cooler, Kharl did not attempt to visit the Hall of Justice, but took a longer and slower carriage tour of Brysta, one that lasted until almost noon. The streets and lanes were not empty, but neither were they bustling, and there were few young women about, and none without escorts of some sort.

Had the word about Egen’s proclivities come to circulate through the city, or had enough people observed the actions of Lord West’s youngest that it was unspoken and common knowledge? Kharl suspected the latter.

Likewise, he saw no beggars, and no one idling on the streets or visible in the alleys and serviceways. While there had always been few, there had been some. For a time, Kharl had been one of them. Now there were none … or they were most well hidden.

After returning to the residence, Kharl summoned Erdyl.

The secretary hurried into the study. “Ser?”

“I have another errand for you. I’d like you to stop by several of the cloth factors and weavers. There are two on Crafters’ Lane around Fifth Cross. Those are Derdan and Gharan. Then there’s Soret. Fundal can give you directions for him.”

“Yes, ser.” Erdyl paused. “Am I to order something?”

“No. You’re to ask about cloth, about the special maroon color used in the patrollers’ uniforms, and anything you can find out about who wove it or where it came from.”

“Ser?”

“Those uniforms are new in the last year, and there are a lot more patrollers than there used to be. If we start asking about that …″

“Yes, ser. But if I ask about the cloth and color … and ask who could supply so much … that sort of thing.”

“That’s right. Look and see if any of them have added weavers or let them go. If the cloth came from Hamor, then it might have an effect.”

“Yes, ser. You want me to start this afternoon?”

Kharl nodded. “After we eat. You’ll have to ride. Try to notice as much as you can.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Let’s go eat.”

After eating a light midday meal, Kharl checked the ledgers once more, then read sections of the History of Hamor , a thick book that began with the legends of the founders who fled the demons of Candar in search of a better life.

“Why is everyone who opposes a people a demon?” mumbled Kharl to himself. “Or is it just whoever opposes the people of the writer?”

From what he had read so far, the founders of Hamor had fled the ancient chaos-wizards of Cyador, then promptly created a land modeled on Cyador, while denying it all the while-and that was if the writers of the history happened to be accurate. Kharl had his doubts, long before he laid aside the history to get ready for his foray into refreshments with the Sarronnese envoy.

At slightly before the fourth glass of the afternoon, Mantar halted the carriage under the portico of the Sarronnese envoy’s residence as the four bells from the back bay tower finished echoing across the upper hillside.

Demyst held the carriage door as Kharl stepped out.

“We’ll be waiting with the carriage, Lord Kharl,” Demyst announced.

″Thank you.″ Kharl walked toward the wide white marble steps, where a footman or some sort of attendant in a blue-and-cream uniform waited.

As he neared, he saw that the attendant was a muscular woman, not a man, wearing the twin shortswords of Southwind-or of Westwind, if one believed the Legend. She opened the door, and announced, “Lord Kharl of Cantyl, honored Envoy of Lord Ghrant of Austra.”

Kharl stepped inside the high-ceilinged and marble-walled foyer,decidedly cooler than the afternoon outside, to find a silver-haired woman awaiting him.

But a half a head shorter than Kharl, she wore long, flowing trousers of green shimmersilk, a tunic of the same fabric, and a short jacket of a darker green, also of shimmersilk. Despite the silver hair, he doubted that she was much older than he was.

“Envoy Luryessa?” Kharl bowed. He could sense chaos all around the woman, but chaos under tight control-chaos that might be called even orderly. He tried not to show any surprise at learning that the Sarronnese envoy was both a woman and a chaos-wizard or sorceress.

“Lord Kharl, I am most pleased to see you and welcome you to the residence.” Luryessa smiled. “Refreshments will be ready shortly. Before that, I would like to show you the public rooms of the residence if you would not mind.”

Kharl smiled politely. “I would appreciate that.” Even the rooms might tell him something.

She turned through the archway on the far right, walking a good thirty cubits to open double doors set under a square arch, stopping there. The chamber was an oblong a good forty cubits by twenty. The ceiling was ten cubits high, and both walls and ceiling were a creamy off-white, plain plaster finish. The only ornamentation on either walls or ceiling were the crown moldings and a wide but plain chair railing, both painted Sarronnese blue, a brighter color than the dark navy blue of Brysta. The floor was of white marble tiles, but most was covered by thick carpets with designs tending toward green. The chairs and settees were upholstered in dark green, and the wood of the tables and furnishings was all a light cherry. The mirrors-flanked by lamps in wall sconces-were framed in cherry as well. There were no paintings hung on the walls, but ornate green tapestries were suspended from the crown moldings. The hangings did not show scenes, but curved and patterned designs in green and gold.

“This is the formal drawing room, for use in the evenings before large dinners.”

Kharl nodded, since he’d never seen a chamber that seemed so cold and formal.

Luryessa continued down the corridor, also marble-tiled, with thin brass strips between the tiles, to the next set of open double doors, where she stopped, without speaking. The dining chamber was larger than the formaldrawing room, with a single long table, also of cherry, and flanked with straight-backed wooden chairs, their seats upholstered in dark green. A quick count suggested to Kharl that the table could seat at least fifty people.

Luryessa smiled and continued to the cross corridor, where she turned right, coming to a stop at another open door. “This is the personal dining chamber, and it’s used most often.”

The smaller chamber held a table that seated close to twenty, but the western-facing windows, the hearth on the south wall, as well as the mauve-and-blue hangings and the cherry-paneled walls, gave it a warmer feeling.

Next came the library, which was almost the size of the main floor of Kharl’s house at Cantyl, with oak shelves covering most of the walls. Here, Luryessa stepped inside.