L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“That serves the lords and the emperor most effectively.”

“Aurelat has been a favorite of the emperors, especially after he drowned in his bath a hundred years ago.”

“I see.”

“Do Lord West or his sons know that you are an order-master?”

“I am to present my credentials on twoday. I have not said anything about my small abilities.”

“Most wise. Still, it will not be that long before it is rumored that you are a mage. Lord West retains a chaos-wizard, and anything known in that keep does not remain there. Once that becomes known, those who favor greater alliance with Hamor will claim that your presence signifies an alliance between Nordla and Reduce.”

“Recluce has never allied with anyone. It is not likely to do so now,” Kharl pointed out.

“What is in fact has never changed the minds of those who wish to believe otherwise.”

Kharl could not argue that. “Is it known that you are a sorceress?”

“No, but all women envoys of the Legend-following lands are considered sorceresses. So we never affirm or deny it. What good would it do?” Luryessa’s lips quirked. “It is said that you have been studying the laws of Nordla. I would not have thought that of much use, since the lord justicers neither know them nor follow them.”

“I had heard such,” Kharl admitted. “I am hopeful that the way in which they do not follow them might prove helpful in understanding Brysta.”

“You have greater hopes than do I.” Abruptly, she turned, her hand on the lever of the closed study door. “Come, let us have some refreshments, and I will tell you what I know of Brysta and Ostcrag, Lord West.”

“And about Sarronnyn. I know little of Sarronnyn,” Kharl confessed.

“We can help with that.” Luryessa opened the door to the private study, then led him through the main library and farther down the corridor to a smaller parlorlike room. The chamber held a circular table of black lorken, inlaid with a floral border of white oak. Five chairs were set around the circular table. The only other furnishings were chest tables set againstthe inside walls. Wide glass windows stretched the length of the outside wall, overlooking a garden, except the garden was almost entirely of stones arranged in a pattern that Kharl thought he should recognize, but didn’t.

Luryessa gestured toward the windows and the garden beyond. “The stone garden is a copy of one I once saw in Viela. I tried to have it laid out from my memory, but you never know. The druids are good with sand and stone, for all that they prefer the forest.” After the briefest of pauses, she added, “Please sit down. Ziela will be bringing the refreshments. I’ve taken the liberty of offering you Shyrlan. It’s a light white wine, very refreshing on hot sultry days like these. If you don’t like it, we can offer other vintages, or pale ale or lager, as well.”

“You know more of it than I do.” Kharl smiled.

A slender girl, wearing a blue shirt and matching blue trousers, appeared with a tray. Deftly, she set a fluted crystal goblet before Kharl and another before Luryessa, followed by a small blue porcelain plate. Then came three platters, each with different kinds of pastries, which she placed equidistant from the two envoys.

“Thank you, Ziela,” said Luryessa.

“Thank you,” echoed Kharl.

They received a slight bow, and then Ziela was gone. As the serving girl slipped away, Kharl realized that he had not seen a single boy or man since he had entered the Sarronnese residence.

Luryessa lifted her goblet. “To your success as an envoy, Lord Kharl.”

“And to your continued success.” Kharl could detect no hint of chaos or anything untoward in the nearly clear wine, nor in the miniature cakes and pastries on the oval platters of blue-tinted porcelain. He took a small sip. While he was no expert on wines, the Shyrlan was light and cool, as Luryessa had promised, with a slight sweetness and a hint of a fragrance that was fruitlike, but not like any fruit he had ever tasted. “This is good.”

“You doubted me?” Her voice was light.

“I did not doubt you, but I am no expert on wines.”

“You have great knowledge in other matters, I am most certain, else you would not be here.”

“I’ve never heard of a name like Luryessa,” Kharl said, not wishing to discuss his expertise or lack of such and hoping that comments about her name were harmless enough.

“You may never hear of it again. It’s an old name, and in the tongue of the Legend, it means ‘of Ryessa,’ or of the lineage of Ryessa.″

Having no idea who Ryessa might be, Kharl just nodded and took a sip of the white wine.

“Ryessa was the Tyrant of Sarronnyn and the older sister of Megaera. Megaera was a powerful white sorceress in the days of Westwind. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the founding of Reduce, but she …”

“ That Megaera? You’re related to her?”

“More to her older sister, according to family stories, but that was hundreds and hundreds of years back.” Luryessa grinned. “Seven hundred and eight, actually.”

Kharl took another sip of the wine, then followed Luryessa’s example and lifted one of the white-glazed pastries onto his small plate.

“Sarronnyn went into a period of great decline after Megaera’s departure,” Luryessa went on. “It was gradual, so gradual that few noticed until just before the great cataclysm. Then the Iron Guard of Fairven and the white wizards began to build the last of their great highways. That was the one through the Westhorns so that they could bring Sarronnyn and all the west of Candar under their rule.”

“But that didn’t last long,” Kharl pointed out, recalling what Tarkyn had once told him. “Only for a few years.”

“Less than that, actually, but that was only because Fairven and most of the wizards were destroyed, not because of any strength of Sarronnyn.”

“No one knows who did that, do they?”

The faintest smile crossed Luryessa’s lips. “It is a fair guess that a renegade black wizard and engineer from Reduce did so. There were … artifacts … left, and they were of black iron. There were also bodies, but to this day, no one knows more than that.”

“I’m sorry. I was asking about your name.”

“The name of the Tyrant who let Sarron fall was expunged, never to be used again, according to her heir. So was the name Ryessa.″

“Why Ryessa? She didn’t have anything to do with the fall of Sarronnyn. She was long dead.”

“The thought was that her handling of Megaera created Recluce and made the rise of Fairven possible. My grandmother disagreed. I was named for Ryessa as a protest. Now … names that suggest that lineage are frowned upon.”

“Just frowned upon?”

“In Sarronnyn, that is as good as an outright prohibition.”

That said much to Kharl. “So you still have a Tyrant?”

“Absolutely. And we still follow the Legend.”

“How long have you been the envoy here?”

“Six years.”

“Isn’t that long for an envoy?”

“It is, but … everyone feels more comfortable with me being here. That includes me.”

“What can you tell me about Brysta that you think I should know?” Kharl took a bite from the pastry. The inside held a pearapple-almond filling. He managed not to lick his lips.

“It seems clear enough that the Hamorians are behind the road-building and the new patroller barracks. They seem to meet mostly with Captain Egen …″

That made great sense to Kharl, knowing what he did of Egen.

“They’ve also been overcharging for the goods they bring to Brysta, and refusing to buy Brystan wares unless they can get them at prices that beggar the sellers.”