Ordermaster

LXIV

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.

“Some of these volumes date back several centuries.”

“So do some in our residence,” Kharl said. “I doubt anyone has read most of them in all that time.”

The Sarronnese laughed. “There are several thousand here. I’ve read perhaps two or three hundred, mostly the histories, and some of the essays. Jemelya has read another hundred or so.”

Kharl recalled the assistant’s name, but did not comment.

Luryessa gestured toward a door set in the middle of the south wall, between the wall cases. “Would you like to see my private study, Lord Kharl?”

Kharl understood. The message was not an invitation to dalliance. “I would be honored, Envoy Luryessa.”

After they entered, Luryessa closed the heavy door behind her and turned. “Lord Kharl … or should I call you mage?”

“Envoy Luryessa … one could also call you sorceress.”

The muscular silver-haired woman nodded. “One could. It would not be accurate in many fashions. Shall we fence, or be direct? We are private here, and all of my retainers in the residence at the moment are trustworthy.”

Kharl shrugged helplessly. “I cannot fence. My weapons are staff and cudgel, and both are most direct.”

“Are you at liberty to tell me why Lord Ghrant sent a powerful mage as his envoy? Has he so many that he can spare one of your strength more than a thousand kays from Valmurl?”

“I cannot look into Lord Ghrant’s mind, Envoy Luryessa-”

“Just Luryessa in private, please.”

“I know that he is greatly concerned about the intentions of the Emperor of Hamor. All I have seen in the harbor are Hamorian vessels, and there are no other merchanters. That concerns me.”

“It would concern all with any intelligence. Your secretary was most polite with Jemelya, but you would not have sent him so soon after your arrival had you not been concerned about matters here in Brysta.”

“You are most observant.”

She smiled. “Has Lord Ghrant so many mages?”

Kharl smiled, politely. “Does the Tyrant?”

“No. Sorcery and magery are frowned upon in Sarron. I am seldom welcomed home, but find myself honored in my positions as envoy to other lands … so long as I do not return home too often or for too long.”

Kharl could sense the absolute truth of Luryessa’s words … and the hidden sadness behind them.

“And what of you?” she asked.

He paused, then said carefully, “Lord Ghrant is wary of mages, but one other of longer service to the Lords of Austra remains in Valmurl.” That was certainly true.

“You are most cautious, yet truthful in what you have said.” A smile containing a hint of impishness, incongruous in the stately envoy, crossed her lips. “You have not said much, though.”

“I have never been an envoy before. I must feel my way with care. Great care.”

“Envoys must always be careful. They send us where there are neither fleets nor lancers to support us.”

“And some lands have few of either.”

Luryessa nodded, then said, “Magery is an acceptable substitute. Great magery was used to defeat the Hamorians in Austra, although Lord Whetorak has claimed that there were no Hamorians in Austra, except for a handful of mercenaries.”

“That may be, but those mercenaries wore Hamorian uniforms,” Kharl said.

“Did the emperor also send chaos-wizards?”

“I cannot say who sent all of them. Not for certain. Some did arrive on Hamorian ships, and they were chaos-wizards who supported the rebel lords.”

“Our envoy reported that Lord Ghrant had a powerful order-master.No one knows much about what he did or how, except that there are claims that he turned a mountain into solid glass, and when all was over, there were no rebels left living, and no chaos-wizards.”

Kharl shrugged. “I can say that he did not turn a mountain into glass.”

“I thought not. That is something of chaos. Still … a powerful ordermaster might be able to deflect such forces, and that deflection might turn part of a mountain into glass.”

“I suppose that could happen,” Kharl admitted. While he suspected that Luryessa was probably more trustworthy than either the Hamorians or Lord West and his retainers, he was uncomfortable dealing with such an astute woman. “I think it is best that I not speak of how Lord Ghrant was able to overcome the rebels and the Hamorians.”

“Then we will not. I would not wish to place you in an uncomfortable position.” Another smile appeared. “Overcaptain Osten and the Hamorians may wish that. Sarronnyn does not.”

“My secretary met with a secretary for Lord West, and he gained the impression that young Osten is greatly involved in governing the West Quadrant.”

“In practice, Overcaptain Osten, who is the eldest of Ostcrag’s sons, rules Brysta. The youngest, Captain Egen, rules the southern lands of the West Quadrant. Vielam rules the others outside of the south and Brysta, but he defers to his brothers.”

“I thought that Egen was the youngest.”

“He is, but Vielam defers to him, nonetheless. That has become more true and more frequent since Klarsat departed.”

The name meant nothing to Kharl. “Was he a councilor or advisor to Vielam?”

“Of sorts. He was an order-mage. Of moderate abilities. He departed in the spring, on a merchanter from Recluce.″

“He supported Vielam, then.”

“Let us surmise that he disliked Vielam less than his brothers. He left after the first of the Hamorian white wizards arrived.”

The more Kharl heard, the less he liked what he felt was happening in Brysta. “I have heard reports of brigandage. One of our merchanters told the lord-chancellor that his men were prevented from traveling south for goods for that reason.”

Luryessa laughed. “All the would-be brigands are working in the quarriesthat Egen has reopened. Do not have any of your retainers walk the streets alone, particularly at night.”

“Every man not a lord and not likely to be missed is a brigand?”

“Or a beggar or a thief.”

Kharl could easily believe that of Egen. “Why does he need that many?”

“They’re building a road to the south, following the old road to Surien.”

“For trade?”

“That is the claim, but work on the road did not begin until Lord South refused to consort his daughter Estelya to young Egen.”

“And the Hamorians?”

“They are providing tools and knowledge. So they say.”

Kharl snorted.

“You doubt the honorable intentions of Hamor?”

“From what I have seen, Hamor has no intentions that are honorable. Although I have been told that the Emperors of Hamor are patient, I have doubts about this emperor.”

“His mightiness Sestar reached his majority less than two years ago. He is little older than your Lord Ghrant. As you surmise, he is not considered patient.” The Sarronnese laughed, sardonically, yet good-naturedly. “You have been to Cigoerne, then?”

“Only to Swartheld. Have you seen Cigoerne?″

“I have. It is most beautiful, most cultured, and terrifying in what it represents.″

“Oh?” Kharl did not know exactly how to respond to that statement.

“The city is pleasant and beautiful, as is all around it. But, two hundred kays to the north is Luba, where the sky is black with soot and dust and ashes, and where thousands of furnaces and steam engines roar day and night. To the west stretches the Great Highway, a white stone road that will reach all across Hamor to Atla in the east. It, too, is proud and beautiful, and few see the quarries where thousands labor endlessly.” Luryessa gave the smallest of shrugs.

“Beauty built on misery and slavery?”

“The Hamorian philosopher Aurelat wrote that most men live lives of misery, and that is indeed the human condition. Since misery has always existed, continues to exist, and always will, he posited that a ruler’s taskwas to harness that misery in the most productive of ways, creating structures of beauty and providing adequate food and lodging for all so that their misery could be most effectively used to improve the land and the world.”

“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.”

“But … people won’t buy then, and they won’t sell.”

“Oh … where will the smiths and factors get iron stock? Or copper? Why do you think Egen has his men patrolling the roads to the south, and why there are some white wizards with his forces? Or why Vielam’s road patrols to the north and east are levying road tariffs on all merchant traffic?”

“It’s that bad?”

“No. It’s worse. More than a half score merchanters have vanished in the past two seasons, all of them nearing or bound for Brysta or Sagana. They were all from smaller lands, places like Suthya and Spidlar.”

“I’ve heard little of that, and neither has the lord-chancellor.”

“He and Lord Ghrant doubtless suspect something. Otherwise, why would you be here?” Luryessa smiled once more, knowingly.

Kharl could not argue with either the logic or the smile, and he had no doubts that everything she had told him was true. He could only worry about what she had not said-or did not know.

“While there are details I may have glossed over, Lord Kharl, that is what we face here in Brysta.”

There were more than a few details missing, but they wouldn’t change the overall view, Kharl suspected as he took another sip of wine. “Could you tell me about the other envoys?”

“I could, but I’d rather not share that information until after you havemet them. Then, you can invite me for refreshments, and we can compare what we have seen.”

Once more, Kharl could detect no evasions, and none of the chaos that generally signified lying or dishonesty. That was more disturbing than a lie would have been. “Then, if you will not share that information with me now, perhaps you could tell me about Sarronnyn, and about how people conduct their lives under the Legend … and how you came to be an envoy.″

“You do not ask for much. Histories have been written about Sarronnyn.”

“But I have not read them.” Kharl smiled. “I have not seen any in Austra, either.”

“That is less than surprising.” Luryessa took a sip of her Shyrlan before continuing. “Sarron is the capital of Sarronnyn, and it is both an old city and a new one. It was founded by the last of the original angels to leave Westwind. That was nearly thirteen hundred years ago. Once it was a craft and trade center, through which flowed all the trade north of the Stone Hills and west of the mountains. In time, the rulers of Lornth decided that Sarron was too powerful and independent. They attacked. They were right. The women warriors of Sarron destroyed the forces of Lornth. From those battles came Sarronnyn …”

Kharl listened intently.