Ordermaster

LXXIV

Kharl stood in the library on twoday morning, waiting for Mantar to ready the carriage to take him to present his credentials to Lord West. He hoped he could remember all that Erdyl and he had gone over the evening before, especially all of the phrases and courtesies.

On Erdyl’s advice, he wore his second-best finery, a silver-gray shirt, black jacket trimmed in green, and black trousers and boots. His eyesdropped to the silver box on the desk, shimmering from its recent polishing. The box had had been Hagen’s suggestion for a token to Lord West. A handspan in length and half that in height and width, it was ornately chased silver, with three narrow courses of stone inset as a border on the hinged top. The outer course and the inner courses were black onyx, and the middle course was lapis lazuli. In the center was a silver replica of the seal of the West Quadrant.

“Something tasteful, but not something he can convert easily into golds,” Hagen had said. “One never gives such to another lord. It’s in poor taste and imprudent, besides.”

Kharl had understood that well enough. He smiled at his recollection of Hagen’s dry words. He eased the gift into a plain pouch of new soft calf leather, then slipped the pouch into the elaborately carved leather case that held his credentials as envoy. He set the case on the corner of the library desk and turned toward the window, looking out at the dark clouds to the west. Were the late-summer rains finally arriving, or would the clouds blow over and leave Brysta hot and close for another eightday?

What did he expect to find out from meeting Ostcrag, the present Lord West? Did Ostcrag know what Egen was planning? Did Osten? Did they have plans of their own? If the reception and presentation allowed any questions at all, Kharl might get a better idea about Hamor and Nordla.

All that wouldn’t help with Jeka, though. There, he was at a loss. He’d worried about her, but he’d been stunned to feel his own reactions to her. That was something he’d never expected. He just hadn’t, and he was thinking about her when he should have been worrying about Lord West and Egen.

Warrl-what had happened to his youngest also lay close to the surface of his thoughts, with the sadness sweeping over him when he least expected it.

“The carriage is ready, ser,” Demyst announced, from outside the library.

Kharl picked up the elaborately tooled leather case with his credentials. As he stepped out of the library, he saw three men awaiting him-Erdyl, Demyst, and Alynar. He raised his eyebrows.

“You need to take a guard, ser, someone in addition to Undercaptain Demyst,” Erdyl said quickly. “So we asked Alynar to accompany you.”

“Thank you.” Kharl glanced at the two armed men. “We’d best be going.” He turned and walked down the corridor to the front portico, then outside.

While Kharl and Demyst entered the carriage, Alynar settled himself next to Mantar on the right side of the driver’s bench seat.

The Quadrancy Keep was at the top of the hill to the northeast of the harbor, an ancient and sprawling pile of gray stone at the topmost end of the Lord’s Road. At perhaps a quarter before the hour, the carriage rolled up to the iron gates-closed and with three guards stationed outside-all regular armsmen, and not patrollers. Kharl could see a raised stone tower on the right, just behind the wall and gates, and he sensed several more armsmen there.

“Lord Kharl, the Austran envoy,” Mantar announced.

Kharl’s name was relayed to another armsmen on the inside of the gate, and several moments passed before the gate began to swing open. As the carriage passed the iron gates, Kharl noted the heavy oak gates behind them, held flush against the outer stone wall. An inner and higher stone wall stood another rod or so inside the outer wall. The inner gates were open, and Mantar drove the carriage into a courtyard beyond the second set of gates. There he pulled up opposite an arched entryway.

Two more armsmen flanked the archway.

As Kharl descended from the coach, a man stepped from the archway.

“I’m Mihalen, Lord Kharl, secretary to Ostcrag, Lord West.” The slender dark-haired man bore a sabre and looked as though he could use it. His eyes measured Kharl. “You look like you were once a marshal.”

“I’ve seen a few battles,” Kharl replied, with a slight laugh, “but not as a marshal.”

Mihalen’s smile was faint. “This way to the small receiving chamber, ser.” He turned and walked through the archway leading into the keep building. Beyond the entry was a small foyer, then a wide but dimly lit corridor. Mihalen kept walking.

Kharl followed.

Close to a hundred cubits down the stone-walled hallway, the secretary turned and stopped at a doorway. There he tugged at a bellpull. After a moment, he spoke. “Lord Kharl, the Austran Envoy, to present his credentials.”

“Show him in, Mihalen.”

The secretary opened the door and gestured for Kharl to enter.

The envoy and mage extended his order-senses … and paused for the briefest of moments. Somewhere beyond the door was a white wizard. Ready to raise shields or harden air, Kharl stepped through the open doorinto a chamber no more than twenty cubits by ten. The walls were of dark wood, and without painting or ornamentation, and the ceiling above was of plaster once white, but yellowed through age. The two high windows were open, but no breeze issued from either.

Four men were on the low dais at the far side of the chamber. Lord West, wearing a dress tunic of Brystan blue and gray trousers, but looking grayer and more frail than the one time Kharl had seen him before, was seated in a carved ebony chair. At his shoulder stood a younger man, close to Kharl’s age, with deep-set black eyes and blond hair cut carelessly short. His dress tunic was burgundy. Stationed at each end of the dais was an armsman, both in burgundy and blue.

Kharl took several steps forward before bowing. “Kharl of Cantyl, here to present my credentials as envoy of Lord Ghrant of Austra to the West Quadrancy, and its Lord.”

“And to his son, Lord-to-be, Osten,” replied Ostcrag. His voice was hoarse.

“Step forward, Lord Kharl,” suggested the younger man, “so that we can see you face-to-face.”

Kharl did so, stopping less than two cubits from the dais. “My credentials.” He took out the proclamation and sealed letter and extended them.

Osten stepped forward. He broke the seal and read the letter, then the proclamation, quickly and seemingly almost casually, before handing them to his sire. “They seem to be in order.”

Ostcrag took more time in reading through the documents. He kept the letter and handed the proclamation back to Kharl. “Welcome to Brysta, Lord Kharl. We honor you as envoy of Lord Ghrant.”

“Thank you.” Kharl inclined his head, then straightened. “In addition to my credentials, I bring a small token of Lord Ghrant’s esteem and respect.” Ignoring the probes by the white wizard for the moment, he extracted the pouch from his case and extended it.

Osten took the pouch as well, easing out the silver box, which he lowered for his sire to see.

“The Lords of Austra have always bestowed such small and exquisitely tasteful gifts,” Ostcrag replied.

“That is because the taste of the Lords of the West Quadrant are well known,” Kharl said, hoping he didn’t have to deal with too many more implied slights, but grateful for the time Erdyl had spent going over some of the possibilities.

Kharl could sense that the white wizard remained behind the hanging at the back of the dais. The wizard was not one as strong as those he had faced in Austra, but one with enough strength to throw firebolts and possibly detect untruths. Yet Kharl could say little about it, without revealing his own abilities. Then, he considered, he could not conceal them.

He looked directly at Osten. “You could invite your wizard to join us. I’m sure he would be more comfortable here than behind the arras.”

“There were rumors,” suggested Ostcrag. “You seem to be affirming them.”

“I have some order-ability,” Kharl admitted. “Enough to sense a white wizard, anyway. That takes little enough.”

“I am certain that Borlent feels more comfortable where he is,” suggested Osten.

Kharl merely nodded. “We all have our places and preferences.” Another phrase from Erdyl.

“Lord Ghrant has survived some difficult challenges in recent times. He must feel most confident-or most adventuresome-to send a mage of any sort to Brysta as an envoy.” Ostcrag’s smile did not extend beyond his lips.

“Times have indeed been difficult in Austra, but Lord Ghrant is most fortunate in having Lord Hagen as his lord-chancellor. Matters have improved greatly. Lord Ghrant is most interested in strengthening Austra within itself. He has little interest in adventures.”

“Not even in Nordla?” Ostcrag raised his eyebrows as if in disbelief.

“Lord Ghrant would hope that matters remain as they have with the four quadrants of Nordla. He would certainly not wish to support any change here.” Kharl managed to keep his expression pleasant, even as he could sense a swirling of chaos from the hidden white wizard. He stood ready with his shields, but the momentary spike of chaos behind the hanging subsided.

“Things always change,” observed Osten, his voice languid, at odds with his almost rigid posture.

“That is true,” Kharl admitted. “Lord West succeeds Lord West, and so long as the succession is proper, that is change as it should be.”

“Yet … small as you claim your talent for order-magery may be, Lord Kharl,” Osten said, “does not your presence suggest … a certain … proclivity … an indication that Austra might favor the policies of Recluce.”

“I don’t think so.” Kharl paused for just a moment. “Hamor uses whitewizards, but I would not claim that such use has ever meant that the emperor is inclined to follow the views of Fairven.”

Ostcrag laughed harshly. “One would hope not. In either case.”

“How are you finding Brysta?” asked Osten quickly. “Or have you been here before?”

Behind him, Lord Ostcrag nodded.

“I’ve seen Brysta from the deck of a merchanter before,” Kharl replied. That was certainly true, if definitely not the whole truth. “And I’ve traveled the streets.” He paused. “I could be mistaken, but I’ve seen no beggars at all on the streets since I’ve been here this time.”

“I’m glad that you have not.” Osten’s voice was hearty. “My brother has taken it upon himself to ensure that no such riffraff bother honest people.”

“I’ve also seen more Watch patrollers. They are most alert.”

“The Watch was reorganized last winter. That was after several malefactors escaped …″ Osten shrugged.”My younger brother was not pleased and took it upon himself to overhaul the entire Watch. We have had far fewer thefts and disorder since.”

Kharl turned to face Ostcrag directly. “Your sons are most diligent.”

“That they are, and a boon to the West Quadrant.”

“Still …” mused Kharl, drawing out the expression, “all cities, save Brysta, seem to have beggars. How have you managed this miraculous feat?”

“By putting them to work,” replied Osten, before his sire could say a word. “They earn an honest wage in the quarries and upon the new south road.”

“The new south road? Where does it go? To Surien?”

“Not yet,” answered Ostcrag. “Were Lord South to finish his portion, within a few years we would have a metaled road between Brysta and Surien. Not the poor clay track that is now a mere excuse for a road. Then we would have greater trade and prosperity.”

“Just like the Great Highway the Hamorians are building between Cigoerne and Atla,” added Osten.

“That would certainly improve trade, I would think,” said Kharl.

“Exactly,” replied Osten. “Have you such highways in Austra?”

“None of that length. Only a few shorter ones near Valmurl,” Kharl admitted, before getting to his own questions. “The Hamorian envoy told me that you were using Hamorian engineers for road-building, but I hadno idea that you were planning to build such a large highway. Is that why there are so many Hamorian merchanters in the harbor?”

“There are no more than usual,” replied Ostcrag.

The older lord was telling what he believed was the truth, and that stopped Kharl for a moment.

“I understand that you are also a scholar of the law, Lord Kharl,” offered Osten. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time in the Hall of Justice? Or is it familiar to you for other reasons?”

Kharl offered a laugh. “I have studied the law, as the chief clerks will tell you, but an envoy’s task is also to better understand the land. What happens in the Hall of Justice reveals much.”

“What has it revealed to you in the very short time that you’ve been here?” asked Osten, his words pointed.

“You like Brysta to be a very orderly city. You do not permit beggars and thieves. You would rather sentence a careless man to hard labor than risk letting a thief go free.”

“Carelessness can be as dangerous as theft,” Osten countered.

Kharl smiled politely. “You asked what I saw, Lord Osten.”

“Overcaptain. My sire is the only Lord.”

Kharl nodded to Ostcrag. “I beg your pardon.”

“Granted, Lord Kharl.” Ostcrag looked hard at the envoy. “You are a large man. Few are so large, and you speak as though you have some familiarity with Brysta. Yet you have lands in Austra. How did this happen?”

“I was fortunate in being in the right place during the revolt against Lord Ghrant. I was an officer on a merchanter of Lord Hagen’s and was part of a force that was called to support Lord Ghrant. I managed to be of some assistance when it was most useful.”

“A merchanter officer who is now a lord, who has demonstrated prowess in battle, and who has studied the law. Most unusual.”

“Perhaps, Lord West. Yet envoys must know about trade and battles, and knowing the law cannot hurt.”

“Such abilities are useful, Lord Kharl,” Ostcrag returned, “but they can be most dangerous when an envoy does not have a large force nearby.”

“I would not go against your judgment, ser. I would think that the danger would only exist if the West Quadrant were ruled by a Lord without scruples and honor, and all say that you have exhibited both.” Those words Kharl had managed to adapt, if in a scrambled form, from a phrase that he and Erdyl had worked out the night before.

Osten frowned.

Ostcrag laughed. “You would entrap me by my own honor, Lord Kharl. Indeed, you are a dangerous man.” He stood. “It has been a most … intriguing … presentation. You may find you need more than words to represent Lord Ghrant in these times. Between Hamor and Recluce, the rest of us must tread with great care, even wizards and order-mages.”

“I will remember your words,” Kharl replied.

“Best you do. Good day, Lord Kharl.” Ostcrag nodded.

Kharl bowed, then stepped back, his senses alert; but neither the hidden wizard nor the armsmen moved or acted as he left the chamber.

Outside, in the corridor, Mihalen waited.

“You must have intrigued them. Such presentations are usually shorter.”

“I’m new to being an envoy,” Kharl replied. “I’m sure that it showed.”

“All envoys must have a first posting.”

Kharl smiled politely. He just wanted to leave the Quadrancy Keep. The walls seemed to press in on him, although his order-senses detected nothing except a feeling of age and faint chaos throughout everything.

Mantar, Demyst, and Alynar were waiting in the courtyard with the carriage, and Demyst offered a smile of relief as Kharl stepped through the archway. Kharl did not bother with a parting greeting to Mihalen, whom he trusted even less than Lord West and his son.

Not until the carriage rolled out of the gates and onto Lord’s Road downhill toward the residence did Demyst ask, “How did things go, ser?”

“Mostly as expected. They wanted to know more about me, and I wanted to find out things about them. I didn′t find out much. They didn’t either.” He just hoped that he had not revealed too much, although he had expected more probing questions.

As he rode back to his own residence, Kharl pondered over the presentation. He still could not tell, not for certain, if Ostcrag and his son had received word about his magely exploits in Austra. From what he had sensed, he was also fairly certain that neither Ostcrag nor Osten fully understood what Egen was doing. But how could they not see what was so obvious? Was it because they did not wish to see it? Or because they liked the orderly streets of Brysta and did not wish to look at how that order had been created? Then, there was Ostcrag’s parting comment about the conflictbetween Reduce and Hamor. Kharl was unaware of such a conflict, and he was confident he would have felt something when he had been in Nylan. Yet Ostcrag believed what he had said, and the implications of that belief were anything but good for Kharl and Austra.