Ordermaster

LXXXVI

Kharl. woke up in a bed. He thought it might be the large bed in the residence, but, since he still could not see, and since his head throbbed so much that he could not use his order-senses, he was far from sure.

His throat was dry, and he tried to sit up.

“Easy there.” The voice was Jeka′s.

″Thirsty …″ The single word was an effort.

“Got some ale here.”

“Can’t see,” he tried to explain.

Jeka guided a mug into his hands.

He drank slowly. After several small swallows, he could feel the ale easing the dryness in his throat. Some of the throbbing in his skull subsided, enough that he could tell that he was in his own chamber and that Jeka was the only one with him.

“What happened?”

“Undercaptain got me onto your horse. Held you, and we rode back. Alynar helped Erdyl.”

“How is he?”

“Khelaya thinks he’ll be all right. Arm’s pretty smashed up. Hope it doesn’t get wound chaos.”

“That takes a few days,” Kharl said. “When I’m feeling better, I think I could help there.” He took a longer swallow of the ale.

“Told you not to trust Osten. Bastard, always,” said Jeka. “Stupid, too.”

Kharl could agree with both Jeka’s judgments.

“Still think he ought to be Lord West?”

“Who else? If Vielam’s still alive, he’s worse. He’d betray anyone. The two lord justicers don′t have any guts …″ Kharl stopped and coughed. His head throbbed more. When the spasm passed he took another swallow of the ale.

“Anyone shown up,” he asked, “looking for me?”

“Not so far …”

“What time?”

“Close to midnight. Could be Osten’s still out there … grabbing coins and booty.”

“He doesn’t know what happened,” Kharl said. “The only ones close enough to see … We don′t know what happened, either.”

“That was Egen at the end, on the hillside, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. He abandoned the wizards, I think, just before …″

“Too quick for that pissprick.”

Kharl had to agree. Egen didn’t deserve a quick death, or just to die once, not after all he had done. “Best I could do.”

“Hope it hurt-a whole lot.”

“With Egen gone … and the white wizards …″ Kharl paused for another sip of the ale to forestall a second bout of coughing.

“You think Osten managed to come out on top?”

“He might not have had to fight that much,” Kharl suggested. “The regulars might have accepted him as Lord West. You think they want to die for someone who’s dead?”

“What about the other one?”

“Vielam? He might have tried to rally them around him, but that’s hard to do in the middle of a battle.” Kharl stifled a yawn.

“You need sleep,” Jeka insisted.

“So do you.”

“Won’t get it unless you do.”

He could hear a hint of humor in her words. “Thank you …”

“Nothing … did what …” Her hand touched the back of his briefly, then squeezed gently before taking the mug from his hands. “Go to sleep.”

Kharl leaned back into deeper darkness.