Ordermaster (20 page)

pieces, the separate acts, as a part of a whole. Just as a stave was but one part of the barrel, so was one use of magery just a part of the whole framework of order. And he had seen sight shields as separate from hardening air. While the acts were separate, each affected the other.

   
More important, each act of magery affected the world around him, in ways that he still had great trouble foreseeing. He had had no idea that his public revelation of Guillam's falseness would immediately set off a revolution. While Kharl had occasionally stretched the truth, or embroidered it, he'd steered away from out-and-out falsehoods his entire life. That had not been because he was that good a person, he felt, but because lying about his craft and what his barrels could and could not do would create more harm than being truthful, even if his honesty and accuracy had occasionally cost him a sale.

   
Now, he was dealing with rulers and politics, where deception seemed to be accepted, and where so often truth was to be avoided at all costs. Why was that?

   
Kharl had shied away from that question before, not even wanting to think about it, but his most recent experiences made it clear that it was not a question he could avoid facing. Not any longer. There had to be a reason why truth was avoided.

   
He paused. Maybe the word itself was the problem, as the one passage in The Basis of Order had suggested.

   
He shook his head. That might be part of the problem, because what people saw as "truth" varied from individual to individual, but that self-righteousness associated with the word truth also did not explain why lords and rulers said things that were not factually so. Did those who had power come to believe that what they wished to be was already so? Or did they tell lies because they could?

   
Or was it simply the fact that even a powerful ruler could not make everything work out as everyone wanted, and lies were easier for people to accept than words that were accurate and painful?

Did that mean that, in effect, telling the "truth" created chaos?

   
Kharl closed the book slowly, turning and looking out the window, out at the darkening clouds rolling in from the west toward Valmurl.

What did "truth" have to do with order? Or power? Or magery?

   
Kharl already knew that lying made him uncomfortable and probably reduced his power as a mage. Yet those in power, either in Nordla or Aus-fra, used lies to bolster their power. Those in Reduce did not seem to use

lies, but all of Hamor was based on chaos and deception, from what he had seen in Swartheld, at least. Were lies a manifestation of chaos? A form of disorder?

That would grant liars and their lies a measure of power.

   
What of honesty and truth? Or perhaps accuracy and lack of falsehood were better terms. In what aspect of order did their power lie?

   
Abruptly, Kharl smiled broadly. In its own way, order created chaos. His acts with Guillam had proved that. Order could disrupt chaos. He just had not recognized what had happened.

   
His smile faded. That belated realization did not solve his problems in dealing with the white wizards-and the rebel lords.

   
His eyes went to the windows and the oncoming storm. Storms, really, for there would be many.

XXI

On eightday, Kharl was in his quarters, seated in the more comfortable armchair, his back to the window, once more studying The Basis of Order, and thinking about possible strategies for dealing with the remaining- and stronger-chaos-mage with the rebel forces. He would have preferred to spend the time up on the north tower, but the previous day's clouds had brought a cold and steady spring rain that settled in and showed no sign of soon clearing.

   
From what he could tell through his order-senses, the remaining white mage was still somewhere to the south of Valmurl, but not too far from the city. Kharl had noticed that the sense of chaos was less when it rained, and he had paged through the pages of The Basis of Order, seeking an explanation. The first section dealing with rain was not what he recalled:

   
Water is chaos bound in two levels of order. Thus, an ocean or
 
, • a lake conveys order, as does rain, and will provide a barrier
 
. against lesser chaos, but not against greater ...

Like everything in the book, or so it seemed, the words twisted

upon themselves. Several pages farther along, he found the words he half remembered.

   
Chaos fares best upon the dry land, and least in a steady rain or snowfall... Even a fog will affect a chaos-wielder, but only those who are of the weaker sort. A steady rain is a patterned fall of ordered chaos. A raindrop is ordered, and the fall of each is unpat-terned, chaotic, yet all raindrops falling together results in a pattern ordered by chaos, and that order can weaken or destroy many of the links of power created by those who wield chaos ...

   
He couldn't exactly call up rain, or expect the white wizards to attack during a storm.

There was a tentative rap on the door. "Ser Kharl?"

   
"Yes?" Kharl extended his order-senses, as much for practice as anything, but also to assure himself that the figure beyond the door was not another would-be assassin. While Kharl had a sturdy oak bar on the inside of his door, added after the earlier trouble, he no longer had guards stationed outside-at his own request.

   
The figure on the far side of the door was alone-and young-and replied quickly, "The lord-chancellor would like to see you, ser."

Kharl rose. "Now?"

"At your soonest convenience, ser."

   
"I'll be right with you." Kharl laid aside the book, still as frustrating as enlightening, and straightened his jacket before going to the door and opening it.

   
The young armsman in yellow and black was scarcely older than the boys used as messengers in the Great House and a good head shorter than Kharl. He stepped back, involuntarily, as Kharl left the quarters. "Ser ..."

"Lead the way," Kharl said, with a cheeriness he did not quite feel.

   
"Yes, ser." The young man turned and headed down the corridor toward the staircase.

   
Kharl followed, absently noting the damp chill that permeated the hallway and wondering what else had gone wrong for Hagen to summon him in such a peremptory fashion. Was Hagen growing wary of Kharl? Or was the lord-chancellor just pressed with all he had to handle?

   
Even before Kharl reached the door to the lord-chancellor's study, one °f the two guards stationed there stepped forward and opened the door.

After glancing at Hagen, alone in the chamber and seated behind the table desk, Kharl entered and closed the door behind him.

"Please be seated, Kharl." Hagen's voice was gentle.

"You look worried, ser."

   
"I am." Hagen took a sip from the goblet on the table desk. "This rain . .. my throat is raw. The healer says this should help."

"What is it?"

"Honeyed brandy with chaos knows what else in it."

   
Kharl let his senses range over both the lord-chancellor and the potion, but he could feel only the faintest hint of whiteness in the older man's throat. The liquid in the goblet held no chaos at all. "It may be irritating, ser, but it is only a small rawness. The potion should help."

   
"You sound like Istya." Hagen took another sip. "I was about to tell you. The rain has slowed Casolan, but his first companies will be here on threeday. The bulk of his forces should arrive by the end of this eightday."

"That's good, isn't it?"

   
"Hensolas is already moving his forces west to intercept Casolan. In this rain, there are only two safe ways for Casolan to reach Valmurl. I worry about the white wizard. If he stays near Valmurl, either you or some of Norgen's forces need to remain here, but if you do, and the white wizard accompanies Hensolas ..."

   
"Then should I not go south so that I can move to shadow the wizard, whatever he does?"

"If only there were two of you ..." murmured the lord-chancellor.
 
'

"Did something else happen?"

   
"I just got word. One of Norgen's squads, one he uses for scouting, disappeared. This happened while you were dealing with the one wizard. That squad was checking the dam on the Southwest Branch and the Lord's Millrace. We'd heard that Hensolas had sent sappers to start undermining the dam. If it went, all the mills would be without power."

Kharl nodded, not really understanding.

   
"Kharl... a quarter of what golds flow into Valmurl from trade come from the cloth woven in those mills. The mills are powered by the water-wheels on the Lord's Millrace." Hagen's voice was even, but Kharl recognized the strain behind the forced patience.

This time, Kharl's nod conveyed comprehension. "It was a diversion?"

   
"Exactly. That chaos-spawned wizard flamed down almost the entire squad." A grim smile preceded Hagen's next words. "Lord Ghrant has sug-

gested that anything you can do to remove the white wizards would be appreciated."

   
Kharl felt vaguely uncomfortable at first, then angry. Less than half an eightday before, he had practically had to force Hagen to accept his ideas about dealing with the wizards. Now, he felt as though he were being blamed indirectly for not having done enough soon enough. He almost spoke, then swallowed, forcing himself to take a slow deep breath. After a moment, he spoke quietly. "I would be happy to do what I can, ser, as I suggested earlier."

   
"You did." Hagen paused and took another sip from the goblet. "I did not mention your suggestion for dealing with Hensolas and Fergyn. I did tell Lord Ghrant of your willingness to take on the white wizards. He supports that. He did ask me to suggest to you that it might be unwise to extend your talents to either lord, except in the heat of battle."

   
"Does he fear that the lords who now support him might think I would be turned against them in time?"

   
"He did not say, and it was not a question that was prudent to ask. He was not in the best of humors. I would judge that he has fears along those lines." Hagen took a deep breath.

   
Kharl said nothing for a moment, understanding belatedly that, in his own way, Hagen was trying to balance what needed to be done against the temperament of a ruler who feared to act most of the time, then rushed into unwise action-as Ghrant had in Dykaru. Kharl also understood the message within the words. If Kharl could dispose of either Fergyn or Hensolas in a way associated with battle, he was not only free to do so, but such a course of action was highly desirable.

   
Was that the way all successful ruling was handled? By hint and indirection, so that a ruler could deny ordering what he had wished? Or so that he had the choice of taking credit or denying responsibility?

"Do you think we should leave immediately?"

   
"I would judge that dawn tomorrow would be adequate. The rain may have abated by then."

"Dawn tomorrow," Kharl affirmed.

   
"Will one squad be enough to accompany you?" asked Hagen. "I propose assigning Undercaptain Demyst once more. He seems suited to such duty."

   
Kharl thought he understood that message as well. The undercaptain wasn't that good in combat and needed direction. Or he had some other

fault. "One squad and Undercaptain Demyst. We will deal with the wizard and keep him and Lord Hensolas from interfering with Commander Casolan's forces." He just hoped he wasn't promising more than he could accomplish.

   
"I can count on you, Kharl. I wish there were more about whom I could say that." Hagen offered a wan smile. He coughed several times. "Chaos-fired throat."

"You'll be better."

   
"I'm sure I will be, especially once this rain ends." Hagen stood. "I need to get ready to discuss some matters with Commander Norgen."

Kharl rose. "I'll need to prepare a few things myself."

   
Once he was outside Hagen's study, Kharl walked deliberately toward the staircase to the upper levels and his own quarters. He was being given leave-quietly-to carry out what he had proposed. Could he do it?

XXII

1 he clouds that had brought eightday's rain had lifted, but not vanished, by dawn on oneday, and the air was warm and damp, enough so that even without direct sunlight Kharl was sweating in the green-and-black uniform by the time he had ridden less than a glass southward. The white wizard had left the spot where he had been, nearly due south of Valmurl, and appeared to be moving westward, generally toward the Southwest Branch, the stream that fed the Lord's Millrace before joining the River Val.