Ordermaster

III

Kharl studied his image in the mirror of the bedchamber. His dark brown hair was cut tastefully short, his beard neatly trimmed. The silvery gray shirt and black waistcoat, and even the black trousers-bestowed by Lord Ghrant in Dykaru-were far finer than any raiment he had ever worn.

Was Guillam so worried about Kharl that he had attempted two assassination attempts in one morning? Or was Kharl so much of a threat that more than one person wanted him dead? Was truth-or disclosure-that deadly?

He laughed. Egen had certainly not wished certain things to become known and had killed Charee and Tyrbel to quell that information, as well as hounded Kharl out of Brysta. The Lord Justicer Reynol had seen what Egen wanted and had made sure that Charee could not reveal anything before she had been hanged.

Why would people be any different in Austra and Valmurl?

He took a deep breath, thinking once more about the past. He shook his head. At the moment, he could do nothing about it. He never could do anything for Charee, but he had hopes for Warrl, and Jeka … if he could ever get back to Brysta. As for Arthal … what would be would be.

As he waited, Kharl leafed through The Basis of Order, seeking a passage that might shed some light on the issues of truth and justice, even as he doubted that Lord Ghrant truly wanted justice or truth from Guillam.

… there is order, and there is chaos, and those who follow each will declare that either order is truth or chaos is truth. A truth that holds for all does not exist, not in the world, nor in the stars, nor on the surface of the land, nor beneath the waves of the ocean. That which is exists, but those who search for truth that applies to all seek what never was and never will be. That is because truth is an image of what is, and that image is painted in the colors of the seeker’s beliefs. Each seeks a different truth, and each claims that his is the only truth. In that the seeker is surely correct …

No such thing as truth?

Kharl frowned, then nodded slowly.

As midday came and passed, Kharl read, and thought, and considered. He spent close to a glass just thinking about how to word questions for the chief factor. He’d been a cooper, not a justicer or a minstrel.

Thrap!

“Lord Kharl?” The voice was that of Charsal. “I’m to take you to see the lord-chancellor, ser.”

Kharl used his order-senses to make sure the undercaptain was alone. Then he picked up the three bent quarrels and unlocked the door to hischamber, stepping out into the stone-walled corridor and relocking the door.

Charsal glanced at the bent metal quarrels.

“I thought the lord-chancellor should see these.”

“Those are standard quarrels, ser. Why-”

“That is why he should see them. We should go.”

“Yes, ser.” Charsal’s voice expressed puzzlement.

The two walked silently to the central staircase, then down to the main level. There were more bodies-and more guards-in the large hall at the base of the staircase.

When Kharl entered Hagen’s modest space, the lord-chancellor was seated behind the small table desk. He looked up from the papers before him, but did not rise, gesturing to the chairs across the table desk from him.

Kharl set the three quarrels on the desk. “Three men tried to kill me after breakfast this morning. They missed, but I thought you’d like to see these.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“What good would it have done? They were too far away and in too much shadow for me to recognize anyone. It would have distracted you. We already know that people want me dead.” Kharl shrugged.

“We might have-” Hagen broke off the words. “You’re right. They just shot at you and ran?”

“Something like that.”

“I knew things were bad here, but …” Hagen shook his head. “You were right about the food. There was enough vicin in your meal to kill an entire company. I’m not surprised that you are regarded as an enemy, but I was surprised that Guillam knew you were here and moved so quickly.”

“You didn’t tell anyone when you left to fetch me?”

“No one. I did say that I was going out on the Seafox to test the new condensers.”

“Did you talk to the girl who brought the tray?”

“I couldn’t.” Hagen’s face clouded. “The guards found her body in the outer garden. She was garrotted. The cooks thought the tray was for the armsmaster of the Great House, but he spent the night outside Valmurl, with his brother. They swear that no one had touched it when they gave it to her to deliver.”

A dead serving girl and two attempts on his life-scarcely a promisingbeginning to his first day in Lord Ghrant’s Great House. “Does the name Fostak mean anything to you?”

“Where did you hear that?” Hagen’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I overheard it in a conversation, from a young man named Zerlin. I had the feeling I wasn’t supposed to hear it.”

“Fostak is the private secretary of Lord Joharak. Joharak is the Hamorian envoy to Austra. There have been rumors that Fostak is a duelist, as well as the one who funneled golds to Ilteron to encourage him to take up arms against Ghrant.”

“He is still in Valmurl?”

“Of course. Would you wish to upset the Emperor of Hamor, with all his iron-hulled warships? Without a shred of proof?” Hagen’s tone was gently ironic.

There hadn’t been any real proof against Kharl when he’d been unjustly accused of murdering Jenevra, but that hadn’t stopped Egen and Lord West. But then, Kharl reminded himself, there were different standards when rulers and power were involved.

“The other reason I wanted to talk to you was to brief you on what will happen shortly. As we discussed earlier, Lord Ghrant will be seeing Chief Factor Guillam in a formal audience. That means that no one else can speak unless addressed first by Lord Ghrant. Even if he looks at you, that does not give you permission to speak. He may ask you if you have any questions for Guillam. That means that he expects you to have a question or two, three at the most. When you speak to Guillam, or offer more than a word or two, you step forward slightly. If Lord Ghrant wishes you to continue with questions, he will let you know by saying something like, ‘Please continue, ser Kharl.’ You should ask several more questions, then look at Lord Ghrant and either suggest that you have a few more questions or say that you have nothing further to ask the chief factor. Oh, and during an audience, Lord Ghrant is addressed as ‘your lordship.’”

Kharl nodded. “Do you know what Lord Ghrant wants to know?”

Hagen laughed. “He wants proof that Guillam was a traitor and will be loyal.”

“And if he will not be loyal?”

“Some way to show Guillam’s treachery to all present.”

“He does not wish much.”

“Rulers never do. Neither do lords-chancellor.” Hagen stood andstraightened the gold-trimmed, black velvet jacket. “We should go. Lord Ghrant expects us to be in the audience chamber a quarter glass before he appears.”

Rather than take the front door, Hagen stepped to the rear door, opening it. Kharl followed the lord-chancellor down the narrow, oak-paneled corridor.

“This is a private entrance to the audience chamber. When we reach the dais, you stand to my left and about a half pace back, if you would.”

“I can do that.”

At the end of the short passageway was an armsman, wearing the yellow and black of Ghrant’s personal guard.

“Lord-chancellor … how should I announce …?”

“The lord-chancellor and ser Kharl of Cantyl.”

“Ser mage.” The guard inclined his head, then turned and opened the door, stepping into the audience hall. His voice boomed out. “The lord-chancellor, Lord Hagen, and ser Kharl of Cantyl.”

As directed, Kharl followed Hagen out into the audience hall, a high-ceilinged chamber close to sixty cubits in length and half that in width. The ceiling rose to an arched height of perhaps thirty cubits. The archway through which he and Hagen had entered opened directly onto a dais that was ten cubits deep and stretched the width of the chamber, two cubits above the main floor. In the center was a simple high-backed carved chair. It was empty.

The area below the dais contained close to a hundred men, and no more than a handful of women. All stood facing the dais, but most continued to talk to each other in low voices. Only a handful even looked in Kharl or Hagen’s direction as the two walked into the hall. At first glance, Kharl recognized no one, but then, after a moment, he did see Commander Vatoran near the rear of the group on the right side.

When Hagen stopped, Kharl halted as well, positioning himself as directed.

“In a moment,” Hagen said quietly, “some of them will recognize who you are, and they will begin to study you. There was a reason I did not have you announced as a mage.”

“I only recognize Commander Vatoran.”

“They do not know your face, but some know your name, and that will spread through them. Trust me. Watch.”

Kharl watched. As Hagen predicted, more and more sets of eyesfocused on him, but in passing, as if no one wanted to be caught looking at Kharl for long. The effect was mildly unsettling, especially as Kharl could hear fragments of murmured conversations.

“ … big man for a mage …”

“ … said he was a cooper and a marine … lord-chancellor’s ships …”

“ … Hagen’s more than Ghrant’s … you ask me …”

“ … not all bad that way …”

In a sense that was right, because without Hagen’s support and kindness, Kharl would either have been starving in the back alleys of Brysta or dead.

“His Lordship, Ghrant of Dykaru, Lord of Austra and Scion of the North.”

The murmurs died away as Ghrant entered the hall from the other rear door-opposite the one through which Kharl and Hagen had entered. The Lord of Austra was attired in dark green, trimmed in black, and the green was the same shade as worn by the two men whose conversation Kharl had overheard, although the cloth itself looked to be of the finest velvet.

Without a word, Ghrant seated himself in the ancient high-backed chair. He nodded to the chamberlain, who had followed him and stood to the right of the chair, roughly the same distance from Ghrant as were Hagen and Kharl.

“Summon Guillam of Desfor.”

The hall remained silent for a time, without even the lowest of murmurs.

“Guillam of Desfor, chief factor of Austra,” announced one of the guards in yellow and black stationed just inside the double doors.

“Have him enter.”

Guillam stepped through the doors, which closed behind him, and into the audience chamber. He was an angular figure, with thinning gray hair and deep-set eyes. Over his trousers and jacket, he wore a sleeveless open robe of purple. Since no one else in the audience hall wore anything like it, Kharl assumed the robe was a symbol of his position as chief factor.

From the moment the chief factor stepped into the hall, Kharl could sense the whiteness of chaos that drifted around him. That whiteness felt wrong to Kharl, almost like an itching that he could not scratch.

Guillam glanced toward the mage, then away. As he headed toward the high-backed chair, and Lord Ghrant, his eyes flickered toward Kharl severaltimes Even so, the chief factor walked deliberately, without a hint of haste, to the foot of the six wide and carpeted steps that rose from the floor to the dais. There he halted.

“You had requested my presence, your lordship?” Guillam’s voice was a smooth yet resonant baritone. He bowed slightly after speaking.

“We did, chief factor.” Ghrant’s voice was thin by comparison to those of Guillam, the guard, and the chamberlain.

“At your request I am here.” Guillam emphasized the word request ever so slightly.

“I always attempt to be courteous, wherever possible,” Ghrant replied smoothly. “During the recent uprising, your early absence from Valmurl was noted. I had hoped that you might enlighten us as to the reasons for your departure … and, of course, your destination.”

“I had received word that my eldest son was most ill. It was feared that he might not live, and I repaired to my country house.”

Guillam was but six cubits from Kharl, and the falsity of his reply shivered through the mage.

“How is your son? I assume that he recovered, since we have not heard otherwise.”

“He is on the path to recovery, your lordship.”

“And you remained at your country house during the entire period of unpleasantness?”

“Of course, your lordship.”

That also was false, strongly so.

“Some have questioned your loyalty and stated that you had favored the would-be usurper. I would not wish to make a judgment on such without hearing from you.”

“Your lordship, I favored and supported your father. You are his rightful heir, and I have likewise supported you. I will continue to support you, as I have from the beginning.” Guillam bowed again.

Kharl managed to keep his face absolutely immobile in the face of the chaos and falsity that filled and lay beneath Guillam’s words, words so smoothly delivered.

“I am most pleased to hear that, chief factor.” Ghrant turned slightly in the chair. “Do you have any questions you might wish to ask the chief factor, ser Kharl?”

“Yes, your lordship.” Kharl was very glad that he had thought over carefully what Guillam might say.

Ghrant nodded at Kharl.

Kharl stepped forward a pace. “Chief factor, you are a man who knows a great deal and a great number of people in Austra. Because you do know so many, you might be most helpful. This morning, there was a poisoned tray offered to a guest at the Great House. Before she could be questioned, the server who offered it was found strangled. Did you have any knowledge of this?”

“No, ser mage. Why would I have any knowledge of something that sordid?” Contempt oozed from Guillam, along with a sense of chaos, not the chaos of magic, but the sort of chaos that Kharl was coming to associate with evil. While Guillam seemed to be looking at Kharl, his eyes avoided those of the mage. He was also lying.

“What is your relationship with a man named Fostak?” After a slight pause, Kharl added, “Or what was it?”

For the slightest moment, Guillam did not move, a moment almost imperceptible. “I have no relationship with anyone called Fostak. I never have.”

Another lie. Kharl was beginning to feel that he was making the chief factor uncomfortable, but that might have been because of the questions.

“This morning, three crossbowmen fired quarrels within the Great House. While no one was hurt, this sort of matter could be considered to reflect poorly upon Lord Ghrant, and your knowledge could be most helpful in resolving this. Have you any knowledge of this?”

“Crossbowmen in the Great House? Hardly.”

That was also a lie, if not so pronounced as the other two. Kharl could see that there was no way to get Guillam to admit his guilt, and if he could not, Lord Ghrant would not be terribly pleased with Kharl. That didn’t bother Kharl so much as the fact that Guillam was not only a liar, but someone who had ordered two murders and was and would be a traitor.

“Ser mage?” asked Ghrant, a slight hint of irritation in his voice.

“One more question, if you please, your lordship.”

“Go ahead.”

Kharl forced a hard smile. “Chief Factor, why have you lied in answering every question you have been asked? Have your misdeeds been so great that honest answers would have condemned you to execution for treason and treachery?”

Kharl could hear the indrawn breaths from some standing below the dais.

“I have answered most truthfully, ser mage. Surely, you of all people must know that.”

“I know that you will choke on your treachery, your lies, and that your smooth tongue will not save you from the poison within you. Speak the truth or be suffocated by it.” With his last words, Kharl turned the air around Guillam solid, so solid that the factor stood immobile, unmoving.

Silence filled the chamber. Kharl could feel Guillam struggling, unmoving as he was. The chief factor’s face slowly turned red, then redder, then blue. Only when Kharl could feel the emptiness of death did he dissolve the barriers.

Guillam toppled forward, hitting the floor with a sickening dull thud. He did not move. Kharl knew he never would.

The stillness in the chamber stretched out.

“What … what did you do, ser mage?” Ghrant’s voice was thin.

“I did nothing out of the ordinary,” Kharl said. “I merely commanded him to speak the truth or to choke on his untruths. He could not bear to speak the truth. He died, rather than speak the truth.” Kharl had to struggle to keep his voice steady. His entire body seemed ready to shake, and his knees felt watery. He’d forgotten how much effort magery of that sort took, and he’d done almost none since the battle at Dykaru-four eightdays earlier.

Ghrant turned slightly, his eyes fixing on a darker-skinned individual in crimson-and-gold silks, standing in the group of envoys on the south side of the audience. “Lord Joharak … apparently, there are times when the truth must out-if one is to live.”

“So it might seem, your lordship. Yet one man’s truth is another’s traitor. All rulers who have succeeded have come to understand that.”

“That is most true, Lord Joharak, and the truth that must be in Austra is that which serves Austra.” Ghrant stood. “Chamberlain …” He gave the slightest nod to the body sprawled at the foot of the steps from the dais. “The audience is over.” Ghrant turned and departed.

The moment Ghrant vanished into the one archway, Hagen turned. “This way,” he murmured.

Kharl followed.

Hagen said nothing until the two were alone in the lord-chancellor’s chamber. “Do I wish to know what you did to Guillam?”

“Every word he spoke was a lie,” Kharl replied. “He had no intentionof being loyal. He knew Fostak and knew him well. He had also ordered my death and the serving girl’s.”

“You realize that you have now become a danger to most of the lords and merchants?” asked Hagen dryly. “They have all lied to Lord Ghrant, in more ways than one. I imagine that many of them will have urgent reasons to leave Valmurl before tomorrow.”

“I’m sure Lyras could do what I did.”

“He probably could tell who was lying, but he couldn’t do what you did about it, and he has no magery capable of protecting himself. You will have to be most careful in the days ahead.”

“It might be best if I returned to Cantyl, at least for a time,” Kharl suggested.

“Not quite yet. We will have to act quickly.”

Kharl raised his eyebrows.

“There will be more than one attempt to kill Ghrant within days, if not sooner, or a revolt in his personal guard, or one by the regular guard. Perhaps all three.” Hagen shook his head.

“Because I can tell if someone is lying?”

Hagen nodded slowly.

Kharl had thought he was resolving Ghrant’s problem with Guillam, as well as getting rid of a man who had tried to kill him twice-and now Hagen was telling him that he’d made the situation worse. “I’m sorry. I’d thought-”

Hagen raised his hand. “Don’t worry about it. There would have been problems either way. If Guillam had walked out of the audience hall, everyone would be claiming that Ghrant was afraid to act. If Ghrant had ordered his execution, without any proof, then there might well have been something else.”

“You make it sound like ruling fairly is impossible.”

“It is. Everyone has a different idea of what fairness is.” Hagen walked to the bellpull and gave it three measured tugs. “We’ll start with Vatoran, Casolan, and Norgen. You know Vatoran. Casolan is the commander of the western district, and Norgen commands Ghrant’s personal guards.” Hagen looked mildly at Kharl. “This time, just let me know if someone is lying.”

“While they’re here, or after they leave?”

“While they’re here. We don’t have time for indirection. I take it that you can immobilize or kill one of them if he turns violent?”

“I can, but if you want me to do much, I’ll need to eat something. Bread or cheese, but something.”

“I’ll have some brought. Then we’ll see how much treachery we can sniff out.”

Kharl managed not to shake his head. He just swallowed. He’d never even considered that the truth would have such far-reaching and dangerous consequences-or so quickly.