Ordermaster

XXXVI

After the last audience, Kharl retired to his quarters in the Great House. There he wrestled with all that had happened in the eightdays since he had come to Austra, with all that he had done. Just before sunset, the bell tolled to mark Azeolis’s death.

Kharl left his sitting room, quietly, and made his way to the top of the north tower. First, he watched the sunset, a sunset without brilliantly lit clouds. For a time, he looked to the hills to the north and west. Then he crossed the tower and studied Valmurl, with the evening breeze at hisback, as the city darkened and the first lamps were lit. He had skipped the evening meal, neither feeling hungry nor wanting to talk to anyone.

The rebellion was over, the rebellion that his thoughtless words had sparked. The clenching of his stomach and the uneasiness of his thoughts forced him to correct his thoughts-the rebellion that his thoughtless words had helped spark far earlier than might otherwise have occurred.

There had been so many dead. So many. Nearly half of Ghrant’s regular Austran lancers and armsmen had perished, one way or another. A third of the personal guard had been killed or wounded, many disabled for life. Kharl had long since lost count of the lords and their heirs who had been killed by one side or the other-and all too many had died from his own efforts. Ilteron, Malcor, Kenslan, Fergyn, Hensolas-and that didn’t count the loyal lords such as Lahoryn and Vertyn and their sons and daughters, killed by the rebels.

And all of it sparked over truth? Because Kharl had revealed that he could tell when they lied? Did those in power fear so greatly their deceptions being made known? Did being a lord or ruling require that much deception? Was justice a charade?

He laughed softly, bitterly. It certainly had been in Brysta. But did it have to be? Could justice not be administered, if not impartially, at least with greater understanding and fairness?

His eyes surveyed Valmurl once more. Did it seem strangely quiet, or was he just imagining what he felt it should be?

So many questions … so few answers.

He turned as he sensed someone else stepping out onto the open tower top-Hagen.

“I thought I might find you here,” offered the lord-chancellor. “The servers said that you had not eaten, but no one had seen you leave the Great House, not that they would, were you minded to leave without being seen.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That can be very dangerous.” Hagen’s words were without a trace of humor, sarcasm, or mockery.

“I had not realized how dangerous truth can be.”

“Ah, yes. We all tell our children to tell the truth, even as we conceal it ourselves. Yet none can bear to admit that too much truth is as dangerous as too little.”

Kharl frowned.

“Does it do well to tell your consort that she is tired-looking or aging? Does truth serve there, my friend? Do you tell a child that his first effort at … whatever it may be … is totally without merit? Does it serve to tell a people that many of them are self-centered and lazy? Yet, at times, such is indeed the truth.”

Even truth was subject to the Balance, it seemed, Kharl reflected. He took a slow breath before speaking again. “You told Ghrant what words to say at the audience, didn’t you?”

“Yes. What he said was important. He’s not experienced enough to know what to say, but he is bright enough to understand that he needed the right words. We worked on them together.” Hagen paused. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Should I be?”

“No. You would have been surprised a year ago, but you are not the same man today as you were then.” The lord-chancellor laughed, softly. “Neither am I.”

“I was thinking that I should return to Cantyl before long.”

“You should, but not until Lord Ghrant summons you. That is likely to be tomorrow, but at the moment, I cannot press him.”

“Did today …?”

“Like all young men of privilege, he is of two minds. Part of him is still furious at the effrontery of the rebels, and part of him is grateful to have survived and retained his hold on Austra. I am hoping that he will be the wiser for what he has been through.”

Kharl could sense Hagen’s doubts and concerns. “If he is not?”

“Nothing will happen for years, possibly not until after his death.”

“Or yours,” Kharl suggested.

“That is possible,” Hagen admitted blandly, if honestly. “Unless I can find and train a successor. That will be difficult.”

“I can see that. Most would only see the power, and not the duty.”

“There are some who understand the duty, but they have not the power to rein in a lord, and most who have some power either would not take my position, or they would abuse it, as you have said.” Hagen smiled. “But … there will be time to talk of such for years to come. I had hoped you would join me for a late supper, and if you are not hungry, at least to keep me company.”

Kharl smiled in return. “I might have some supper, at that.”