Ordermaster

XLVIII

After the first eightday in the Hall of Justice, spent entirely in the library reading, Kharl wasn’t sure that he understood any more than when he had first walked inside. He knew more, but the knowledge had not yet deepened his understanding. At least, he didn’t think so. His routine was simple. He spent the morning there, rode back to the Great House for a midday meal, then returned and studied some more until close to sunset. The last half glass or so was spent with Jusof.

On fiveday evening he walked slowly into the dining chamber in the Great House. For a moment, he did not recognize anyone. Then he saw Norgen and Casolan seated at the larger table. They had ales before them, but no platters.

Casolan gestured. “If you would join us, Lord Kharl …″

“I would not intrude.”

“You’d not be intruding,” said the square-faced Casolan. “In fact, we insist.”

Norgen nodded agreement.

Kharl sat down, gratefully. He hadn′t been looking forward to eating alone. He’d been doing that too often, of late.

“An ale”-Norgen glanced from the serving girl to Kharl-“it is an ale, isn’t it?”

“Pale ale, please.”

“A pale ale for Lord Kharl.”

“Yes, sers.”

“You don’t get to choose tonight,” Casolan said. “It’s stew. Only stew. They had problems in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine.” Kharl looked at the two commanders. Both had circles under their eyes and appeared thinner than when he had left Valmurl. “How are matters with you both?”

The two officers exchanged glances. Then Casolan burst into a laugh, and Norgen shook his head, his lips twisted into a wry expression.

“We’ve had to recruit more armsmen and lancers, and retrain most of those who remained,” Casolan finally said. “Half the new lancers think horses are wasted on anything but plowing. Half the junior officers have had full stables and have no idea about the need to pace a mount.”

“Not half,” suggested Norgen. “Just too many.”

“The ones who know blades fancy themselves duelists, and those who don′t treat a sabre like an ax.” Casolan took a swallow of his ale, almost finishing the beaker.

“None of them think that they really need training, because wars don′t happen often, and we’ve just finished one,” Norgen added. “They don’t see that training and discipline are necessary for more than just fighting. Some of them don’t even see the need for training to fight. They just think that you charge with your mount and swing wildly at anything in sight.”

The three paused as the server returned with another round of ales, and with three bowls of the stew-and two baskets of bread, only rye.

“No dark bread,” observed Casolan. “What’s stew without it?”

“I’m so sorry, ser,” offered the serving girl, “but the molasses ran out …”

“It’s not your fault,” Casolan said politely. “It’s probably not even the cook’s fault.”

“No, ser. It’s not. Thank you.” Before anyone could say anything else, she bowed and hurried off.

“What’s the problem?” asked Kharl.

“The lord-chancellor discovered that the provisions steward for the Great House was, shall we say, taking a small portion of the accounts for his own uses. Some of the holders had not been paid in eightdays for supplies delivered here. Everything below the stairs is being looked at, and not everything has been ordered as it should have been because the steward kept it all to himself.”

“So that no one would know what he was doing?” suggested Kharl.

Norgen nodded. “When someone wants to do everything by himself, it’s a good wager that he either doesn’t trust those working for him or that he’s up to no good. Neither is a good sign.”

Kharl understood that. Even as a cooper, if he couldn’t train his sons or apprentices to be trusted, he wouldn’t have been much of a crafter. “So the Great House has a new provisions steward, and he’s having trouble finding everything?”

“So I hear. It doesn’t help that some of the holders were favored with a few extra coins, and not because their provender was of better quality.”

“It’s going to take a while before the lord-chancellor can work things out,” interjected Casolan.

Kharl did not envy Hagen.

“Where have you been?” asked Norgen.

Kharl debated momentarily about what he should say, then replied. “I’ve been studying law at the Hall of Justice.”

“Law?” Casolan frowned.

“The lord-chancellor thought it might be helpful. I’m not sure yet, but I think I’ve learned a bit more about how Austra really works.”

“I can see how that might be helpful for a mage,” observed Norgen. “Whatever you do may affect someone.”

“Glad it’s not me,” said Casolan, after a mouthful of stew. “Just as soon stay away from the Hall of Justice. You have to settle things there, and it’s already more trouble than anyone should want.”

“What have you learned?” asked Norgen.

“Mostly, that clerks and advocates and justicers write down everything, and that their writing is very small.”

Both commanders laughed.