Ordermaster

LXXVIII

In the late-evening air, misty and damp, Kharl stood in the darkness on the front portico of the envoy’s residence. He could barely see Sestalt, stationed by Demyst on the corner of the portico overlooking the brick drive and the now-closed gate, but the newly retained guard’s presence was more than clear to Kharl’s order-sense.

In the end, after talking matters over with Demyst, Erdyl, and Jeka, Kharl had decided to remain at the residence for a time. While staying was far from good, in the rain and without the support of armsmen or lancers, until he had a better idea of what was going to happen, trying to leave could well place them in a worse position, at least. He was definitely missing such necessities for the road as scouts and supplies. For the moment, at least, he was also in city that he knew.

The rain had subsided into a foggy mist a glass or so past sunset, butthe clouds above remained, and the next few days would likely bring more rain.

There were two concentrations of chaos. One was centered near the harbor, probably at the newer barracks at the old slateyard or at the Hamorian warship. The other was somewhere to the south, near the new south patroller barracks. There was another fainter hint of chaos even farther south, but that might have been seemed fainter because it was at the quarries and more distant, although Kharl was guessing about that. The nearer chaos to the south was moving slowly toward Kharl.

The rain would not help the white wizards, but Egen also faced a trade-off. He needed the rain to slow any reinforcements to his sire and brothers, although, from what Kharl had heard, it was likely that Vielam was also backing Egen. For the moment, Kharl could not tell exactly how far away the chaos might be, except that it had to be several kays away.

“What you doing?”

Kharl jumped slightly. He’d been so intent on tracking the chaos that he’d not paid any attention to his immediate surroundings, and Jeka had seemed to appear from nowhere. “There’s a white wizard heading in our direction, maybe more than one. I was trying to find out how far away he was.”

“Why’d you come back? Really?”

“I had to.”

“Don’t tell me it was for me.”

“I can’t lie about that.” Kharl paused. “I was worried about you and Warrl. For different reasons.” His laugh was soft and bitter. “I really thought Warrl would be mostly safe. I wasn’t sure about you.”

“I was safe.”

“I didn′t know that. I was wrong about both of you. You were safe, and he wasn’t.” Kharl looked out into the darkness, all too aware of Jeka’s warmth and presence.

“Don’t know what to make of it, do you?”

Kharl understood. He also understood that he didn’t have a good answer.

After a silence, Jeka said, “Can’t sleep. Mind if I stay here?”

“I’d like that,” Kharl admitted.

Neither spoke for a time.

Kharl continued to track the white wizards. The one from the harborarea was clearly headed up in the direction of the Quadrancy Keep, while the one from the south was nearing the residence, and was less than a kay away. With him were at least two squads of lancers.

“Jeka, would you go find the undercaptain, and tell him that there are lancers headed our way?”

“I’ll find him.” She turned, then stopped. “You can tell that?”

“Yes.”

Kharl kept tracking the wizards, but, in the few moments that passed before Demyst hurried across the front portico to where Kharl stood, the lancers and the accompanying wizard had not moved that much closer. “Ser? How long before they get here?”

“Somewhere between a quarter glass and half a glass.” Kharl looked through the darkness at Jeka. “Would you wake the retainers, Fundal and all the others, and have them go down to the cellar in the main residence?”

“Not staying there.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll need you for messages.”

Jeka was off.

“Mind of her own, that one,” Demyst said quietly. “Beauty, too, if you look close. She hides it.”

Kharl was all too aware of both.

“How do you want to handle this, ser?”

“They’ve got two squads or so. I don’t think they know who I am. You know what I mean?”

In the darkness, Demyst nodded, then replied belatedly. “They think you’re Lyras, maybe?”

“Something like that. We’ve got a couple of crossbows, don’t we?”

“Three.”

“Why don’t we just wait, and let them get close. I’ll just keep behind the stone pillars there at the corner. If our men can use the third-floor front windows, that might give them an angle.”

“You don’t want to be inside?”

“I can’t do what I need to do if I am.” That was always the problem for Kharl. While he had means of releasing great force or redirecting the chaos of a white wizard, he had to be fairly close to do so.

“I worry … someday, ser …″

“So do I,” replied Kharl.

“I’d best be getting them positioned.” Demyst slipped away into the darkness.

The force approaching the residence through the darkness was less than half a kay downhill, when Jeka reappeared. “Got everyone down in the cellar. Wanted to know why. Told ‘em that Egen sent a white wizard. Better stay down there’less they want to get burned. That right?”

“That’s right.”

“Undercaptain’s got Cevor, Alynar, and Erdyl up top with crossbows. Erdyl said he was a good shot.”

“Probably is.” Kharl felt a slight twinge of something. Jealousy? He was too old to be jealous, and in too much trouble to worry about it. “He doesn’t boast.”

“You don’t, either.”

“I try not to.”

The street and the other dwellings seemed suddenly silent, hushed as if the very structures knew that danger neared.

Kharl thought he heard hoofs on brick, but that might have been his imagination.

He kept waiting until he was certain that the muffled clop-clop-clop was indeed nearing and not something he just thought he heard.

“They’re almost here. Keep down!” he hissed at Jeka.

“I’m down.” She was crouched beneath the low stone half wall that formed the outside edge of the portico around the residence.

As the lancers drew up in the street below the residence, Kharl wondered why they were waiting-and for what. He could sense but a single white wizard, and an effort to collect free chaos.

Four lancers rode toward the gate. Between them they carried some sort of ram-sling that swung into the gate. Thud!

The four backed off, then rode forward again.

With a second thud, the gate, more decorative iron than barrier, broke open, and the four lancers turned their mounts.

As the remainder of the lancers shifted formation in some fashion, Kharl forced himself to remain behind the shelter of the stone. Then something flew past him, and the window behind him and to his left shattered, spraying glass into the residence. Flame flared up. The crossbow bolt had carried chaos.

What could Kharl do? For a moment, he just stared. Then he reached out with his order-senses, and hardened the very air around the chaos-flame, clamping a small order shield around it. The flame died. After a moment, he released both barriers, but the flame did not rekindle.

He could sense another flare of chaos headed toward the residence, and he threw up an order shield. Chaos flared against the shield, lighting the night like a lightning flash that vanished. In that moment, Kharl peered out.

Crack!

He jerked his head back. The lancers had rifles, and they were using them.

Crack! Crack! …

Another chaos-filled bolt smashed through a window to Kharl’s left. This time, he managed to smother it immediately with order and hardened air.

The reports of the rifles came more quickly, and Kharl could feel the bullets flying toward the residence and past him.

What could he do about so many rifles? He hadn’t faced those before, not in such numbers. He tried to think. Rifles meant powder, even if kept within soft iron.

He extended his order-senses, but all but two or three lancers were beyond his reach for what he needed to do, and sweat was already streaming down his face.

Those he could reach would have to do.

All he needed was just to unlink a small bit of the order in the iron … just a small bit. His entire body felt hot, as if he were about to catch fire. Then, the unseen, but strong links began to unravel, and Kharl flattened himself against the stone.

Whhhstt … CRUMPT!!!

The entire residence shook. Flames shot up from the front rank of the lancers, and parts of the trees overhanging the street began to smolder.

A wave of death surged over Kharl.

The lancers were dead, and so were their mounts, so quickly that there were no screams-just ashes and several charred figures of men and horses, those farther away from the point where Kharl had unbound order and released pure deadly chaos.

For all that, Kharl could sense the shields of the white wizard, just beyond his reach. Raising his own shields, he eased sideways across the portico.

″No …″ whispered Jeka.

Kharl kept moving, taking the steps down to the drive.

Whhhstt! A firebolt arced toward him, splashed across his shield.

So much sweat was streaming down his face that his eyes stung, and hecould barely see. He had to get to this white wizard before the man tried to flee. Kharl didn’t want the other white wizards to know any more than they might gather from a distance about him, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with three or four at once. That could happen if this one escaped. Kharl had barely managed two at a time before, and that had been chancy, even with lancers supporting him.

Two firebolts flashed at Kharl, one right after the other. Both sheeted around him. Kharl felt as though he were standing in the middle of one of his coopering fire pots, but he kept walking toward the attacking wizard.

The white wizard was still mounted. Even from fifty cubits away, Kharl could see that he was young. He didn’t look that much older than Erdyl. A look of surprise had appeared on his face as he saw Kharl walking through the gate that the lancers had battered open.

Whhstt! Another firebolt flared toward Kharl, spraying around him as he walked forward, readying his own attack.

With the next firebolt, Kharl created the shield that deflected the chaos back at the young wizard, then struck by hardening the air around the man.

The wizard froze in the saddle, then slowly toppled sideways. A flicker of chaos whispered toward Kharl, then died as the younger man struck the bricks of the street. Kharl still had to hold the hardened air shield for a time before the other man died.

He took a deep breath. He still knew of no way to capture chaos-wizards-not that would keep them from escaping. From what he knew, he wasn’t sure that there was a way. Or maybe he just didn’t know enough.

When he released the shield, the figure of the wizard, young as he had looked, shimmered, and disintegrated into dust.

Kharl turned and trudged back to the residence.

Demyst and Jeka were waiting on the portico-both shielded by stone pillars.

“Ser?” asked Demyst.

“They’re dead. All of them.” Kharl sank onto the half wall, half-sitting, half-leaning. White points of light flickered in and out of his vision. “Need to eat, drink. In case someone else comes.” He straightened slowly, then walked into the residence.

He hadn’t done that much heavy magery recently, and it showed. He also hadn’t eaten that much the night before, and that hadn’t helped, either. So many things to think about.

Demyst headed up to the third level. Kharl knew someone up therehad died, and he hoped that it hadn’t been Erdyl. Then, he hadn’t wanted anyone to die.

He settled into a chair in the breakfast nook.

Jeka reappeared with a wedge of cheese and some bread. “You want lager?”

“Please.”

“The others can come up from below?”

Kharl nodded, then, realizing she might not see the movement in the darkened room, added, “Yes. Won’t be anything happening for a while.”

Kharl sat in the darkness, slowly chewing some bread. His mouth was so dry he was having trouble swallowing, and he was grateful when Jeka reappeared with a pitcher of lager. She found a beaker and filled it. He took a careful swallow, then sliced a piece of cheese off the wedge with his belt knife. He had trouble holding the knife, but managed.

As Kharl slipped the cheese into his mouth, Demyst entered the breakfast room, followed by Erdyl.

“They shot Cevor,” the undercaptain said.

“I’m sorry. I felt it. I didn’t know who, though.”

“One man … against forty-odd of theirs and a white wizard-there was only one, wasn’t there?”

“Just one.” Kharl took another sip of lager. The worst of his weakness and light-headedness was beginning to subside. “Hate to lose even one of our own. The thing with the chaos-bolts and the windows. Hadn′t seen that before.”

“What?”

“The windows they broke …” Kharl went on to explain how the bolts had been infused with chaos to set the residence on fire. “ … probably wanted the place ablaze so that they could pick off people trying to escape.”

“Sounds like the Hamorians,” said Demyst.

“More like Egen.” Jeka’s voice was hard.

“He wasn′t with them, I don’t think,” Kharl said.

“‘A course not. Let someone else do the dirt,” Jeka replied.

That would only work for a while-at least Kharl hoped so. Eventually, he needed to face Egen, if only for his own sake.

After a time, Jeka, seated across from him, asked, “You … you coulda done this before?”

“No. I didn’t know I could. The staff started it, but I never knew.” Kharlsmiled sadly. “A lot of lancers and armsmen died because it took me a while to learn what I know.”

“More of’em lived than would have otherwise,” suggested the undercaptain.

In fact, he and Demyst were both correct, but it didn’t make Kharl feel that much better about it.

LXXIX

By just after dawn, and only a few glasses of sleep, not only could Kharl still smell smoke, and the ashes of burned men and mounts-and foliage, but despite the clouds, he could also see a pall of thick gray smoke still rising from somewhere near the top of the hill. The only place it could have come from was from the Quadrancy Keep. Whether Osten or Ostcrag had survived was another question, but that speculation could wait. Regardless of that, Kharl needed to deal with Egen and the Hamorians, especially the Hamorians.

Alynar was standing watch out front, and one of Demyst’s guards in the rear, as Erdyl, Demyst, Kharl, and Jeka ate hurriedly in the breakfast room.

“How many men do we have?” Kharl asked Demyst.

“We lost Cevor, and Sestalt’s pretty bruised. Why?”

“We’re going after Egen.”

“Better’n sitting here any longer.”

“We couldn’t start a war. Egen started it,” Kharl said. “We can try to make it very short.”

“Why didn′t-″ Erdyl broke off his words.

Kharl understood the unspoken remainder of the question, and he didn’t have the best answers. He hadn’t wanted to overreact to Egen’s evil viciousness. He hadn′t really understood what being an envoy was all about. He’d worried about setting up a situation where all the rulers of the Quadrancy and Candar would back Hamor in invading Austra-because Austra, in the person of Kharl, had tried to upset the established order in Nordla. Worst of all, while he had understood how evil Egen truly was,Kharl hadn’t realized the true depth of Egen’s ambition until the last few days.

“Because,” was all he said.

“Lord Kharl’s been here less than three eightdays,” Demyst pointed out. “Not very long to learn what’s happening and do something about it. Especially when we got no lancers or armsmen, and Egen’s got wizards and his own private army.″

“Envoys aren’t supposed to bring private armies,” Kharl said dryly. “We’re just supposed to watch and report.” Had it been less than three eightdays? He felt as though he’d been back in Nordla forever. He forced himself to eat another helping of egg toast, followed by a healthy swallow of the too-tart early cider.

“Where are we headed, ser, if I might ask?”

“To the south barracks, the ones out by the new road, just south of the city.” Kharl had already used his order-senses to determine that there were no chaos-wizards remaining at the new harbor barracks, or anywhere around the harbor, and the chaos that surrounded them appeared to have come from the south. He was guessing, but he didn’t think the white wizards who had been at the quarry fort had joined Egen’s patrollers. He didn’t know about the wizard who’d been in the Quadrancy Keep before, either, except that he wasn’t there any longer.

Demyst frowned.

“He’ll be there. Or his patrollers will be. That’s where his golds are. If he’s not there, he’ll be at the fort off the east road.”

“Why there?” asked Erdyl.

“That’s where they can block any lancers from the north and east who might support Ostcrag and Osten.”

“Do we know if they’re still alive?”

“I’d guess that at least one of them is. If they were both dead, Egen and the white wizards would already be holding the Quadrancy Keep.”

“What about the other son-Vielam?″

“I don’t know. He favors Egen, I’ve heard. Doesn’t matter, though. Either Ostcrag survived the attack on the Quadrancy Keep, or one of the older sons did. Otherwise, Brysta would be crawling with patrollers and white wizards.”

Jeka grimaced, but said nothing.

Kharl rose. “We’d better get ready.” He turned to Khelaya, standing inthe archway to the kitchen. “We’ll need some provisions, and I’ll need a hefty bag, and my water bottles filled with cider.”

A quizzical look momentarily crossed the older cook’s face.

Demyst raised his eyebrows in a different inquiry.

“It’s not much of a secret now,” Kharl said. “I’m an order-mage. I can’t keep using magery without eating a lot.”

“After last night, it had to be something like sorcery,” Khelaya said. “Never seen anything like that.”

Behind Khelaya stood Enelya, and the serving girl’s mouth opened. She shut it quickly, and her eyes went to Jeka, who gave the slightest of headshakes.

“We’ll make sure you have enough,” added the cook.

“Thank you.” Kharl hurried up to his chamber, where he donned a black riding jacket and quickly washed, before heading down and out to the stables. As he crossed the stretch of gardens, he glanced up. The clouds had lifted some, but had also darkened slightly, suggesting more rain later.

Mantar had the chestnut gelding saddled and waiting for Kharl. Demyst and Alynar were packing provisions into their saddlebags. Erdyl had already mounted, as had Sestalt, bruised as he was. Enelya stood to the side, holding several more bags.

Kharl looked to the serving girl.

“Jeka already packed yours, ser,” Enelya said quickly, not meeting Kharl’s eyes.

Kharl followed her glance to the side of the stable yard. Jeka was already mounted. She wore a gray jacket, and she’d cut her hair boy-short once more. Before Kharl could say a word, she spoke. “I’m going. I can run messages. Do stuff.”

Kharl didn′t say anything. He just stood there for a long moment. He didn′t want Jeka anywhere near the fighting.

“Don’t leave people,” she added. “Told you that once.”

She had. More than once. And Kharl had let Merayni take Warrl away for his son’s safety. Warrl and Merayni were dead. Who could protect Jeka at the residence if Egen sent men after her? He didn’t like the idea of her coming with them … but … with all the chaos and Egen′s viciousness, she well might be safer with him.

Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Stay out of the direct fighting. Thank you for taking care of the provisions.”

“Yes, ser. You got two bottles, both filled with the cider. I got three bottles, case anyone needs some.”

“Good.” Before mounting, Kharl used his order-senses to make sure that the saddlebags were indeed filled, but did not touch them, not wishing to suggest that he doubted Enelya or Jeka.

As was all too often the case, he was the last mounted. He looked to Khelaya and Mantar. “Take care.”

“That we will, ser.”

Kharl eased the gelding forward and past the side of the residence. As he rode past the sagging gates, he studied the street. The on-and-off rain of the night and early morning had dampened the ashes into a black-and-gray paste that mottled the ancient yellow bricks, but the few charred lumps that had been the men and mounts not totally turned to ash by Kharl′s magery had disappeared. Marks in the sodden ash indicated that a wagon had been used. Kharl suspected that Mantar and the gardener had taken care of that. He could worry about that later. He looked back at the residence. He still worried about those remaining in the residence, but Mantar insisted that they’d be safe, and that they could retreat to the cellar if need be.

“Don’t wait,” Kharl had said.

“No, ser, but there’s just ash out there now,” Mantar had explained with a smile. “A bit more rain, and no one’ll see anything except some blackened trees, and that happens when lightning strikes.”

Thinking about it, Kharl wasn’t so sure that the groom-driver wasn’t better prepared than Kharl was. Once well into the street, the envoy-mage turned the gelding downhill, then, at the next street, southward.

Demyst moved up alongside Kharl. “City’s quiet this morning. Can’t say I’d expect otherwise.”

“Everyone’s hiding and waiting.”

“What’ll we be facing?”

“Several companies of lancers, and two or three white wizards. Maybe more of either.”

“We have to do this?”

“We don’t, and our children will be fighting Hamor in Austra.” After he’d spoken, Kharl realized that he didn’t have children, not any longer, and Demyst had never had any. “Or all those who do have children will.”

“Sad choice, ser.”

“Most are,” replied Kharl dryly.

As he rode, his eyes and senses alert, Kharl felt-more than once-the brush of chaos that meant a white wizard was trying to keep track of him. From what he could tell, all the white wizards around Brysta were in the same place to the south-unless one was using chaos-skills to hide himself.

He wanted to look back and see how Jeka was doing, but decided against it although he wasn’t certain he liked that she was riding with Erdyl. Then, he had his doubts about her coming, except that her staying behind might be even worse.

Ahead, near where the side street joined the south road, a young man looked at the riders, then sprinted across the bricks and into a single-story dwelling, whose shutters were closed. For just a moment, the echo of the slammed door drowned out the clopping of hoofs.

As they neared the southeast side of Brysta, the bricks of the south street gave way to the packed clay. Each step of the gelding threw up some mud. Because few had traveled the road since the rains had begun the day before, only parts of the road were muddy, and there were but a handful of deep wagon ruts.

On the less-traveled and unpaved section of the south road beyond the city, a company of lancers would churn up the road enough to stop any wagon, and after the first two or three companies traveled it, the later riders would have great difficulty traveling with any speed, and the lower-lying sections would become, if not impassable, places where men and mounts bunched into groups making their way through slowly.

“Road’s going to be slow from here on,” observed Demyst.

“It’s only a kay or so.” Kharl studied the small plots that were neither true holdings nor just gardens that now bordered the road.

To the east of the winding road, the low hills were covered with rocky meadows, and dotted with woodlots and odd-shaped fields. Farther ahead, the road turned due south to skirt the long ridge that overlooked the new patroller barracks and camp.

Kharl held up his hand and reined up. Somewhere ahead, coming up the back side of the hill just ahead, were lancers, more than a few, but not an entire company. “Close in! Right behind me!”

Before he finished his orders, the half squad of Hamorian lancers reined up on the low rise of a field to the east of the road and less than a quarter kay south of where Kharl had halted. As he watched, they drew weapons, blades he thought, until they raised them to their shoulders. More rifles.

Kharl hardened a space of air just in front of him.

Crack! Crack! …

The reports of the rifles sounded muffled. Abruptly, Kharl could feel the force of bullets on the air shield, leaching away some of his strength, if only a slight bit.

As quickly as they had come, the lancers wheeled, then rode back over the rise.

Kharl released the shield. He reached for his water bottle and took it out, taking a long swallow of the still-cool cider before corking it and replacing it in its holder.

“Why’d they do that?” asked Demyst.

“To tire me out,” Kharl replied.

He sat in the saddle, thinking. The rifles changed everything, at least in the open field. Facing sabres or even crossbows, he could get close enough to use his order-magery-or his disorder-magery. With the white wizards tracking him with their sorcery, he couldn’t use a sight shield to get closer without the lancers seeing him-and they could keep firing at him until he was exhausted before he could ever get close enough-on the road or open ground.

He glanced toward the ridge ahead and took in the woodlots. From what he recalled, there was a narrow road through the ridge from the east. The ridge was steep enough that the lancers and patrollers couldn’t fire directly at him and his small party without getting close-very close.

“Ser?” asked the undercaptain.

“We’ll have to leave the road. We’re headed up toward that ridge, using the hills and woodlots for cover.” Kharl turned the gelding off the road and through a gap in the low stone wall that bordered the meadow.

He kept his order-senses looking for lancers, or patrollers, but could not sense any as they rode up the sloping meadow almost directly east. A slight gust of wind swept across them, bringing a few scattered drops of rain, then died away, as did the rain droplets.

As they reached the first woodlot, Kharl could sense no one near the trees, but to the south, another squad of lancers-or the same squad-was using the lower ground between the hill and the ridge as an approach to the road-to try another attack. Kharl smiled, because by the time the lancers reached a point overlooking the road, their quarry would be to the east and south of them, and the lancers would have to ride uphill to catch Kharl.

Still, he didn′t like the fact there were lancers between him and the ridge.

The woodlot ended just short of the flat hillcrest, and Kharl reined up while still in the trees, looking southward.

“We could follow these hills. There’s that other road,” Demyst said, pointing to the brown track a good kay to the south. “Cross the road and follow those hills on the south till we get to the gap in the ridge.”

Kharl nodded. At least until they reached the road, they would either be in the trees or close enough to cover, and mostly on higher ground than any attacker. He had to remember that his goal was not necessarily to kill lancers, or patrollers, but to get close enough to kill Egen and the white wizards.

They covered another half kay to the south before a company of mounted patrollers rode eastward on the narrow road through the ridge gap. Behind them were what looked to be several oblong, canvas-covered carts.

Kharl looked farther south. The next hill had an escarpment of gray stone that faced south and slightly west, and looked to afford some protection, at least for men on foot, and they could tie the mounts farther back in the woodlot.

“Can we make it to that next hill there, you think?” Kharl asked the undercaptain.

“Easy, ser. Won’t even take more than a fast walk. That grass down there is long, and the ground’s soft. Harder here near the crest. You thinking about that rock there.” Demyst grinned.

“I was. Is there something wrong with it?”

“Not so long as we don’t let’em circle to the southeast and come up through the woodlot. Could trap us then.”

“We could have Jeka watch back there.”

“Might be a good idea.”

Kharl urged the gelding forward.

Demyst was right. Kharl and the five other riders reined up just above the jagged upthrust gray rocks before the patrollers had stopped riding the road. There were far more than Kharl had realized-a good three companies. The mage turned in the saddle. “Jeka?”

The former urchin and weaver rode slowly toward Kharl, then reined up. Kharl thought that she was far more graceful on horseback than he was, even though she’d only ridden twice in her life.

“You want something, ser?”

“You said you wanted to be helpful. We need some help.” Kharl pointed to the southeast. “We’re going to see if they attack us here. We don’t want someone sneaking up the back side of the hill on us. Can you ride over to the edge of the woodlot there, on the higher ground, and keep watch. If they start something like that, ride back, but don’t come out of the woods. Just call out and let us know.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“You want me to go now?”

“Be best if she does, ser,” suggested Demyst.

“If you would,” Kharl said to Jeka.

She turned the horse and rode steadily up the gentle slope until she was riding beside the trees.

After watching her for a long moment, Kharl turned his mount uphill toward the nearest part of the woodlot. By the time he had had tethered his mount well back in the woodlot, remembering to pull out his provisions bag, all three companies of mounted patrollers were drawn up on the flat to the north of the narrow road. Kharl hurried back downhill and into a position behind the rocks. Behind the patrollers, surrounded by two squads of lancers in the tan uniforms of Hamor, were the white wizards-three from what Kharl could tell.

“Like as they were waiting for us,” muttered Alynar from the rear.

Kharl had no doubts that they had been, not after having felt one of the wizards tracking them. He still didn’t understand why the patrollers and wizards were going to attack him. “If they waited,” he murmured, “we’d have to come to them.”

“Ser,” said Demyst, with a crooked smile, “they don′t know that. Best we don’t tell them.”

Still, Kharl wondered as he peered out through a gap in the gray rock. He would have liked to have gotten closer to the barracks as well. Something was happening behind the patrollers, with the carts, but Kharl couldn′t see exactly what it was. The mounted patrollers, their lines dressed, moved forward slowly across the flat, but less than a third of a kay before halting once more. That left them at the base of the slope, a quarter kay downhill from Kharl and his small party. Kharl could see that these patrollers also had rifles-every last patroller.

Thwump! Soil and rock and mangled vegetation exploded from the ground less than a hundred cubits below and to the right of Kharl.

“Cannon,” murmured Demyst. “Friggin’ cannon.”

What could Kharl do about cannon? If they tried to reach their mounts … at least some of them, if not all of them, might get shot … or run down. And Kharl couldn’t do magery on the run, either.

Thwump!

The second blast was to the left, but more like seventy cubits away.

Kharl forced himself to concentrate on the cannon. While they were too far away for him to affect with his order-senses, he had felt the mixture of chaos and order that had accompanied the shell and the explosion. Was there any way to channel that? To turn it back?

He could sense the expansion of chaos and the near-instant flight of the next shell-and it landed less than fifty cubits directly in front of the rock outcropping. Soil and rock fragments sprayed above his head.

“Ser?”

“I’m working on it!” Kharl snapped. There had been a channel of order and chaos, the path that the shell had taken.

Kharl watched and waited, sensing the next shell.

The moment before it exploded, he focused all the energy, order and chaos, back along the flight path.

What seemed like a brownish red streak flashed back at the cannon, half-burying the weapon in rock and soil, and hurling the cannoneers aside. Kharl sensed at least one death, but focused his efforts on the second weapon.

This time, he not only returned the explosive force, but boosted it with a touch of released chaos-enough so that the second cannon, and the shells beside it, exploded in a gout of flame.

Cannoneers fled from the third and remaining cannon.

Kharl sat down, slightly light-headed. He took a swallow of the cider and tore at the bread. After several mouthfuls, he looked over at Demyst. “Tell me if, or when, they start to ride uphill.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl kept eating, biting a chunk out of the hard cheese, glad that there had only been three cannon, and that the cannoneers of the third had fled. The effort of handling just two shells had almost exhausted him.

“Those Hamorian lancers, the ones in tan,” Demyst said, “they’re riding across the flat up behind the patrollers.”

Kharl could sense the growing mass of chaos on the flat below the slope. He took a last swallow of the cider and stood. Most of the light-headedness had subsided.

As he looked down through the rocks, he could see the patrollers beginning to spread out into a wider line, with more space beside each rider. None of them moved forward.

Kharl could sense three white wizards, but the three had linked somehow.

A single trumpet triplet sounded, and the patrollers started riding uphill. Their tactics were simple enough. Each patroller rode, then slowed and fired, then rode more quickly. The erratic nature of the advance would have made it difficult for anyone with a rifle or a crossbow to fire back effectively. But since Kharl and his small group had neither, the only effect was to make them to keep their heads down. And with fire coming from such a wide front, Kharl couldn′t erect a hardened air shield that would be strong enough and broad enough to protect them-not without exhausting himself within a fraction of a glass.

Whhssttt! A chaos-bolt arced uphill, aimed directly at Kharl. Caught half-off guard, he could only deflect it, but he was ready for the second one, and using the linkage back to the white wizard, he turned it back.

Instead of slipping inside the white wizard’s shields, it splashed across the linked shields of the three.

Kharl swallowed. He hadn’t thought about that effect. The back-linkage didn’t exist for the other two, and by linking their shields, they effectively blocked his technique.

Whhstt! Another firebolt flared uphill.

Knowing that the whites’ shields would hold, Kharl just redirected the chaos across the first rank of the patrollers, who were within three hundred cubits of Kharl.

Death voids washed across Kharl, and he staggered. He’d never gotten used to dealing death, not really.

Whhhsttt!

Whhhstt!

The firebolts kept coming, one after the other. Kharl kept throwing them aside and across the ranks of the patrollers.

“That’s the last of’em, ser!” announced Demyst. “The patrollers, I mean.”

Kharl was well aware of that. He was also aware that he was light-headed, and having trouble seeing.

The three white wizards and their Hamorian lancer guards hadremained beyond his own effective range for unbinding order and releasing chaos-or for hardening air. If they kept flinging firebolts, sooner or later, they’d break through his defenses. Kharl couldn′t think of what else he could do. He couldn’t make his way downhill undetected.

He stopped. He didn’t have to make his way downhill undetected. With the patrollers and the cannon gone, all he needed was to get closer to the white wizards.

After diverting another chaos-bolt, Kharl turned to his left and scuttled from point to point behind the rocks until he was at a gap that he could take straight downhill.

He almost stepped through the gap when he saw the squad of lancers flanking the white wizards, all three mounted. Wearily, Kharl called up a sight shield, and moved through the rocks and down onto the grass, trying to move in a zigzag fashion, and not trip because he could not see, except through his order-senses.

He could only hope that by the time the wizards explained to the lancers where he was and the lancers got out their rifles, he’d be close enough-

He stumbled and pitched forward, releasing the sight shield for a moment to right himself, and catch a glimpse of a flatter slope to his left.

Crack! Crack!

He thought he felt something fly by, and he staggered back to his right, heading downhill, covering yet another fifty or sixty cubits.

Whhsst!

He parried/deflected the firebolt, and kept moving.

Sweat was running into his eyes, and he was seeing flashes across the darkness through which he stumbled and shambled downhill. He could tell he was getting almost close enough.

“See that dust! Fire there, or charge him! Do something!”

Kharl half jumped, half flung himself sideways in his own private darkness, then charged downhill, reaching out toward one of the lancers closest to the wizard on the left.

The vibration in the ground told him he didn’t have much time.

Desperately, he reached for a chunk of soft iron in the lancer’s cartridge belt, using his senses to unlink it.

Eeeeeeee …

A terrible whining screeched at him, through him, as he fumbled at unlinking the iron in more cartridges … as many as he could.

Then chaos flared, and with his last strength, frantically, he tried to throw up his own shields.

Redness, whiteness …

… and hot blackness flashed over him, and swallowed everything.