Wellspring of Chaos

XC

About midmorning on threeday, a youngster in a yellow tunic with black cuffs appeared at Kharl’s door, with a neatly folded set of garments in his arms.

“Master Kharl, ser?”

“Yes?”

“These are for you, ser. For the audience with Lord Ghrant, ser. At the first glass of the afternoon, ser.”

“Thank you.” Kharl took the garments.

“I’ll be here to escort you, ser.” Then, after those words, the young man was gone.

Kharl closed the door and looked down at the garments-a silksheen silver shirt, black trousers, and a black jacket of fine and soft wool. They had clearly been tailored to his measurements and presumably were his to keep.

He shook his head. Never had he owned such finery-nor needed it.

What would happen at the audience? What did Kharl have to say to Lord Ghrant? What he could have said-such as the fact that he didn’t think much of the discipline of the Austran forces or of Ghrant’s personal guard-were not things that would have been wise to voice, and he’d already said them to the lancer officers.

He also wasn’t pleased with the idea of bowing and scraping to Ghrant, who’d have been far better off to listen to Hagen from the beginning rather than having been forced to do so by events. Then, Kharl could always hope that Ghrant would be generous, although he had his doubts about that characteristic in rulers-or their offspring.

Kharl looked at the garments once more, then shrugged and laid them on the bed. After a moment, he began to disrobe. He might as well try on the new clothes. Not surprisingly, they fit well, and he looked almost impressive when he studied his reflection in the mirror above the chest set against the inner wall of the spacious chamber that had remained his.

Neither his pondering nor his pacing yielded more answers, and after several long glasses, the youth in yellow reappeared at his door. Wordlessly, Kharl followed him along the main corridor of the southern wing, up the main staircase in the middle of the sprawling structure, then along another white-walled corridor that ended in a single golden oak door. While the door was modest, there were two burly guards in the yellow and black.

“Master Kharl, the mage, here to see Lord Ghrant,” offered the youth.

“We know, Bethem,” said the shorter guard, smiling paternally before he turned and knocked. “The mage, ser.”

After a moment, the words came back. “Show him in.”

The guard who had not spoken opened the door, and Kharl stepped inside, into a study with wide windows opening to the north and west, with but a single case filled with books. The door closed behind him, almost silently, with just the faintest click.

The blond lord sat behind a wide desk of golden oak, unadorned, without a single carving.

“Lord Ghrant.” Kharl inclined his head, politely, but not too deeply.

“Can’t have too much formality here, not with a man who destroyed my enemies, then dragged and carried me to safety.” Ghrant gestured to the straight-backed chairs before the desk.

Kharl took the one in the shade, so that he could see Ghrant more clearly, without the afternoon sun that poured into the room getting in his eyes.

“You present a problem, Master Kharl. A happy one, but one requiring a solution. I cannot offer you what I owe you, and that is Austra. Nor even a fraction of that.” A rueful smile followed the words.

Kharl waited. He wasn’t about to offer Ghrant an easy way out. Self-denying graciousness did not count for much with those in power. That he had learned.

“Lord Hagen has suggested that your service is worth a small estate, a stipend, and a minor lordship. It was worth more than that, but we have conferred and feel that, with your talents, those are more appropriate, with certain…adjustments I think you will find useful. Lord Hagen will tell you of those details at your convenience. But from this point on, you hold the lands of Cantyl, and shall formally be addressed as ‘Ser Kharl.’” Ghrant smiled broadly. “You will also receive your first purse from him later this afternoon.”

“You are most kind, ser.” Kharl, although wary, could sense neither malice nor deception.

“Most grateful, Ser Kharl.” Ghrant cleared his throat. “Lord Hagen will brief you on the details, but I did want to express my gratitude to you personally. My lady also conveys her thanks, as do my sons.” Ghrant smiled, an expression both warm, polished, and somehow tired, then stood.

Kharl rose as well. “I am glad I was able to be of service, and I am very glad that you remain Lord of Austra.”

“Let us hope that all my subjects come to that happy conclusion as well, ser Kharl.”

When Kharl stepped out of the study, Hagen was waiting.

“Ser Kharl.”

“Lord-chancellor.” Kharl inclined his head.

“We need to discuss a few more details. Lord Ghrant is often brief to the point of being cryptic.” Hagen’s smile was rueful. “Filling in those details seems to be a large part of being lord-chancellor.”

Kharl followed Hagen a good fifty cubits down the corridor to another unmarked door, which opened into a very small chamber holding but a circular table and four chairs, and a narrow, east-facing window.

Hagen did not sit down after he closed the door. “Lord Ghrant and I came to an agreement. Cantyl is set on and adjoining a headland southeast of Valmurl. The lands succeeded to Lord Estloch several years ago, but they are near none of his holdings. They consist of a small but good vineyard, some excellent timberlands, one small and fertile valley, and some most rocky hills, which provide a certain isolation. I thought you might appreciate the timberlands and possibly the isolation. There is just one rough road that eventually winds to Valmurl, but a very good, if small, natural harbor. The lands are well managed, and those who do so would like to stay. And there will be a considerable stipend for five years, and a modest one thereafter.”

Kharl nodded. He was not quite sure what to say.

Hagen produced a plain leather purse. “Your stipend is one hundred golds a year for the first five years, and fifty thereafter for the following ten. This holds an additional fifty, not counted against the stipend, for your expenses and travel to Cantyl.”

Kharl managed not to swallow. He’d never seen twenty-five golds at one time, let alone fifty, and probably never held more than ten at once ever-and the purse was only incidental.

“Lord Ghrant does not anticipate this, but would wish to reserve the right to call upon your services occasionally.”

That did make sense, unfortunately.

“You’re still not sure whether you’d want to go back to Brysta, if you could, are you?” asked Hagen. “Master and Ser Kharl.”

“No…” Kharl paused. “I’d thought about it, but I’m certainly not welcome there.” He smiled wryly. “I had thought about staying in Austra-but as a cooper. I’d never thought…”

“I hadn’t either, when you asked me for passage,” Hagen replied.

“Strange…” mused Kharl.

Hagen laughed. “You should have been a lord in Brysta, but Lord Ghrant’s powers do not extend that far.”

“Why did you press my case so far with Lord Ghrant?” Kharl asked.

“There are several reasons. First, Lord Ghrant must understand that loyalty is rewarded. I can say such, but if I do not press for it, then my words mean little. Also, you’re a powerful mage, Kharl. But you need to know more to use that power effectively. Whether you choose to stay here-and if you do, and you learn what you must-I’d not be surprised if Lord Ghrant would call on you for aid and advice, and you will serve yourself and those around you far better for having a standing well gained in battle…”

Kharl could sense the caution in Hagen, and he almost laughed. Even Hagen was worried about his power. The laughter died within him as he considered what that meant. Would he have to worry about everyone now? Whether they would use him and his powers, or try to manipulate him from afar, through others?

“I can see you understand,” Hagen said.

“I almost did not,” Kharl confessed.

“The Seastag is leaving tomorrow for Valmurl. I’ve arranged for Furwyl to make a stop at Cantyl. They’ll be expecting you.”

“Who will?”

“The estate steward. That’s Speltar. Lord Ghrant sent a messenger informing him an eightday ago.”

“Lord Ghrant…or you?” asked Kharl wryly.

“I did have something to do with it, but he had to accept my recommendation.”

“I hope it didn’t cost you too much.”

“Nothing at all. He’d much rather be indebted to you than, say, Lord Deroh.”

The name meant nothing to Kharl.

“Oh…and you’ll be traveling as a passenger. As an honored passenger in my quarters.”

“I couldn’t take…” Kharl paused. “You won’t be on board?”

“No. I’ll be with Lord Ghrant and his family…riding in triumph back across Austra.”

Kharl realized something else. By not accompanying Lord Ghrant, his role in saving the lord would be diminished. There were advantages and disadvantages to that for him, but clearly only advantages for Ghrant.

“So that he can show his banner and reassure everyone?”

“That is most necessary,” Hagen affirmed. “Long and tiring as the journey will be by road.”

“The crew won’t mind me as a passenger?”

“Not at all. They know you saved us all from having to leave Austra, and they’re more than ready to leave Dykaru and to get back to Valmurl.” Hagen smiled. “I’m famished. Are you ready to join me in a quiet meal? With no discussion about rulers and their duties?”

Kharl was.