After a while longer, Kharl nodded and stepped back, thinking as he began to walk back through the warm noon sunlight toward the small dining room. The Basis of Order had been right. There was a connection or a tie. That suggested that the linkage might be used. Could it be a way back through the white wizard’s shields? How could he find out?
He laughed, briefly. There wasn’t any way to find out, not short of trying, and failure could be costly, and probably deadly.
He turned toward the small dining room. Whatever might happen, he needed to eat, and he needed to make sure he had plenty of provisions on the ride-or campaign-against the rebels and the Hamorians.
XXVII
Fourday found Kharl back in the saddle before dawn, in the green-and-black uniform of an Austran armsman, riding with Undercaptain Demyst and his squad on a side road at the south edge of the Nierran Hills, not all that far from Lyras’s cottage. Kharl smiled briefly as he recalled the meeting with the older mage in the small cottage of red sandstone, with its glass windows and green-painted shutters and front door. Lyras had offered refreshments, hospitality, and almost no advice, except how to determine where Kharl’s skills might lie. While he had always suspected the reason for that, Kharl was truly beginning to understand why. Handling of order-or of chaos-had to come from understanding, and that could never be taught, only experienced.
There was barely enough space for two mounts abreast on the clay track that wound under the sandstone cliffs on the north side of the fast-moving and swirling dark waters of the rod-wide stream. The road was no more than two cubits above the spring runoff. Immediately to the south of the stream were low meadows, some of which were still partly underwater, and beyond them a long sloping expanse of firs along the north side of a narrow ridge. South beyond the ridge, Kharl knew, were the open hills that rolled down toward the northeastern part of Valmurl. Those hills held kay upon kay of orchards and berry patches.
Once again, Demyst rode alongside Kharl. The square-faced captain looked morosely ahead, into the lighter gray sky to the east. “This circles north of the main road, comes out where the stream joins the Fahsa. That’s a bit west of Ghalmat. Should be there well before the rebels.” Demyst paused. “Should be. No telling until then, though.”
“The Hamorians are still somewhere to the east of Ghalmat,” noted Kharl. “They’re not moving that fast.” He could sense the two focal points of chaos, even though they were several kays to the south and east. Both were far stronger than the white wizards he had faced before, although the lesser chaos-focus was not that much stronger than the last white wizard.But that was the lesser of the two, and he had no idea if the two might even be hiding part of their power, the way the last white wizard had, and as Kharl was attempting.
Kharl could also sense Lyras and the comparatively faint but solid black order around the older mage. Lyras was stronger than he claimed, Kharl was convinced, but still nowhere near as powerful as he needed to be-not if the older mage had to hold off the oncoming white wizards if Kharl failed. Then, Kharl himself wasn’t exactly a youth, either, he reflected.
“What about Lord Fergyn?” asked Demyst.
“I can′t tell. He doesn’t have a white wizard with him.”
“You think this’ll be as bad as the last time, ser?” asked the undercaptain.
“No,” Kharl replied. “If we’re fortunate, it will only be about twice as bad.” As soon as he’d spoken, even before the undercaptain shook his head, Kharl wished he’d been less truthful and more tactful. But why did people ask such stupid questions, then get upset when they got a truthful reply?
Truth, again. Always seemingly what people claimed they wanted, but only when it confirmed what they wished to believe. “It might not be that bad,” Kharl said quickly, “but they do have two powerful white wizards and a company of heavy Hamorian horse.” Demyst already knew that, but it wouldn′t hurt to repeat it.
“What did Lord Ghrant do to Hamor, that they’d send such against us?”
“He did nothing. Hamor wants to rule the world. The emperor thinks that, if he can unseat Lord Ghrant, he can rule through Lord Fergyn. Even if we win, it will take years to rebuild Austra, and Lord Ghrant will be in no position to move against Hamor in trade or other matters.”
“Some folks, they never seem to have enough.”
“Usually, they’re already the ones who have more than most,” Kharl replied, thinking of Egen and Lord West.
“Saw that growing up. Biggest orchards belonged to old Khosen, but he was always trying something to get more.”
“It’s like that.” Kharl nodded, trying still to gather in a sense of the white wizards without actively using or creating excess order.
The road began to angle more to the southeast, and the steep cliffs on the north, to Kharl′s left, gave way first to hillsides of red sand, scrub, and fir, then to lower hills covered by an older forest, mostly of evergreens.
They covered another kay or so before the edge of the sun, tinged white-orange by the mists hanging over both valleys and hills, rose over the old forest to the east of the narrow road. Ahead of them the narrow way curved even more southward, following the stream as it angled southeast toward a low gap between the hills to the north and east and the ridge-line to the south. Beyond the gap, according to the maps, was where the stream met the River Fahsa, roughly half a kay west of Ghalmat. Hagen had called Ghalmat a hamlet of but a few hundred people that basically served as a center for the berry patches and the orchards that covered the surrounding hills and ridges.
As they neared the gap between the ridge and hills, a lancer rode toward them, then slowed as he approached. Kharl recognized the scout by face, but not by name.
“Undercaptain … ser … there’s no one in the town. Not more’n a few, anyway. The rest were clearing out when I got there. They must have heard about the Hamorians.”
Or Hagen’s force. Or the white wizards, Kharl thought.
“Did you see any other lancers?”
“No, ser. There’s dust on the road to the east, mayhap a kay east of the town. I didn’t see any to the west or south. Wagon tracks in the roads, carts, but not more than a few mounts.”
The undercaptain looked to Kharl. “We’ll be getting there a little before the Hamorians.”
“If we do, we’ll let them pass, and we’ll do what we need to once they’ve headed toward the lord-chancellor.”
Demyst nodded, then looked at the scout. “Fall in.” He’d turned in the saddle. “Herles!”
“Yes, ser?” answered the left-hand rider of the pair of lancers riding immediately behind Kharl and the undercaptain.
“Ride forward and watch the gap ahead. Make sure that no one heads toward us. If they don′t, just wait for us.”
“Yes, ser.” Herles pulled out and past Kharl and Demyst, then eased his mount into a faster pace.
Almost another half glass went by before Kharl reined up just beyond the gap between the ridge to the west and the low hills to the east. Looking south, he studied the gentle slope running down to the river and the narrow cart bridge that arched over the Fahsa. On the far side was the crossroad that linked the north road and the northeast road out of Valmurl. Thewoodlots and orchards stretching to the south seemed to extend to the horizon, yet they were less than five kays north of the dockworks area of the harbor.