“I may have wasted it anyway. I’ve been trying to work out how to release chaos from objects.”
Hagen frowned. “Is that something black mages can do?”
Kharl understood the question Hagen hadn’t asked, the one he hadn’t wished to ask, and replied, “There is one way that is acceptable for a black mage. That is not to handle the chaos directly, but to remove the order bonds from an object and leave the chaos.” Kharl offered a crooked smile. “It’s not recommended. According to the … to what I’ve heard and learned, trying to do that could kill a mage.”
“You’ve been doing it.”
“I couldn’t think of anything else that might be helpful,” Kharl admitted. “I don’t know how useful it will be.”
“You blew pieces of granite off the tower. Stone shards were falling in the courtyard.”
Kharl nodded. “I have to be close, somewhere within twenty or thirty cubits.”
Hagen fingered his clean-shaven chin, tilting his head to one side. “We still might be able to figure out something. Let’s go get something to eat, and we’ll see what we can work out.”
“I am hungry,” Kharl admitted. He was ready to listen. Besides, he was too tired to try anything else.
“Good. You look like you could use a good meal.” Hagen turned.
Kharl followed the lord-chancellor down the stone steps from the tower.
XIII
In the darkness before dawn, Kharl used his order-senses check the causeway to the east of the flat-bottomed boat. Using them was necessary, because the boat had been covered with reeds and grass, from which jutted straggly cattails that remained from the fall before. In the mist that covered the marshes bordering the causeway, the concealed boat looked like another marshy hump, one of a number, if the only one in the immediate area. Under the canvas covered with grass and clumps of plants, the fetid mixed odors of marsh and harbor backwaters were almost unbearable.
Kharl swallowed.
“How much longer, ser mage?” asked Dorfal, the young armsman and former crabber, his voice low.
“They’re still a good kay or more south of us,” Kharl whispered back. As he waited with the clammy fog all around him, Kharl wondered, once more, how he’d managed to get himself where he was-sitting in a flat-bottomed boat less than thirty cubits off the causeway, essentially alone. There was a squad of armsmen waiting well to the west of the marsh, but they were out of sight, and too far away to be of much immediate assistance. They were there to protect Kharl once he returned-and to escort him back to the Great House.
How had he gotten into this mess? By the way he had dealt with Guillam, everything else had followed. While it might not have been his fault, not totally, it was certainly his responsibility. More important, if he didn’t support Ghrant, he’d have nothing, and he didn’t want to go back to that.Hiding, not having enough to eat, watching every corner, listening to every sound-no, he’d had enough of that, even if it had only been for a season.
He could only hope the plan he and Hagen had developed would work out.
The plan itself was simple. Kharl and Dorfal waited in the concealed boat, a craft built like a scow, but far smaller, with two hastily mounted winches fore and aft. Cables were attached to the winches. One was anchored-underwater-to a massive boulder at the edge of the causeway. The other, more than ten rods to the west and also underwater, was tied to a huge and ancient stump that barely protruded from the water. Beyond the stump was a low hillock, behind which the armsmen waited. Between the small scow and the trunk was one of the few stretches where the murky swamp water was a good three or four rods in depth. Kharl would make sure that no order or chaos could be sensed by the Hamorian white wizard-or wizards. He and Dorfal would wait until the bulk of the rebel forces passed. Then Dorfal would winch the craft to the causeway, and Kharl would begin to release order from the nails and other small scraps of metal in the pouch at his belt-after he’d thrown or otherwise placed them in the right spots among and behind the rebels. With the winch and cables, the scow would stay where it was supposed to, and could be moved more quietly.
The idea was to push the rebels forward, toward the harbor front, which appeared largely undefended. It was, in fact, scarcely defended at all-except for the dozen or so old cannon that Hagen had taken from the armories. But those cannon were set to rake the end of the causeway with grapeshot. Hagen had also managed to dig out cold-iron powder canisters, the kind that could be closed after each load was measured and set. While there were still risks involved, from what Kharl and seen and sensed, the Hamorian mages weren’t likely to be able to set much of the powder off at any one time. But he’d told Hagen that it was most likely that some of the powder would still be fired by chaos.
“We’re still risking less this way,” the lord-chancellor had replied.
Kharl had wondered, but with the first companies of Casolan’s main force still at least four days away-and that was if dry weather held-Hagen had few enough choices. He didn’t have forces adequate to defend both the Great House and the harbor, and Fergyn’s forces in the north were uncomfortably close to the Great House. Yet, if Hensolas and the rebel lords took and held Valmurl harbor, before all that long the Hamorianswould be pouring arms and aid to the rebels-as well as slipping in the Hamorian forces that would soon make Austra part of Hamor.
Kharl’s “diversion” had two possible favorable outcomes. It either pushed the rebels into the cannon or forced them to stop and regroup. In the second instance, Kharl would need to get back to the concealed boat in some haste and beat a quiet retreat. That was if matters went their way, and Kharl wasn’t all that confident about that, but he didn’t wish to think about what might happen if they didn’t.
Dorfal said nothing, just shifted his weight uneasily, and the scow tilted slightly.
“Someone’s coming … riders …” Kharl murmured. “Two squads … could be more.”
“How far?” “Half a kay, maybe a little less.”
The two waited and listened, and Kharl let his order-senses receive, but he offered no probes, nothing active, as the lancers neared. There was no sense in alerting a white wizard if one accompanied the oncoming forces. Before long he could sense the armsmen marching behind them, several companies, at least. “Quiet now,” he murmured.
Dorfal nodded.
Kharl wasn’t certain how much of the gesture he caught with night vision that had improved dramatically since he had begun to work with order and how much had come directly from his order-senses.
The sound of hoofs on the flat stones of the road in the center of the causeway rose from the faintest hint to semiregular dull clicks. Kharl could only sense a company of lancers, followed by perhaps three companies of armsmen on foot. That was half of what Hagen had expected.
The mage frowned, because he could not sense any other lancers or armsmen-and there was no sign of a white wizard. That would make his task easier, but it also disturbed him. Where were the white wizards? Were the armsmen coming up the causeway from the south some sort of feint? How would Kharl know? How could he? All he could do was wait until the force passed, then decide whether he could carry out his mission.
More than half a glass passed before the last of the foot neared the concealed scow.
“Winch us in, Dorfal, slowly,” Kharl finally whispered.
“Yes, ser.”
So far as Kharl could sense, no one had even looked in their directionacross the ten rods that separated the road from the edge of the causeway. In the misty grayness just before dawn, Kharl slipped from under the canvas flap covered with tannish marsh grass. His boots splashed slightly as he stumbled in the span-deep water at the edge of the causeway. He was wearing the heavy winter grays that he had once used as a ship’s carpenter, because the gray would blend with the morning fog and mist and help in concealing him.