Kharl nodded, not really understanding.
“Kharl … a quarter of what golds flow into Valmurl from trade come from the cloth woven in those mills. The mills are powered by the waterwheels on the Lord’s Millrace.” Hagen’s voice was even, but Kharl recognized the strain behind the forced patience.
This time, Kharl’s nod conveyed comprehension. “It was a diversion?”
“Exactly. That chaos-spawned wizard flamed down almost the entire squad.” A grim smile preceded Hagen’s next words. “Lord Ghrant has suggestedthat anything you can do to remove the white wizards would be appreciated.”
Kharl felt vaguely uncomfortable at first, then angry. Less than half an eightday before, he had practically had to force Hagen to accept his ideas about dealing with the wizards. Now, he felt as though he were being blamed indirectly for not having done enough soon enough. He almost spoke, then swallowed, forcing himself to take a slow deep breath. After a moment, he spoke quietly. “I would be happy to do what I can, ser, as I suggested earlier.”
“You did.” Hagen paused and took another sip from the goblet. “I did not mention your suggestion for dealing with Hensolas and Fergyn. I did tell Lord Ghrant of your willingness to take on the white wizards. He supports that. He did ask me to suggest to you that it might be unwise to extend your talents to either lord, except in the heat of battle.”
“Does he fear that the lords who now support him might think I would be turned against them in time?”
“He did not say, and it was not a question that was prudent to ask. He was not in the best of humors. I would judge that he has fears along those lines.” Hagen took a deep breath.
Kharl said nothing for a moment, understanding belatedly that, in his own way, Hagen was trying to balance what needed to be done against the temperament of a ruler who feared to act most of the time, then rushed into unwise action-as Ghrant had in Dykaru. Kharl also understood the message within the words. If Kharl could dispose of either Fergyn or Hensolas in a way associated with battle, he was not only free to do so, but such a course of action was highly desirable.
Was that the way all successful ruling was handled? By hint and indirection, so that a ruler could deny ordering what he had wished? Or so that he had the choice of taking credit or denying responsibility?
“Do you think we should leave immediately?”
“I would judge that dawn tomorrow would be adequate. The rain may have abated by then.”
“Dawn tomorrow,” Kharl affirmed.
“Will one squad be enough to accompany you?” asked Hagen. “I propose assigning Undercaptain Demyst once more. He seems suited to such duty.″
Kharl thought he understood that message as well. The undercaptain wasn′t that good in combat and needed direction. Or he had some otherfault. “One squad and Undercaptain Demyst. We will deal with the wizard and keep him and Lord Hensolas from interfering with Commander Casolan′s forces.” He just hoped he wasn′t promising more than he could accomplish.
“I can count on you, Kharl. I wish there were more about whom I could say that.” Hagen offered a wan smile. He coughed several times. “Chaos-fired throat.”
“You’ll be better.”
“I’m sure I will be, especially once this rain ends.” Hagen stood. “I need to get ready to discuss some matters with Commander Norgen.”
Kharl rose. “I’ll need to prepare a few things myself.”
Once he was outside Hagen’s study, Kharl walked deliberately toward the staircase to the upper levels and his own quarters. He was being given leave-quietly-to carry out what he had proposed. Could he do it?
XXII
The clouds that had brought eightday’s rain had lifted, but not vanished, by dawn on oneday, and the air was warm and damp, enough so that even without direct sunlight Kharl was sweating in the green-and-black uniform by the time he had ridden less than a glass southward. The white wizard had left the spot where he had been, nearly due south of Valmurl, and appeared to be moving westward, generally toward the Southwest Branch, the stream that fed the Lord’s Millrace before joining the River Val.
From the maps Kharl had studied and from what Hagen had said, the wizard could be accompanying rebel troops heading to join battle against Casolan’s forces or riding westward to destroy the millrace and dam. Kharl doubted that a Hamorian wizard would want to destroy something that produced golds-especially not as a first resort-but he had been wrong before in his judgments, often enough that he wasn’t about to discard either possibility.
“Warm, it is, for such a cloudy day,″ offered Undercaptain Demyst. The stocky and square-faced man had been blotting his forehead even more often than Kharl.
“It’s likely to get even warmer once the clouds clear.” Kharl paused. “How much longer before we reach the River Val?” To reach the Southwest Branch and the Lord’s Millrace, Kharl and the lancers accompanying him had to cross the River Val first. Then they would turn east if they wished to reach the Southwest Branch, or westward on the south river road if it appeared that the wizard’s forces were heading out to intercept Casolan’s advance force.
“Less than a glass, ser. Less than a glass. The scouts say that the way is clear. No rebel lancers, leastwise. Not this side of the river.”
Kharl nodded and concentrated on riding, and in taking in the countryside west of Valmurl. For at least a score of kays to the west of where they rode, the land stretched out in a nearly flat valley that extended a good eighty kays to the south of the River Val and slightly less than forty to the north. In places, there were low hills, but none rose more than a few rods above the road. Fields, recently tilled, and meadows were everywhere, with cots set at almost regular intervals. While he could see both men and women working in more distant fields, the peasants or smallholders of those lands closest to the road were wisely remaining out of sight.
To the northwest, when he looked back over his shoulder, Kharl could make out the distant hills, and a few snowcapped peaks behind them. He could see nothing but fields and meadows ahead of them-and a line of trees several kays to the south. The trees, he suspected, marked the River Val. While there were some woodlots on the holdings, and a few orchards, most of the land was marked out in squarish fields set aside for crops, and there were almost no hedgerows at all. Those appeared to have been created only in the north and west of Valmurl.
“Why aren’t there any hedgerows here?” he asked the undercaptain.
“Lord Esthaven forbid them here in the valley proper. Said that they gave holders airs. Had to kill a few before they got the idea.”
The more Kharl heard about Esthaven, the less he liked what he heard. “What do they grow here?”
“Maize and oats, mostly, besides gardens. Everyone has a garden. There’s wheat corn south of the river. Doesn’t do as well here on the north side. No one knows why. Around the river, where it’s wet, there’s sorghum. Best molasses in the world here, and that’s why there’s none better than Austran black bread.”
Kharl had enjoyed the dark bread, but hadn′t connected it to the quality of molasses in Austra-although that made sense. With a faint smile atthe thought, and the realization that there was much he had never questioned, he shifted his weight in the saddle. He still wasn’t that used to riding, and the saddle got hard after a while. Awkwardly, he stood in the stirrups, trying to stretch his legs and give his backside a respite. He glanced ahead, hoping that the river wasn’t that far ahead.
“Really won’t be that far, ser,” offered Demyst.
“I’m not a lancer,” Kharl said dryly. “Riding is harder on me than coopering all day.”