The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [167]
I just stood there beneath the wall, far enough away so that my breathing would not be heard, and sat down in the shade and waited.
Clink…clinkedy…clink…
The first horse passed by, heading for the barracks, carrying another chaos-ruled killer.
I kept waiting, my heart still beating too fast.
…clickedy…click…clickedy…click…
The delivery wagon never reached the palace gates, but turned at the sub-prefect’s vacant house.
…click…click…
Another soldier, this one walking tiredly toward the barracks.
I took a deep breath, trying to relax. The relaxation lasted until the next sound of hooves.
Clickedy…click…clickedy…click…
“Hold it.”
Unseen, I eased toward the rider and his horse, another one of the chestnuts.
“I’m Captain Karflis with a message for the Military Council.”
“Yeah, he’s Karflis. He shows up the day before the council meets.”
Click…My foot caught on a curb my senses hadn’t distinguished.
“What’s that?”
I froze, knowing they couldn’t see me.
“Relax. It’s broad daylight. There’s no one in sight.”
Creakkkkk…
As the iron gates swung open, I followed the good captain on foot, and not too close to the rear of his horse, but close enough that any sound I might make would be covered by the louder impact of the chestnut’s hooves on the stone of the courtyard inside the gate.
I stopped as he dismounted, sensing almost a fountain of chaos somewhere off to my left. The captain, however, turned right, and I decided to go with him. Following the captain into the palace was almost as easy, since he walked with a heavy tread and his boots echoed on the marble floors.
From the courtyard, where he left the horse with a military ostler, or whatever they were called, he passed another pair of guards in the main hall. Then he bypassed the grand staircase and walked through a small archway to the side, leading to a narrow corridor that opened into another hallway at the back of the palace. After a left turn, he walked through a red oak doorway with an elaborate stained-glass mural inset over the open door. My senses did not distinguish the scene all that well, except there was a lot of lead around the glass panes.
“Captain Karflis, You are expected. The marshall is inside.” Another pair of guards flanked the closed door to the right of the desk where the other officer—I assumed that from the gold on his shoulders—was sitting.
This time, I barely made it inside without getting the door shut on me, and I actually brushed the captain, recoiling from the swirling chaos locked within him as I did so.
He brushed at his coat. “Spiders…or something…”
“How goes it, Karflis?” The marshall was thin, that I could tell, and his voice was flat and cold.
“The autarch refuses to attack until our men cross into her territory. She has a new weapon that flings crossbow bolts in greater numbers beyond the range of our wizards to detect them.”
“How effective is it?”
As Karflis continued to stand facing the marshall and to report, I studied the room, from the high and arched ceiling to the cold, if large, hearth, from the table with four chairs around it to the large desk behind which the marshall sat.
“…not much more effective than crossbows…really…”
“You have heard of her strike here?”
Karflis bowed from the waist. “Ser?”
“Devil-forged chairs, spells upon once-loyal soldiers…”
Both men were filled with that tight and coiled loop of chaos, but in the captain’s case, the order beneath, that core of honest blackness, still refused to submit, and I gauged the strength of the chaos, then reached for the captain with my senses, making a change here and there. Nothing that would be obvious for a while.
The marshall bore no trace of order, only a white-red coil of disorder and evil.