Ordermaster

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Kharl also had kept thinking about the chaos explosion in the harbor at Valmurl. While he could imagine a number of reasons for the attack on the Seastag, he just didn’t know enough to be sure what was behind it. He’d have to assume that no one was to be trusted until he found out differently. That was definitely the safest attitude for an envoy anywhere, but not one that Kharl liked.

  In midafternoon on fourday, Kharl and Erdyl stood at the port railing on the poop deck, watching as Furwyl brought the Seastag toward the breakwaters that marked the entrance to the harbor at Brysta.

  Even with the light breeze off the water, the day was clear and hot- but damp. Clearly, the easterlies were remaining strong over the west of Nordla, and the patches of brown on the hills suggested that there had been little rain in recent eightdays. Kharl glanced at the fair weather banner on the pole on the northern outer breakwater-a green oval against a white background, almost limp. The pole itself rose from the tower on the southeastern corner of the north harbor fort. Something about the fort nagged at him. It took him a moment to realize that there was a concentration of chaos there, somewhere behind the walls. It wasn’t the kind that meant a white wizard was present, but more like one had been there. One of Lord West’s mages? He shrugged. Lord West had both types, and he’d certainly learn soon enough. He hoped he would.

  “Those are both forts, aren’t they?” asked Erdyl, glancing from one side of the Seastag to the other, his eyes taking in the two structures that faced each other at the mouth of the harbor-the south fort at the end of one breakwater, and the north fort at the end of the other.

  “Those are the harbor defenses. There are two chains that lie on a stone channel under the water. Each chain is attached to a capstan in each fort. When the capstan is turned, it raises the chain, and the chains block the harbor. They used to raise the chains once every four eightdays and inspect them.” Kharl knew that from the year he had served as an assistant to the cooper at the south fort and had been pressed into the work gang that turned the capstan. “I have some doubts that the chains would work that well against the iron-hulled ships of Hamor or Reduce ... but those are the harbor defenses.” Kharl could see several figures on the battlement in uniforms he did not recognize-maroon and blue, rather than the blue and burgundy of Lord West’s armsmen. Or had the uniforms been changed since he had left Brysta?

  “Would you say that Brysta is somewhat backward?” asked Erdyl.

  “Not in most things,” Kharl replied. “Ships and guns and iron cost golds. I don’t think that Lord West wishes to spend them.”

  “That’s true,” mused Erdyl. “Golds spent on a ship cannot be spent on food or goods or other things.”

  As the Seastag steamed slowly into the harbor proper, Kharl studied the piers, then the city beyond, slowly and carefully. From what he could tell, as the Seastag eased toward the three deepwater piers, only four vessels were tied up. A single schooner was at the outermost of the two coastal wharves. Once fall arrived, almost every berth would be taken.

  He looked at the two vessels at the innermost deepwater pier. Both looked to be Hamorian merchanters, although he could only see the ensign on one. He’d have wagered that they were the same pair that Hagen had mentioned.

  After several moments, Kharl pointed once more. “You can see that all the piers are north of the River Westlich, except for the ferry pier over there. That’s for folk who want to cross to the southwest road. Costs a copper each way. North of the piers, over there, where all the ragged tents are, that’s the lower market, mostly for poorer folk.” He paused for a moment, thinking of the times that he and Jeka had used his few coppers to buy food there, and the first time when he’d saved her from the white wizard. “Ser?”

  “Oh .. . just thinking. Over there is the slateyard.” He paused. A new structure had been constructed where the slateyard had been. It looked like some sort of barracks. “It used to be the slateyard. I don’t know what that building is.” After a moment, he went on. “The main road to the harbor is Cargo Road. Most of the low hill to the west here, that’s for crafters and shopkeepers. The grander places are on the east side, overlooking the river and the back bay.”

  Furwyl eased the Seastag toward the first ocean pier, empty on the inshore side. “Back her down! Engines full stop! Lines out!”

  “Lines out!” echoed Reisl.

  The Seastag barely touched the fenders between pier and ship before she was fast to the bollards, the lines doubled up.

  Kharl looked at the pier, then toward Cargo Road. Supposedly, the steward at the envoy’s residence was to send the carriage and a baggage wagon to the Seastag. He suspected that they would have to wait for a time. While he knew about where the residence was, he had seldom been in that part of Brysta and did not recall the area, except that it was an older part of the city with large dwellings-not all that far from where he had confronted the first of the white wizards.

  Rhylla scrambled up the ladder to the poop deck, said something to Furwyl, who replied and nodded toward Kharl. The second hurried toward the mage. “Lord Kharl... there’s some harbor inspectors headed down the pier. They usually don’t hit so soon.”

  “Thank you.” Kharl grinned. “Erdyl and I will stay here, discussing the harbor and the weather.”

  “It’s hot and likely to stay so, Lord Kharl. If you would excuse me ...”

  “Go be friendly to the harbor inspectors,” Kharl suggested, knowing that no ship’s officer cared much for the tariff collectors.

  Once Rhylla had headed down to the main deck, ahead of Furwyl, Kharl looked at his secretary. “I don’t think an envoy should worry about inspectors, do you?” He blotted his forehead. Now that the Seastag was tied to the pier, the faint breeze he had felt earlier had vanished.

  Erdyl barely managed to keep a smile from breaking out. “Ah ... no, ser.”

  “How many ships are at the deepwater piers?”

  “Four, ser.”

  “How many could the piers hold?”

  “That would be hard for me to say, ser, but I’d guess three, four times that many, could be more.”

  “What do you think about the two closest to shore?”

  “They look almost deserted, ser. Are they Hamorian?”

  “I’d judge so.”

  “Are you thinking....” Erdyl glanced in the direction of the quarterdeck, where two men in dark blue tunics stood in the hot afternoon sun, talking to Furwyl. Rhylla stood back slightly from the three men.

  “We’ll have to see,” Kharl said.

  After perhaps a quarter glass of talking, then going over manifest lists, seemingly line by line, the two harbor inspectors left the Seastag, but one remained on the pier, watching the ship. Shortly after that, a covered carriage painted in green and black and drawn by two grays rolled up the pier. Behind it was an open teamster’s wagon.

  “Our carriage has arrived,” Kharl said.

  “Let me check, ser.”

  Kharl nodded, and Erdyl hurried down the ladder. He was met on the main deck by Undercaptain Demyst. The two made their way down the gangway.

  Furwyl made his way up the ladder and joined Kharl. “A carriage yet.”

  Kharl almost laughed. There had been a time, not all that long ago, when he’d walked from the piers to his cooperage to save two coppers. “It’s not mine. It belongs to the envoy’s residence, or so they tell me.”

  “From cooper to carpenter to mage to lord. All in less than two years.”

  “It seems longer.” Kharl didn’t mention the flogging or the time in gaol or the season in hiding. “Thank you.” He paused. “What did the inspectors want? Why’s the one waiting?”

  “They insist on watching the cargo being off-loaded,” replied the captain. “They didn’t say what they were looking for. Just said that we wouldn’t have any trouble if the manifest was right.” “Crossbow quarrels and blades, you think? Lances? Rifles?”

  “Something like that, I’d guess,” replied Furwyl. “Or maybe iron pi
gs.”

  Kharl nodded. “Could be. There’s no iron in the West Quadrant. Smythal had to buy his rough stock from one of the factors. Came from Reduce or Lydiar, I think.” He also wondered if someone had been told that the ship would not arrive-and worried about how it had. Still, it seemed unlikely that the Hamorians would confide in Brystan customs inspectors.

  “Don’t envy you, Lord Kharl. You can have the carriage and finery and all that.”

  “That’s because you love the sea.”

  “Could be. Treacherous as she can be, she’s not half so treacherous as most lords and rulers, excepting you and Lord Hagen. But you two aren’t like most lords.”

  “You’re kind.” Kharl wondered if that happened to be because Hagen had been a captain and factor more than a lord, and because Kharl himself had not had a chance to learn treachery.

  “I see what I see.”

  Kharl laughed. “I’d best be getting my gear. I see young Erdyl heading this way. Thank you again for surrendering your cabin.”

  “For you, I’d do that anytime.” Furwyl glanced toward the main deck, where Reisl was directing the deck crew on opening the main hatch and setting up to unload. “Best watch the new bosun.”

  Kharl thought Reisl would do well, but he just nodded, and let Furwyl head down the ladder. He followed, but went to the master’s cabin.

  Cevor was waiting in the passage. “Thought we’d be taking your bags, ser.”

  “They’re ready.”

  Kharl let the guards lead the way off the Seastag. He followed, carrying only the large leather case that held documents, letters, and his credentials. Around his waist, inside his tunic and jacket, was a shimmersilk bodybelt that held golds, over five hundred. He felt as though he wore lead. That much gold was heavy.

  Furwyl turned from where he watched the deck crew. “You take care, Lord Kharl.”

  “You, too.” Kharl turned and headed down the gangway to the waiting carriage, a carriage that the driver had turned, carefully, on the wide pier, so that it was headed off the pier and toward the city.

  Undercaptain Demyst was waiting at the foot of the gangway. “Cevor and Alynar will go with the baggage cart. Don’t want your things disappearing.”

  “Thank you.” Kharl looked up at the driver, a small man neither young nor old, with a weathered face, who wore a coachman’s jacket of green trimmed in black.

  “Ser?”

  “I’m Lord Kharl. You’re the driver?”

  “Yes, your lordship. I’m Mantar. Been with Fundal for near-on half a score.”

  “You’ve seen a few envoys come and go, then.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Kharl smiled. “Well... I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.”

  Kharl stepped into the coach, where he was joined shortly by Erdyl and Demyst. In but a few moments they were under way.

  “Brysta looks bigger than Valmurl,” Erdyl said.

  “Valmurl is more spread out,” Kharl suggested. “There are more towns nearby. Not everyone lives in the city, like in Brysta.”

  “Brysta looks older,” added the undercaptain.

  “I think many of the buildings and dwellings are.”

  Kharl cleared his throat.

  “Ser?” asked Demyst.

  “I’d like to remind you both not to mention .. . my talents with order. Not to the steward or the retainers at the residence. Not to anyone.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Kharl turned to Demyst. “You will remind Cevor and Alynar, as well.”

  “I have told them both that they will answer to me, to you, and to Lord Hagen if they so much as hint.”

  “Good. Thank you.” It might not help, but Hagen had made the suggestion, and usually what the lord-chancellor suggested was wise.

  The carriage rumbled up Cargo Lane until it reached Eighth Cross. There the driver turned westward. Eighth Cross sloped upward for another half kay before descending. After the crest, they traveled two long blocks before the carriage slowed, then turned in through a wide brick gate, before coming to a halt in a brick-paved courtyard on the left side of the dwelling.

  From the carriage, Kharl took in the residence, a structure a good three times the size of the main house at Cantyl. The walls were of a rough brown-stone, with wide mullioned windows, trimmed in dark green. The pitched roofs were of dark slate, and the front wall was of dark red brick, with two gates, the carriage gate, and a smaller gate with a brick archway above it.

  A gray-haired man, wearing a black-trimmed green tunic, hurried down the brick walk. He stumbled on a protruding brick, but caught himself.

  Erdyl opened the carriage door and stepped out, holding the door for Kharl. The mage and envoy eased through the narrow door and stepped onto the ancient brick pavement.

  “Lord Kharl?” The man took in Kharl slowly.

  “I am Lord Kharl.” Kharl hated to announce himself as a lord.

  “Yes, Lord Kharl. I’m sorry I did not recognize you, but no likeness was sent. I am Fundal, the residence steward.”

  “I understand. This is Erdyl, my secretary and this is Undercaptain Demyst. The two guards I brought are with the baggage wagon. It was following us.” “Ah ... two guards?”

  “I thought guards were customary.”

  “Yes, ser. Lord Hensolas brought half a squad, added more later, and two secretaries, and his ... cousin . .. Genya, of course.”

  Kharl smiled. “Then we should have plenty of room.”

  “More than enough, ser. More than enough.” Fundal bowed. “Let me show you the residence.”

  Undercaptain Demyst smiled politely. “I’ll be going first, if you will, steward.” He stepped toward the side steps leading up to the covered porch that wrapped around the front of the dwelling.

  “Of course, undercaptain, of course.”

  His case under his arm, Kharl followed the steward.

  “This is the front porch. Lovely in the morning. Lord Isel always took breakfast here. The rear porch, of course, is more private. It has seen many summer functions ...”

  Kharl said little as Fundal took Kharl through the main sitting room, the front salon, the library, which also served as the envoy’s study, the long dining room, the adjoining breakfast room, the rear salon, which opened onto the covered rear porch, which, in turn, overlooked the small formal garden, the kitchen, and the various pantries. Then Fundal led them to the basement, which held various cellars, as well as a strong room. They returned to the main foyer and climbed the wide grand staircase to the second level, which held five large bedchambers, and two bath chambers, one of which was attached to the envoy’s bedchamber and sitting room. The third level held six smaller chambers, including those for Erdyl and the undercaptain.

  “Your guards ... now there’s a barracks quarters over the stable ... and that adjoins the other staff quarters,” ventured Fundal.

  “With only two, it would be better to have them on the third level,” Kharl suggested. “They’d be closer.”

  “Yes, ser,” interjected Demyst.

  “Third level, it is,” affirmed the steward.

  “Do we have mounts for riding?” asked Kharl.

  “Why, yes, ser ... but for your guards and your secretary. That is, when you need the carriage. The past envoys ... they have not ridden in Brysta.”

  “I imagine not.” Kharl nodded, but was glad to know that the mounts were available.

  While the bags were being carried to the various quarters, and before he did more, Kharl drew Fundal aside into the library. “Yes, ser?”

  “I was led to believe, Fundal, that you were concerned that the residence accounts were short of coins?”

  “Yes, ser. I can show you the ledgers. We have less than twenty golds on account at the Factors’ Exchange. Prices ... well, for everything .. . they’ve been higher this year. Almost no produce coming from the south, they say. The brigands ... or something. You hadn’t come in the next few eightdays ... I can’t say
that I could see how we’d have lasted.”

  “Leave the ledgers out on the desk here. I’ll look them over after we get settled, and we’ll take care of the accounts first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, ser.” The steward smiled tentatively.

  Kharl was glad that he could solve one problem. He had the feeling that, while he didn’t know what others he faced, not in detail, setting Fundal’s mind at ease would be one of the easier tasks before him.

  LVII

  Kharl should have been tired, he supposed, after the long trip to Brysta, but he hadn’t been. So after unpacking and hanging out his clothes in the capacious wardrobe in his chambers, he had made his way down to the study and gone through the ledgers, line by line. From what he could tell, Fundal was honest, relatively frugal, and probably without imagination or more than modest initiative. Several of the suppliers of provender and other goods for the residence were not sellers Kharl would have chosen, even with unlimited golds, and over time those would need to be changed.

  Nowhere in the residence library were there any records of what previous envoys might have done as envoys, nor was there a history of recent events in Brysta. Even the leather-bound volumes on the dark oak shelves were old and stiff enough that Kharl doubted most had ever been read, even when new.

  He, Erdyl, and Demyst had taken an early supper, and Kharl had gone back to the library afterward. There, he had drawn up a listing of what he thought needed to be done, based on what he recalled of the verbal instructions Hagen had given him. Doubtless he would miss things. He’d not been raised as a lord.

  Then, for a time, he had just sat in the darkness and thought, wondering about Warrl, Jeka, and Sanyle . .. and, always, there was the sadness about Arthal.

  His first inclination was to deal with Warrl and the young women as soon as possible, preferably on the morrow, but, as Taleas the scrivener had pointed out, acting before thinking had been his undoing more than once. Painful as it was, he would do better to proceed carefully. If Warrl remained safe with Merayni and Dowsyl, then rushing in would do no good. If something had happened because of the so-called brigands, whatever Kharl might do was already too late. That thought nagged at him, and he had to force it away.