“My neighbor raises cattle and sheep. I’d like to know what the rates are for hides here. See if you can get an idea from the tanner.”
“Ser?”
“You have cattle at Norbruel, don’t you?”
“Well... yes, ser.”
“Then use that, too. Complain that I don’t know anything, if you have to, but see what you can find out, about how their prices are, about what they see in the city, but get them to talk about anything, the more the better. And see if he’ll tell you anything about why the Tenderer’s place is boarded up. I’ve never heard of anyone shutting down a Tenderer. Brysta doesn’t feel right, but...” Kharl did not want to explain. “Keep your eyes open, for just about anything. Oh ... take Alynar or Cevor, but leave them outside and out of sight when you talk to the tanner. The tanner’s name-I had it here somewhere ...” Kharl walked to the desk where he shuffled through the small stack of papers, before looking up. He hadn’t looked, but didn’t want Erdyl to know that. “Drenzel, that’s it.” “You want me to do that now?”
“The sooner the better. I’m going over to the Hall of Justice for a while. I’d have you come with me, but it would be better if you and Alynar or Cevor rode.”
“Yes, ser.”
Kharl could sense that Erdyl was puzzled, but Kharl didn’t want to tell him much, not until he’d talked to Drenzel and reported back to Kharl.
Kharl had to wait half a glass before Mantar had the carriage ready, because he’d forgotten to tell anyone.
After a glass or so that morning in the Hall of Justice library, Kharl slipped back downstairs into the Hall, to hear several trials held by Lur-tedd, the other lord justicer, who, as he recalled, was supposed to be more closely tied to Overcaptain Osten. After two very long glasses in the hot Hall, when the second trial was completed, and one Astolan had been convicted of disturbing the peace-and sentenced to a season in the quarries-Kharl had come to two conclusions.
There was little difference between the two lord justicers, and he was not about to find out any more than he already knew from studying what went on in the Hall of Justice.
He left the Hall, and he and Demyst made their way outside, finding a shady spot to wait for Mantar.
“They do it much different here, ser?” asked the undercaptain.
“The procedures are almost the same. I think the sentences are harder.” Kharl really didn’t wish to say more, not where anyone could hear.
Despite the shade, the day was hot, and Kharl was perspiring profusely by the time Mantar returned with the carriage less than a half glass later.
“We’ll take another ride through Brysta, starting at the harbor and working up through all the cross streets,” Kharl told the driver.
“Be a long trip to go a short ways, ser.”
“That it will be, but we need to see some things.” Kharl opened the door and stepped into the carriage, making sure the windows were open.
As they rode, Kharl counted Watch patrollers. In addition to the harbor inspectors, there were four patrollers at the foot of the piers, although there was only one non-Hamorian ship, and that had to be from Reduce, flying as it was an ensign of the black ryall on a white background. There were four patrollers at the lower market square, and two were mounted, the first time Kharl had seen that-ever. The two around the upper square were also mounted, and there seemed to be a pair on foot at practically every other corner of a cross street and road. By the time they returned to the residence, Kharl had counted over a hundred patrollers in an area that amounted to less than a quarter of Brysta proper.
Erdyl was waiting when Kharl returned and entered the library, followed by Demyst. The young secretary stood immediately. “Ser.”
“What did you find out?” Kharl blotted his forehead once more.
“The tanner wouldn’t say much, except that it all depends. Good bull leather, that will take splits, a good hide might fetch almost a gold. Sheep fleeces are cheap, three coppers, maybe a silver.” “Did he say anything about the Hamorians or Lord South?”
“Said that with the trouble in the south, lots of herders were selling off part of their flocks, those they couldn’t keep under roof at night, and that was driving down prices. Might be why wool prices were going up, too. He claimed he didn’t know anything about the Hamorians, and Lord South, except that Lord South was a doddering old fool.” “What about the renderer?”
“His place has been closed for an eightday, or thereabouts. The tanner said he was in gaol. Something about tariff farmers. He didn’t let one in, and in the night the patrollers came and smashed up things.” Erdyl shrugged. “That’s what he said. I couldn’t believe that he said the patrollers did that.”
“The tanners and the Tenderers usually will say more than other craf-ters,” Kharl said.
“No one else wants to do what they do,” suggested Demyst.
Kharl turned and walked to the desk. Should he? If he didn’t... He looked at Erdyl. “I’m sorry to have you riding all over Brysta, but I have another errand for you, after we eat. You’ll need to go to the Hall of Justice, and see if you can find out what will come before each justicer in the next eightday, or the next two. If Fasyn or the clerks ask, tell them that I’m interested in listening to certain cases, but that, as an envoy, my time is limited. So I wanted to pick those of most interest to me.” “Ser . .. will they tell me?”
“They might.” Kharl forced a grin. “They’re supposed to post the dockets, but I’ve never found out where. You could say that, if you need to. Take some paper and a markstick. You’ll probably have to copy them, or take them down.” “Ser...?”
“A listing of those cases could prove very useful.” One way or another, Kharl thought. “It’s too bad they haven’t kept the case files up to date. It doesn’t help that the newest records are more than four years old.”
“Do you think that’s because the lord justicers don’t want anyone seeing the records of the way they decided things?” asked Erdyl.
“The records only matter if the law means something,” Kharl replied, “and if there’s a way to make sure that the justicers follow the law. If the justicers are twisting the law to do what Lord West wants, they won’t want recent records. Not accurate ones, anyway.” “You think they’re doing that?”
Kharl nodded, a wry smile on his lips. “We can’t do much about that. Now ... let’s get something to eat.”
LXIX
After the midday meal on a hazy sixday, Kharl retreated to the library, waiting for Enelya. He would have liked to have waited longer to talk to her, but he needed to know more about what was happening in Brysta, and he would have felt odd trying to contact other envoys and immediately questioning them. He’d taken off his jacket and was debating whether to shed the waistcoat when there was a timid rap on the doorframe. The door was open.
“Come in, Enelya.” Kharl gestured to the chair across from the desk, then settled into his own chair.
The serving girl sat down on the edge of the straight-backed chair. Her hair was drawn back from her face. She did not look at Kharl, and for the moment, that was fine with the mage. He waited to see what she might say.
“Ser ... I’d been meaning to thank you ...”
“I’m just returning a favor you did for someone else,” Kharl replied, “and I’m glad that I could. Is your room all right?”
“Oh, yes, ser. Khelaya’s been teaching me cooking, too.” She still did not look at the envoy.
“Enelya ... I’d like you to tell me what’s been happening in Brysta.” “Ser?”
“The last time I was here, I saw girls and women on the streets. There were a few armsmen here and there, and a handful of Watch. Now, there are no girls on the streets. There are no armsmen, and there are scores of patrollers.” Kharl waited.
“I... never thought ‘bout such, ser.”
“You were a server at the White Pony. You must have heard something. Something happened to your sister. Was that part of the reason why few women wal
k alone?” “How’d you know that?”
“I heard it from a friend of mine.” That was absolutely true, if not in the way Kharl intended the woman to take it.
“Not many folk knew about Josarye.”
Kharl waited again.
“Ser ... I served ‘em. Sometimes, I listened. Most times I didn’t want to stay close ...”
“Especially to Captain Egen?”
Enelya shuddered. “Girls at the Bardo’d hide if they heard his voice. Liked the little ones, and the young ones. Always was hurtin’ ‘em. Got him excited.” “Was he the one who had the armsmen sent south?”
“... what Lecy said ... told her the south would change everything . .. told her she wouldn’t want to cross him ‘fore long. ‘Just wait. You’ll see.’ That was what he said.”
That was suggestive, but it could have meant anything, or could have been Egen’s boastfulness. “Did he ever say anything, that you heard, about his brothers?”
“Never heard about the middle one. Folks said that Kolanat’s place burned ‘cause he was closer to Osten.” “The factor who had the big place off Cargo Road?”
“That was him. Packed up and took a ship to Lydiar, heard tell. Late spring, I think it was.” “Did you ever hear anything about the patrollers ... why there are so many?”
Enelya’s laugh was bitter. “Even me, I know that. Tariffs. Lord West’s been pumping up the tariffs. Patrollers come see folks who don’t pay. They pay, or they go to gaol. Sometimes ... heard tell, they busted into places at night.”
Kharl suppressed a frown. While Enelya was doubtless right about what the patrollers were doing, Egen didn’t need so many patrollers to collect tariffs. A year before the patrollers had worn blue and gray, almost shapeless, tunics and trousers.
Abruptly, Kharl stiffened. Now they wore uniforms. Egen was building a personally loyal army that could hold-or take-Brysta. Were he a wagering man, Kharl would have bet that all the armsmen, especially those who might have other allegiances, were in the south, being readied for the invasion of the South Quadrant. There had never been mounted patrollers before. Were they the beginning of another corps of lancers? One personally loyal to Egen? Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?
He concentrated on Enelya. “Do the patrollers ever talk or complain about drills or practices?”
She looked up, then down. “More than a few times ... always talking about drills and formations, and even practicing with rifles. Folks’d think that was all they did.”
“Why don’t the girls feel safe on the streets?” Kharl pressed.
“Ser . .. saw where I was ...”
“Captain Egen ... does he ... ?” Kharl let the words hang.
“Not just him. .. some of the patrollers .. . and heard tell that white wizards made off with some girls, too ... say they take their lives to keep them young...” “Wizards? Like the demons of Fairven?”
“Don’t know about that, ser. Just know what the girls were sayin’. Just safer not goin’ places alone, ‘specially after dark.”
Kharl could sense that Enelya had told him what she could, at least what she could unless he revealed far more than he felt he should. “Do you think you’ll like it here? That you’ll want to stay, at least for a time?”
“Oh, yes, ser ... please ...”
The abrupt pleading note in her voice tore at Kharl. “You can certainly stay, so long as Khelaya and Fundal are satisfied with your work.”
“Thank you, ser. Thank you.”
After Enelya left, Kharl stood, then stretched. Slowly, he paced back and forth across the library. He had the feeling that, except for the meeting with Lord Whetorak, he had learned all he was likely to in Brysta for the next few days. He also felt that he was running out of time. On the end-days, he and his small entourage would take a ride southward, to Peachill. With luck, he could find out more about the new south road, and also reclaim Warrl. He’d waited long enough, and there was little enough he could do in Brysta in the next few days.
He walked to the desk, looking down at the listing of cases that Erdyl had copied. For the coming two eightdays, there were over one hundred cases on the dockets for the two lord justicers. From what he recalled, Lord Justicer Priost seldom heard more than fifteen cases an eightday, if that, and never more than twenty. His eyes dropped to the sheets again.
Werwal’s case was set for fourday of the next eightday-before Lord Justicer Reynol. That was just two days after Kharl was to present his credentials to Lord West. The docket only showed that the renderer was charged with both a minority and a majority against the Lord of the West Quadrant. Kharl would attend the trial. What more he did would depend on what he saw. He might be able to do something for Werwal.
What was certain was that Egen was positioning himself to follow his sire. Then, Kharl reflected, Osten probably was as well, and the Hamorians were doubtless planning to take advantage of the coming conflict, perhaps even encouraging both sides in one way or another. He took a deep breath, then blotted his forehead.
At a quarter before the fourth glass of the afternoon, after having washed up once again, Kharl stepped out of the residence, down the ancient brick walk, and into the carriage. Demyst followed.
“Can’t say I like you going into the Hamorian residence,” the under- captain said, settling himself onto the bench seat facing Kharl, but more to Kharl’s left, to allow each some legroom.
“It shouldn’t be as bad as a battle. At least, I hope it won’t be.” That would most likely come later.
The Hamorian residence sat on the upper slopes of the hill less than a quarter kay below the ancient walls of the Quadrancy Keep, just off the Lord’s Road that angled downhill to join Cargo Road in the middle of west Brysta. The grilled iron gates to the grounds were swung back, but two Hamorian armsmen stood under an open-walled but roofed guardhouse. They wore the same tan uniforms as the lancers Kharl had fought in Austra.
Mantar slowed the carriage but did not fully stop. “Lord Kharl, the Austran envoy.”
“Up to the lower portico.” The shorter armsmen gestured.
The drive rose on a gentle incline, but leveled out some hundred cubits farther eastward, at the edge of an expanse of grass. The residence was fully three times the size of the Austran envoy’s, and the walls were of creamy marble, with a roof of split gray slate. The entire lower level was surrounded by a covered porch, easily twenty cubits deep. The drive extended to a courtyard on the north side of the dwelling, where the porch joined a covered portico with long mounting-block steps. Beyond was a large courtyard, clearly designed to hold a score or more of waiting carriages. Beyond that were outbuildings, one of which looked like a barracks large enough to hold more than a company of armsmen. Yet it felt empty to Kharl’s order-senses.
Mantar eased the carriage to a halt.
“Good fortune, ser,” murmured Demyst, before opening the door and exiting, to hold the door for Kharl. “We’ll be waiting here.”
“Thank you.”
Rather than a footman or a steward, there was another Hamorian armsman, but this one wore a uniform of black and crimson. Possibly a dress uniform, thought Kharl, who felt very plain in his black and silver, trimmed with the dark green of Austra.
“Lord Kharl, Lord Whetorak awaits you in the fountain court,” said the armsman. “If you would follow me, ser?”
Kharl nodded. As he followed the man, he extended his order-senses once more, but he could discern no strong impression of chaos, although there were faint traces of whiteness that suggested that chaos had been present at some time in the past.
The fountain court was exactly that, a walled courtyard set behind and below the covered porch at the rear of the residence. The walls were also marble, but barely visible behind the greenery. The residence shielded the courtyard from the late-afternoon sun, and a good half score of fountains played, spraying water skyward and cooling the shaded space.
“There, Lord Kharl.” The armsman stepped aside at the top of the steps off t
he porch.
“Thank you.” Even before he was halfway down the steps to the marble tiles of the courtyard floor, Kharl was appreciating the coolness.
Lord Whetorak had been standing before the central fountain, a sculpture depicting a man on horseback. Although he was not quite so tall as Kharl, the envoy conveyed both height and angularity as he turned. His hair was a golden brown, his eyes black. He did not wear a sabre or a belt knife, but a covered holster that had to have held some sort of small pistol. Kharl could sense that the weapon held several iron-jacketed cartridges.
Whetorak stepped forward, inclining his head slightly and smiling with his mouth alone. “Lord Kharl.”
“Lord Whetorak.” Kharl smiled. “I can see why you prefer this courtyard. Especially on days like today.”
“It is most pleasant. But you have had a warm journey, I am most certain. Let me offer you something to drink. What would you like? We have a wide selection of various wines, and lager, ale, or even icenyl.”
“I must confess that I know little of icenyl.”
“Few do, save those in a small town in the north of Suthya, north even of Cape Devalonia, but it is an icewine of a particular freshness and pungency, and most refreshing in times of heat such as these.” Whetorak smiled politely. “You would prefer?”
“I’ll stick with lager, even in this heat.”
“The choice of a wise and cautious man.”
“Cautious,” Kharl conceded. “I’m not yet old enough to be wise.”
“The good lager and icenyl.” Whetorak glanced at a serving girl who had appeared from somewhere.
Kharl had to admit that the girl was beautiful, and the filmy shirt and skirt she wore left very little to the imagination. He forced his eyes back to the other envoy. Whetorak moved gracefully toward the sole table in the courtyard, one set with just two chairs. Each chair had a thick black cushion.
“You must tell me of your trip from Valmurl,” said the Hamorian as he seated himself. “You did come from Valmurl, and not your own lands, did you not?” “My lands are not that far away, but I came from Valmurl. Are you from Cigoerne?”
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