Rahl stood at the railing, just aft of the bowsprit, as the Diev backed down and away from the pier, out into the harbor. Then the paddle wheels stopped for a moment, and a dull thump shivered through the ship before the paddle wheels resumed turning, this time in the opposite direction, now carrying the ship forward and westward toward the channel between the outer breakwaters.
Rahl turned, first to the westernmost piers, but they were empty, and there was no order-haze across them. Did the black ships spend most of their time at sea?
He looked back at the buildings of the harbor, and the black-stone dwellings with their dark slate roofs, rising gradually up the hill, interspersed with trees and greenery.
“Rahl!” called the purser.
Rahl turned slightly to see Galsyn gesturing.
“Now that everything’s on board and stowed, we need to get to work on the manifest for this leg. We can use the long table in the mess. That’s the one the passengers usually eat at.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl glanced back once more at the black-stone piers and the black-slate-roofed buildings on the hillside above the harbor structures. He thought he could see the training center, but he wasn’t certain. He wondered if he would ever see Nylan or Recluce again, or if Deybri had been right.
He also had to ask himself if he would ever see his parents.
“Rahl!”
“Yes, ser.” He walked toward Galsyn.
Swartheld
XXXV
The paddle wheels were silent, and the boilers were cold as the Diev flew southwest under full sail. Even at noon in late summer, the spray off the bow was chill at those times when the ship nosed through the heavier swells.
Rahl stood by the railing just aft of the bowsprit, watching a seabird circle up, then dive for a meal. In a bit, once the steward cleaned the ship’s mess, he’d have to meet Galsyn there to continue working on the cargo declaration for what was to be off-loaded at Swartheld. He would have preferred to spar with Mienfryd, the ship’s champion, dour as the man usually was. Rahl found that he could hold his own with the truncheon and not get too badly bruised with the practice wands-so long as he concentrated on defense. But it would have been far more painful if the wands had not been wooden.
He half turned, glancing aft. Farther to the northwest was a low line of dark clouds. They looked to be larger and nearer than they had been at midmorning, but he’d already learned that estimating distances at sea wasn’t all that easy.
His eyes came to rest on the silent paddle-wheel assemblies. At that moment, he recalled Khalyt’s comments about engine design and about screws. If screw propulsion were faster, why didn’t the trading ships use it instead of paddle wheels? Although Khalyt had never said so directly, Rahl also had the feeling that the hulls of the Recluce warships were black iron. But Rahl had never seen any trading ships in Nylan that were metal-hulled.
Was building a ship of metal too expensive? Or was there another reason?
One of the passengers, a darker-skinned man who was a Hamorian factor of some sort, made his way along the railing toward Rahl.
“Good afternoon,” Rahl offered in Hamorian. “How are you faring?” He’d wanted to ask how he liked the voyage, but those words escaped him.
The merchant looked up. “You speak Hamorian?”
“I’m still learning. You are a trader?”
“Yes, a factor in cloth and in wool. The black wool of Recluce is much desired in Hamor. I came to pick out that which is most suitable.”
Rahl nodded. “Wool is warm, but is not Hamor too warm for wool garments?”
The factor laughed, a sound with vast amusement. “For tapestries and rugs. Because it does not have to be dyed, it lasts far longer. I also travel to the west of Austra, where there is an orange wool. It is even harder to find, and it is not as durable, but the weaving masters wish it and pay well.”
Rahl knew that the Diev carried raw wool that would be sold in Swartheld by the Nylan Merchant Association. So why would the Hamorian spend coins and time to buy wool himself when he could get it without traveling? Did the Association increase the price that much?
“You are Rahl. You are an assistant to the purser, I heard. I am Alamyrt.” The trader inclined his head politely and smiled, showing tannish teeth.
“For the voyage,” Rahl admitted. “I’m being sent as a clerk to the Nylan Merchant Association in Swartheld.”
“Ah…they wish someone who can speak Hamorian.” He laughed. “Still, language alone will not help. They should bargain more. We love to bargain.” Alamyrt paused. “Do you come from a trading family?”
“No, ser. I was a scrivener.”
“You write Hamorian, too?”
“As I speak it. Not as well as I would like.”
The trader shook his head. “You will not remain with the merchants. You will learn too much. If you choose to leave, go see my brother. He is Calamyr of Doramyl and Sons.”
“Doramyl was your father?”
Alamyrt laughed again, almost delightedly. “Alas, no. He was my great-great-grandsire. We are an old trading family.”
Over Alamyrt’s shoulder, Rahl caught sight of Galsyn, standing in the hatchway of the passage that led to and from the mess and galley. In one hand he held a large leather case and gestured with the other.
“Ser…you must excuse me. The purser needs me.”
“You are excused, young Rahl. Perhaps we can talk later.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl could sense a rueful amusement in the trader, almost verging on…something he couldn’t define. Still, he inclined his head politely before turning and heading across the deck toward the purser.
“What did his mightiness the cloth factor have to say?” asked Galsyn.
“He just said that he was interested in black wool from Recluce and orange wool from Austra, and that the Merchant Association needed to bargain more.”
“Ha! He’d like that. He’d bargain you out of your skin and make you think he’d done you a favor.” The purser snorted. “Anyway, we’ve got a lot to do on the declaration, and I’d rather do it now while we’ve got good weather. Can’t check everything in heavy weather, end up with papers everywhere, and without the declarations being complete, the captain won’t want to off-load in Hamor.”
Rahl frowned. “But doesn’t all the cargo go to the Merchant Association there first?”
“Aye, it does.” Galsyn cleared his throat. “But we have to give the declaration to the Imperial tariff enumerators before we can off-load. Then they check the declaration against everything that hits the pier. Anything that doesn’t match doesn’t get off-loaded, and that means a separate declaration for the stuff we miss-and the fees for another wagon and teamsters, and those costs the captain has to eat out of her share. She doesn’t like that.”
Rahl could understand that.
Galsyn turned and made his way down the short passage to the crew and passenger mess, with Rahl behind him. Once in the mess, the purser extracted two stacks of papers from the leather case and set them on the long table.
“I was thinking, ser,” offered Rahl before Galsyn said anything. He’d wanted to ask before, but not when anyone else was around. He hated revealing what he didn’t know. “Outside of the manifests and cargo lists, I don’t know much about trading, but it seemed like the Nordlan ships I saw in the harbor at Nylan were narrower, and they looked faster.”
Galsyn shook his head. “Trading’s not about speed, young fellow. It’s about coins. A faster ship, if she’s under sail, carries less. If she’s under steam, or steam and sail, she burns more coal, and coal is far more costly than the wind, and the coal takes space that cargo could occupy. And factors and traders, for most goods, they don’t pay more for getting ’em quicker. Rather have ’em later and cheaper.”
“You’re saying that we shouldn’t use steam at all?”