“Do you need me, ser?”
Kharl glanced at the young man, sensing his discomfort. “No. Just stay up here in the fresh air. It helps.”
“Did you …?” Erdyl swallowed.
“It takes a while to get used to, especially when we’re running with the wind in the long swells.”
Kharl did not go to the master’s cabin, his temporary quarters, but took the ladder down to the main deck, then headed forward and down the inside ladder to the carpenter’s shop. He peered through the open hatch. Tarkyn was working on a carving, his relaxation when the carpentry tasks were light.
“Tarkyn?”
“Lords don’t belong in the carpenter’s shop.” The older man’s voice was gruff. “Ser.”
Kharl could sense that, despite his tone, Tarkyn was pleased. “They do if they were once carpenters.”
“Knew you should have been a mate, at least.” Tarkyn laid aside the carving. “Told you that. I didn’t think I’d see you as a lord and an envoy.”
“I didn’t, either,” Kharl admitted. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“Might be why you got it.” Tarkyn shook his head. “Terrible thing with Bemyr.”
“I tried to protect him, to warn him. I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Good man,” Tarkyn said. “He always did want to do things his way, though. One time, made me replace a capstan bar with spruce. Told him it wouldn’t work. It didn’t. Broke the first time they used it. Captain Hagen reamed him good.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m getting up there. Told Furwyl to start looking for another carpenter. You hadn’t gone and saved Lord Ghrant, and it’d be you.” Tarkyn looked up at Kharl. “Best second I ever had.”
“I liked working here,” Kharl said. “I never thought it would turn out this way.”
“Better for you that it did.”
Kharl nodded thoughtfully. It might have been better for him, but it hadn’t always been better for those around him. Not at all. Charee and Arthal were dead. Warrl had lost his mother and the birthright of the cooperage that had been in the family for generations. Kharl had had to leave Sanyle and Jeka, and he could only hope that they were all right. The young undercaptain who’d been with him on the first attack against the rebels was dead, and so were half of the lancers who’d supported Lord Ghrant.
When he left the carpenter shop, Kharl made his way back up to the main deck, then into the master’s cabin. There he sank into the chair beside the built-in desk.
He needed to sort out what he’d been told and what he knew.
Lord Ghrant was worried about what was happening in Nordla. He had few people he could trust to find that out, and none who were experienced as envoys. Hensolas had been the previous envoy, and immediately after he had returned, even before Estloch could talk to Ghrant, Estloch had been murdered, and Hensolas had ended up as one of the lords rebelling against Ghrant, but only after Ilteron’s death. Had he been involved with Ilteron from the beginning? What was going on in Nordla that would cause an attack against Kharl? Or did the attack have anything to do with Nordla? Could it have been a scheme merely to kill Kharl in a way in which he could not use his abilities?
If the crate had merely exploded in the hold once the Seastag was well at sea, the explosion would not have hurt Kharl, but it would have blown out a chunk of the hull, and set the ship afire. Once the Seastag was sunk-or aflame-Kharl’s magery could not have done much against the ocean, not for long.
The mage and envoy shook his head. In some ways, the reasons did not matter. It was clear that someone, most probably the Hamorians, wanted him dead. But it would help to know for what reason.
It might, Kharl corrected his thought.
LVI
The rest of the crossing, on a route south of the Gulf of Austra, then up the west coast of Nordla, was uneventful for the entire passage-more than two eightdays.
At various times, he’d talked with both Ghart, the first mate, and Rhylla, the second, as well as Furwyl. While all three were friendly, and clearly happy for Kharl, there was a definite reserve, an understanding that while they had once been shipmates those times were past. That reserve saddened Kharl, because the officers of the Seastag had been welcoming and helpful when he’d had nowhere to go.
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 awhite 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 Recluce … 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.