“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 pigs.”
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 toldthat 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 youngnor 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.”