“You get to scour the hoops,” Kharl said. “The dirty work. Write out a fancy letter to Lord West saying that I’ve just arrived from Valmurl as Lord Ghrant’s appointed envoy to the West Quadrant of Nordla and would like to pay my respects to Lord West and present my credentials to him in person, as is usual and customary.”
″Ah … you shouldn’t say it’s usual and customary.″
“But I can say that I wish to present myself and the credentials in person?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Then … you write it as you think best, and I’ll sign it, and then you get to deliver it. When you do, be charming, but most insistent that Lord West see it. Listen for names. While you’re writing that, I’ll be at the Factors’ Exchange, first, arranging for the transfer of golds to the residence account. After that, we’ll come back. I’ll sign the letter. Then I’ll have the driver take me to the Hall of Justice. I’ll introduce myself as a visiting scholar. The driver can take you to deliver the message, and then come back and find me.”
“You’re not going alone, ser?”
“No. I’ll take Undercaptain Demyst. You take either Cevor or Alynar with you.”
Erdyl nodded. “Yes, ser.”
“You can use the library here to write out that letter.” Kharl picked up the leather case that held his credentials and the authorizations to draw on the account at the Factors’ Exchange, then walked out into the main foyer, catching sight of himself in one of the full-length mirrors set into the wall. Without the beard, his hair cut short, and wearing the dark gray tunic trimmed in Austran green, and the black jacket, he looked like a different man. Then, in many ways, he was.
“Fundal!”
Even before Kharl’s call finished echoing through the main foyer, the steward appeared.
“Ser?”
“We’re heading to the Factors’ Exchange. They should be open on fiveday. ″
“Yes, ser. They close on sevenday afternoon and on eightday. You want me to accompany you?”
“They know you. They don’t know me.”
“But everyone has heard that a new envoy has arrived from Valmurl.”
“What else have they heard?”
“Just that you are a strong supporter of Lord Ghrant and that you were effective in the battles that ended the rebellion.”
Kharl looked hard at Fundal. “How would they know that?”
“Ser … you are the envoy. Lord Ghrant is the ruler. Anyone he sent would have to be a supporter who had been effective.”
Kharl could detect no sense of deceit or chaos … or even something withheld. Still … for some reason, Fundal’s statement bothered him. Was it because everyone who dealt with power would draw similar conclusions? Or that Kharl would have to accept such sharpness, even in secretaries and stewards-and even greater perception among those whom those underlings served? Those thoughts were disturbing enough, and once Lord West and the other envoys heard from their spies in Austra, more would be known about Kharl than he would have preferred.
“Ser?”
“Let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you have the golds to resupply the residence and pay the retainers, and the sooner I can get on to what I need to do.”
“Ser?”
“I’m also a scholar of justice. You can tell people that.”
Fundal’s brow crinkled, but the steward did not say more.
The trip to the Factors’ Exchange was short, less than a kay downhill and south to an old structure above the now-unused and marshy waters that had once been the back bay. Not all that far from the White Pony, Kharl reflected although it was farther to the east.
When they alighted from the carriage, Kharl was vaguely surprised to see a pair of Watch patrollers on the opposite corner, wearing maroon-and-blue uniforms of a type he had not seen when he had left Brysta. Yet neither appeared to be watching the Factors’ Exchange.
At the Exchange, Fundal introduced him to the bursar and head clerk. Kharl produced his credentials and authentications, then transferred one hundred golds from the drawing account into the residence account. At that, Fundal looked noticeably relieved. Kharl hoped the relief was from normal worry, but he resolved to watch the accounts closely.
By the time they returned to the residence, Erdyl had finished a draft letter, but it took almost a glass before Kharl and Erdyl were both satisfied, and Kharl signed the missive, somewhat more flowery than he would have preferred, but the minimum necessary according to Erdyl.
Then Kharl and Erdyl set off in the residence carriage, accompanied by Undercaptain Demyst and Cevor.
Mantar drove at a measured pace. Demyst kept looking out the carriage window.
Occasionally, Kharl nodded. Mostly, he frowned, especially when he saw the burned-out ruins of what he recalled had been a large factor’s warehouse. He couldn’t remember the factor’s name, because he’d never dealt with the man, but the faint sense of chaos lingering within the burned-out structure bothered him.
Somehow, the Hall of Justice appeared less imposing than Kharl had remembered it, although it was larger than the Hall in Valmurl. After he stepped out of the carriage, his eyes went to the walled courtyard to his left. Behind those walls, Charee had been hanged, and he had been flogged. The leather case under his arm almost forgotten, Kharl studied the walls for a time.
“Ser? Lord Kharl?”
At the sound of the driver’s voice, Kharl started, then turned. “I’m sorry. Go ahead and attend to Erdyl’s business. We’ll be here for a time, at least several glasses.”
“How will I know when to come for you?”
“The second glass past noon, unless Erdyl needs me sooner.” That was a guess, but as good as any. If he had troubles in getting access to the library, he and Demyst could always walk back to the residence. It wasn′t that far, and Kharl had certainly walked far greater distances without even giving it a thought.
“Second glass past noon. Yes, ser.”
As the carriage pulled away, Kharl started for the open double doors. Demyst kept pace with him. Once inside the doors, Kharl paused in the foyer, a good thirty cubits long and half that in width. At the end of the foyer was a single set of double doors, guarded by two patrollers, also in the newer maroon uniforms. Before, when he had been at the Hall, where he had been tried by Reynol, the guards had been armsmen.
Kharl decided that viewing the justicers inside the Hall of Justice could wait. He needed to get his introductions and begin his studies in the library.
He had his own plans for Lord Justicer Reynol … and for Egen.
One of the patroller guards hurried across the foyer.
Kharl turned and fixed the man, a good head shorter than he was, with his eyes.
The guard stopped. “Blades, weapons are not allowed in the Hall, ser …?”
“This is Lord Kharl, the Austran envoy to Brysta,” Demyst announced, his hand on the hilt of his sabre.
Before the guard could protest, Kharl cleared his throat. “We’re not going into the Hall itself. I’m here to see the lord justicers’ chief clerk.”
“Fasyn is the overclerk, ser. His chamber is on the upper level, off the front stairs. I suppose the blade would be all right there … but not in the Hall itself.”
“Thank you,” Kharl said politely. He turned toward the narrow staircase to the left, a stairwell he had not even noticed when he had been in the Hall before.
“No blades …″ murmured the other guard to the one who had stopped Kharl.
“Austran lord … says … envoy to Lord West … you want to tell him?”
“So long as he doesn′t bring it into the Hall …”
“ … what I say …”
At the top of the staircase was a long and narrow foyer. The first chamber held a table desk piled with papers and volumes, but no one was within. Kharl moved to the doorway of the second.
An older man with sunken cheeks and jowls looked up from the narrow table set against the right sidewall. “Yes?”
“You’re Chief Clerk Fasyn?”