“None other, ser.”
“I’m Lord Kharl. I’m here from Austra to study the records. Lord Hagen felt that such a measure would be useful.”
“Lord Hagen?”
“He’s Lord Ghrant’s new lord-chancellor.”
Undercaptain Demyst cleared his throat. “Lord Kharl tends to be too modest. He is also the Austran envoy to the West Quadrant.”
The elderly man rose, almost laboriously. “An envoy and a lord from Austra, up here?”
“I am also a scholar of the law, in a fashion,” Kharl said. “I have letters from the Lord Justicer of Austra.” He opened the leather case and extracted the heavy envelope.
“Most properly, that should go to one of lord justicers … ser.”
“I’m sure that your hands are most trustworthy.″ Kharl smiled.
Fasyn opened the envelope and began to read. Then he looked up. “Most unusual … only seen one other of these, and that was years back, some young captain from Certis. He only stayed an eightday or so.”
“I’m likely to be here far longer than that.”
The elderly man studied Kharl. “What exactly are you looking for, ser?”
“The divergence in case law over the past three centuries, particularly in how it defines the role of the lord justicers.” Kharl was very glad for the study with Jusof. He hadn’t even known of legal divergence.
“So … this Lord Hagen wants greater control over his justicers.” Fasyn laughed, with almost a cackling sound.
Kharl smiled politely. “I would not be so bold as to make such a guess.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” After a moment, the clerk added, “Lord or not, ser, you’ll need to sign the scholars’ register.” He took a bound volume from the shelf beside him, opened it, and extended it, nodding toward the inkpot and pen on the forward part of the desk.
Kharl wrote “Kharl of Cantyl, Austra.”
The clerk took the book back and read. “Are those lands yours, or is that where you’re from?”
“They’re mine.”
“Well … Lord Kharl, we’ll do what we can to help you.”
“You must be kept busy, Fasyn.”
“At times … at times. What volumes … or cases … do you wish first?”
“Is there an interpretive guide that outlines current procedures? I would like to review that, if it exists. That way, I will not be led into false assumptions.”
“There aren’t that many differences … Both Austran and Nordlan justicer codes derive from the Code of Cyad … the same as Lydiar and Delapra. They’re so close that sometimes merchanters, in civil cases, tariff adjustments and claims, you understand, they bring in their own advocates.”
“Could they do so in criminal cases?”
“There’s no bar to that.” Fasyn tilted his head. “I don’t know that it’s been done in years. You have someone …?”
“No. I just thought that, as an envoy, it might be useful, if the matter ever came up.” Kharl smiled politely. “About the guide?”
“Oh … yes, there is a guide of sorts. It’s incomplete. My predecessor did not finish it … but there are a number of precedents, established since … still …”
Kharl waited.
“I cannot imagine that there are significant differences, though …”
Kharl smiled apologetically. “Small differences in past years can lead …”
“You advocates …” The clerk shook his head. “We’ll go into the library. There’s a table in the middle of the back wall. It’s handy to most of what would be of the greatest interest to you.”
Kharl followed Fasyn, as did Demyst, his hand still on the hilt of his sabre, his eyes checking every shadow in the ancient and musty library.
Unlike the library in the Hall of Justice in Valmurl, there was not a single advocate or student in the library.
“If you would wait a moment …″ Fasyn walked slowly around one of the freestanding shelves and toward a locked cabinet. From the ring on his belt he took a small key and unlocked the cabinet, extracting a folder and a thick volume bound in faded green leather. After relocking the cabinet, he carried both back, setting them on the table.
He looked to Kharl. “The folder here holds Ghasad’s guide. It is not complete, as I said … and here is the Code of Cyad. It’s not original, course, but it is the first-the only-version, and it’s a copy. The original, well, it would be more than a thousand years old, more like seventeen hundred, really, but every new chief clerk has it copied, and I am most certain it is accurate. The first part has the original Cyadoran text. Most of you don′t know that, but the translation is in part two, and it’s an honest transcription. Honest, but awkward.” Fasyn smiled.
“You must be one of the few that know Cyadoran,” Kharl said.
“There are not many, and fewer every year.”
Kharl looked at the folder, then at the ancient volume. Would they help in his plans, or would they be little more than a cover? He could only read them and see.
LVIII
Again, Kharl, Demyst, and Erdyl ate the evening meal together, using but one end of the long table in the formal dining chamber. Supper was a stew, although Khelaya, the cook, had called it ratouyl. To Kharl, it was a stew, and not bad, but not so good as what Adelya had prepared. Khelaya’s brown bread was good, and that helped.
“Tell me again how you were received.” Kharl took a swallow of his ale, then a last bite of the bread.
“I presented myself and was shown to Mihalen, Lord West’s secretary.” Erdyl broke off a chunk of bread, then passed the silver bread tray to Demyst. “He was pleasant, but not warm. He left me in his chamber for several moments while he went into the adjoining study to talk with someone else. The door was ajar when he walked in, and I caught the name … I thought he said Lord Osten.”
“It might have been,” Kharl said. “Osten is Lord West’s older son. The youngest is Egen. There’s another one, I think, an overcaptain, but no one talks much about him. Does something with the tariff farmers, or he did several years ago.” Kharl couldn’t help frowning. Was Osten making decisions for Lord West? What was Egen doing? He pushed those thoughts away. He needed to know more. “What did they say?”
“I couldn’t hear any more because they closed the door, and I didn’t want to get up and try to listen through the door itself. Mihalen came back and said that he expected that Lord West would receive you formally within the eightday, but that it had been noted that you were the representative and envoy for Lord Ghrant. He asked me to convey Lord West’s greetings and welcome.” Erdyl shrugged. “That was all that happened.” Abruptly, he looked down.
“What is it?”
“I am most sorry, Lord Kharl. I had forgotten. There is a missive. I left it on your desk in the library. I was told that it contained an invitation for you to have refreshments with the Sarronnese envoy on threeday afternoon.I’m most sorry, ser. I meant to tell you as soon as you returned this afternoon.”
“That’s all right.” Kharl smiled. “A few glasses’ delay won’t matter.” Sarronnyn? That was one of the northwestern lands in Candar. Kharl thought it was one of the places that still followed the Legend. The ruler was called the Tyrant, or something like that. But why would he get such an invitation so quickly?
“If it is an invitation,” Erdyl said, “you will need to send an acceptance.”
“First thing in the morning, then.”
“Yes, ser.”
“What do you think of Brysta?” Kharl looked to his secretary, then to the undercaptain.
“Sort of … old … run-down,” offered Demyst. “Didn’t see many ships in the harbor. Not when we ported. Looked at the docks from the hillside yesterday, and there weren’t any more, either. Valmurl’s smaller, and there are more ships in the harbor, all the time.”
Kharl had noticed the same, but he just nodded. “What struck you, Erdyl?”
The young secretary swallowed, then blushed, but did not speak.
“Erdyl?”
“Well … ser.” He swallowed again. “I didn’t see any girls out. Not any young women. Most places I’ve been, at least in Austra, you see a few.”