“Was he the one who had the armsmen sent south?”
“ … what Lecy said … told her the south would change everything … told her she wouldn’t want to cross him ‘fore long. ‘Just wait. You’ll see.’ That was what he said.”
That was suggestive, but it could have meant anything, or could have been Egen’s boastfulness. “Did he ever say anything, that you heard, about his brothers?”
“Never heard about the middle one. Folks said that Kolanat’s place burned’cause he was closer to Osten.”
“The factor who had the big place off Cargo Road?”
“That was him. Packed up and took a ship to Lydiar, heard tell. Late spring, I think it was.”
“Did you ever hear anything about the patrollers … why there are so many?”
Enelya’s laugh was bitter. “Even me, I know that. Tariffs. Lord West’s been pumping up the tariffs. Patrollers come see folks who don’t pay. They pay, or they go to gaol. Sometimes … heard tell, they busted into places at night.″
Kharl suppressed a frown. While Enelya was doubtless right about what the patrollers were doing, Egen didn’t need so many patrollers to collecttariffs. A year before the patrollers had worn blue and gray, almost shapeless, tunics and trousers.
Abruptly, Kharl stiffened. Now they wore uniforms. Egen was building a personally loyal army that could hold-or take-Brysta. Were he a wagering man, Kharl would have bet that all the armsmen, especially those who might have other allegiances, were in the south, being readied for the invasion of the South Quadrant. There had never been mounted patrollers before. Were they the beginning of another corps of lancers? One personally loyal to Egen? Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?
He concentrated on Enelya. “Do the patrollers ever talk or complain about drills or practices?”
She looked up, then down. “More than a few times … always talking about drills and formations, and even practicing with rifles. Folks’d think that was all they did.”
“Why don’t the girls feel safe on the streets?” Kharl pressed.
“Ser … saw where I was …”
“Captain Egen … does he …?” Kharl let the words hang.
“Not just him … some of the patrollers … and heard tell that white wizards made off with some girls, too … say they take their lives to keep them young …″
“Wizards? Like the demons of Fairven?”
“Don’t know about that, ser. Just know what the girls were sayin’. Just safer not goin’ places alone,’specially after dark.”
Kharl could sense that Enelya had told him what she could, at least what she could unless he revealed far more than he felt he should. “Do you think you’ll like it here? That you’ll want to stay, at least for a time?”
“Oh, yes, ser … please …″
The abrupt pleading note in her voice tore at Kharl. “You can certainly stay, so long as Khelaya and Fundal are satisfied with your work.”
“Thank you, ser. Thank you.”
After Enelya left, Kharl stood, then stretched. Slowly, he paced back and forth across the library. He had the feeling that, except for the meeting with Lord Whetorak, he had learned all he was likely to in Brysta for the next few days. He also felt that he was running out of time. On the enddays, he and his small entourage would take a ride southward, to Peachill. With luck, he could find out more about the new south road, and also reclaim Warrl. He’d waited long enough, and there was little enough he could do in Brysta in the next few days.
He walked to the desk, looking down at the listing of cases that Erdyl had copied. For the coming two eightdays, there were over one hundred cases on the dockets for the two lord justicers. From what he recalled, Lord Justicer Priost seldom heard more than fifteen cases an eightday, if that, and never more than twenty. His eyes dropped to the sheets again.
Werwal’s case was set for fourday of the next eightday-before Lord Justicer Reynol. That was just two days after Kharl was to present his credentials to Lord West. The docket only showed that the renderer was charged with both a minority and a majority against the Lord of the West Quadrant. Kharl would attend the trial. What more he did would depend on what he saw. He might be able to do something for Werwal.
What was certain was that Egen was positioning himself to follow his sire. Then, Kharl reflected, Osten probably was as well, and the Hamorians were doubtless planning to take advantage of the coming conflict, perhaps even encouraging both sides in one way or another. He took a deep breath, then blotted his forehead.
At a quarter before the fourth glass of the afternoon, after having washed up once again, Kharl stepped out of the residence, down the ancient brick walk, and into the carriage. Demyst followed.
“Can’t say I like you going into the Hamorian residence,” the undercaptain said, settling himself onto the bench seat facing Kharl, but more to Kharl’s left, to allow each some legroom.
“It shouldn’t be as bad as a battle. At least, I hope it won’t be.” That would most likely come later.
The Hamorian residence sat on the upper slopes of the hill less than a quarter kay below the ancient walls of the Quadrancy Keep, just off the Lord’s Road that angled downhill to join Cargo Road in the middle of west Brysta. The grilled iron gates to the grounds were swung back, but two Hamorian armsmen stood under an open-walled but roofed guardhouse. They wore the same tan uniforms as the lancers Kharl had fought in Austra.
Mantar slowed the carriage but did not fully stop. “Lord Kharl, the Austran envoy.”
“Up to the lower portico.” The shorter armsmen gestured.
The drive rose on a gentle incline, but leveled out some hundred cubits farther eastward, at the edge of an expanse of grass. The residence was fully three times the size of the Austran envoy’s, and the walls were of creamy marble, with a roof of split gray slate. The entire lower level was surrounded by a covered porch, easily twenty cubits deep. The driveextended to a courtyard on the north side of the dwelling, where the porch joined a covered portico with long mounting-block steps. Beyond was a large courtyard, clearly designed to hold a score or more of waiting carriages. Beyond that were outbuildings, one of which looked like a barracks large enough to hold more than a company of armsmen. Yet it felt empty to Kharl’s order-senses.
Mantar eased the carriage to a halt.
“Good fortune, ser,” murmured Demyst, before opening the door and exiting, to hold the door for Kharl. “We’ll be waiting here.”
“Thank you.”
Rather than a footman or a steward, there was another Hamorian armsman, but this one wore a uniform of black and crimson. Possibly a dress uniform, thought Kharl, who felt very plain in his black and silver, trimmed with the dark green of Austra.
“Lord Kharl, Lord Whetorak awaits you in the fountain court,” said the armsman. “If you would follow me, ser?”
Kharl nodded. As he followed the man, he extended his order-senses once more, but he could discern no strong impression of chaos, although there were faint traces of whiteness that suggested that chaos had been present at some time in the past.
The fountain court was exactly that, a walled courtyard set behind and below the covered porch at the rear of the residence. The walls were also marble, but barely visible behind the greenery. The residence shielded the courtyard from the late-afternoon sun, and a good half score of fountains played, spraying water skyward and cooling the shaded space.
“There, Lord Kharl.” The armsman stepped aside at the top of the steps off the porch.
“Thank you.” Even before he was halfway down the steps to the marble tiles of the courtyard floor, Kharl was appreciating the coolness.
Lord Whetorak had been standing before the central fountain, a sculpture depicting a man on horseback. Although he was not quite so tall as Kharl, the envoy conveyed both height and angularity as he turned. His hair was a golden brown, his eyes black. He did not wear a sabre or a belt knife, but a covered holster that had to have held some sort of small pistol. Kharl could sense that the weapon held several iron-jacketed cartridges.