Whetorak stepped forward, inclining his head slightly and smiling with his mouth alone. “Lord Kharl.”
“Lord Whetorak.” Kharl smiled. “I can see why you prefer this courtyard. Especially on days like today.”
“It is most pleasant. But you have had a warm journey, I am most certain. Let me offer you something to drink. What would you like? We have a wide selection of various wines, and lager, ale, or even icenyl.”
“I must confess that I know little of icenyl.”
“Few do, save those in a small town in the north of Suthya, north even of Cape Devalonia, but it is an icewine of a particular freshness and pungency, and most refreshing in times of heat such as these.” Whetorak smiled politely. “You would prefer?”
“I’ll stick with lager, even in this heat.”
“The choice of a wise and cautious man.”
“Cautious,” Kharl conceded. “I’m not yet old enough to be wise.”
“The good lager and icenyl.” Whetorak glanced at a serving girl who had appeared from somewhere.
Kharl had to admit that the girl was beautiful, and the filmy shirt and skirt she wore left very little to the imagination. He forced his eyes back to the other envoy. Whetorak moved gracefully toward the sole table in the courtyard, one set with just two chairs. Each chair had a thick black cushion.
“You must tell me of your trip from Valmurl,” said the Hamorian as he seated himself. “You did come from Valmurl, and not your own lands, did you not?”
“My lands are not that far away, but I came from Valmurl. Are you from Cigoerne?”
Whetorak laughed. “All envoys are from Cigoerne. We are trained there, and we first serve as aides to other envoys, then return for more training. We are lords only so long as we serve. If we serve well and faithfully for more than twenty years, we remain lords.”
“It is almost a lordly craft for you, then?”
“A lordly craft … I like that.” Whetorak waited as the serving girl set a pale crimson crystal beaker before Kharl and a goblet of the same crystal before him.
Kharl studied the lager with his order-senses, but it appeared to be lager and nothing more.
Whetorak lifted his goblet. “In thanks for your safe arrival in Brysta.”
“To your hospitality,” replied Kharl.
“Your posting to Brysta was rather sudden,” observed the Hamorian.
“We had no idea when a replacement for Lord Hensolas might arrive. A most impressive envoy. I was personally sorry that he found it necessary to oppose his lord. Doubtless I will receive full information from Cigoerne within an eightday or so. Until then …″
“It was sudden to me as well,” Kharl admitted. “I had hoped to get on with several projects on my lands …” He shrugged. “It is hard to refuse a request from the lord-chancellor.”
“Ah, yes. Lord-chancellor Hagen, an interesting figure. I understand that he was once arms-master to Lord Estloch, but that there was a falling-out. Most interesting it is that the son has turned to him.”
“Lord Hagen is quite able,” Kharl said politely.
“Ah, yes.” Whetorak laughed. “In times of trouble, rulers turn either to friends or to those of ability. Those who turn to friends usually lose all their power immediately. Those who turn to ability lose it more gradually.”
“That’s if a ruler lacks judgment.”
“Most times, if a ruler faces great troubles, he has poor judgment.”
Kharl couldn’t argue with that. He took another sip of the lager.
“There were also tales of a mage who appeared from nowhere,” Whetorak went on, after a sip of his icenyl. “And who could tell who was lying and who was not.”
“Most order-mages, even the least skilled, can do that, I understand,” Kharl replied.
“No one seemed to know much about him. Some say that the lord-chancellor discovered him and that he was made a lord.”
“Lord Ghrant has rewarded those who served him,” Kharl agreed. “He would have been remiss not to reward a mage who served him well.”
“I must confess that I have not heard of Cantyl,” Whetorak went on.
“Most have not. It is a small estate, as they go, on the coast and to the southeast of Valmurl. We produce mostly wine and timber. There are enough fields and orchards and berry patches to feed all those on the land. I’ve recently improved the sawmill and added a cooperage.”
“Those are improvements most would not make.”
“I inherited what my grandsire and sire had improved,” Kharl said, “and I would hope that I could improve what I hold for my son.” He had inherited the cooperage in Brysta, and he did want to hand on more than he had obtained, and he certainly hoped that the truthful, but misleading, statements would also mislead Whetorak.
“You did not bring your consort and son here, then?”
“No. I thought it better that my son remain with relatives until I was more established here. My consort died a year ago.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“It is still a painful subject.”
“I imagine so.”
“Your consort?” prompted Kharl.
“She is spending some time with friends near Eolya, in the green hills there. It is much cooler there at this time of year.”
“You did not go with her?”
“No. These days, an envoy’s work is never done. That you must also know, for Lord Ghrant would not have sent you in the summer were it not so.”
“He felt that Austra needed an envoy here. That is true.” Kharl forced a smile. “I had heard that Hamor was providing assistance to Lord West in building roads.” That was a guess, but Kharl felt comfortable with it.
“We do have much experience in building such roads. Already the Great Highway from Cigoerne nears the eastern port of Atla. It is the longest paved road in the world.”
“It must have taken years to build and mountains of stone.”
“Anything great takes time.” Whetorak shrugged.
“And your engineers and experts are helping Lord West?”
“Hamor can spare an engineer or two. That, we can do.”
“I have noticed Hamorian merchanters in the harbor. Have they brought tools for Lord West’s road?”
“Who could say? No one tells an envoy of all the cargoes that pass through a port.″
Kharl could sense that Whetorak was definitely lying. But why? What the other envoy said made sense, but it wasn’t true. That meant Whetorak did in fact know what was being shipped into Brysta.
“How long have you been here … as envoy?”
“Just less than a year. A most pleasant place, and somewhat warmer than your Valmurl, I think. We of Hamor prefer warmth to cold.”
“How have you found Lord West and his sons?”
“Ah … Lord West, a most charming man, and his sons are most devoted to seeing his heritage continue.”
Kharl smiled. He was quite certain that the sons wanted to continue the heritage of ruling, personally and immediately, but he couldn’t see any point in pressing that, or questioning Whetorak about it. It was more thanclear that Whetorak wasn′t about to reveal anything-except by forcing Kharl to reveal even more, because asking specific questions required revealing knowledge.
“I notice you do not wear a sabre, as do so many Austran lords.”
Kharl laughed. “I bear weapons when necessary. Certainly not in company such as yours.”
“Yet … what if you were attacked?”
“Brysta is most safe these days, I have been assured. My guards are also quite accomplished.” Kharl shrugged. “If necessary, I will go armed.” He glanced at Whetorak. “Don’t you worry about chaos setting off the cartridges in your pistol?”
“It is most unlikely.” Whetorak smiled. “It is no secret. The cartridges are formed of soft iron; the bullets are lead. There is more wear on the gun that way, but only the strongest of chaos-mages could set off the cartridges, and”-he shrugged again-“in such a case, those would be the least of my worries.“