Half a dozen commoners had been standing off to one side, patiently awaiting the chance to have an audience with him. He gave a quick nod to the guard, who escorted the first two—a pair of common sailors—to stand before him. Might as well get it over with, he thought.
He pulled himself up to his fullest height. “What brings you before me?” he demanded, trying his best to sound authoritative.
“Sir …” said the first, and he launched into a convoluted tale, interrupted frequently with embellishments by the second, of how they’d both seen a small trunk washed up on shore. Now each one wanted to claim it for himself.
Greed, Harlmut reflected, seemed to motivate everyone around him. The trunk had undoubtedly been dumped overboard by a merchant ship to prevent its being taken by the Grabentod Raiders. This sort of thing happened once or twice a year. It was the Grabentod Raiders’ standard procedure to burn ships they caught playing such tricks, so it happened less and less.
“What did you find in the trunk?” he asked, imagining silks, rare spices, or jewelry.
The two glanced at each other. “We ain’t opened it yet,” the first one admitted. They were probably afraid it would lead to bloodshed, Harlmut realized, and so they were trying to resolve ownership beforehand.
“Why not divide the contents between you?” he asked.
“What if there’s only one thing of value?” the second said. “Seems to me, since I saw it first—”
“I saw it first,” the other said sharply.
“Silence!” Harlmut shouted. Disputes such as this one sapped his patience and his strength. He didn’t know how King Graben managed to hold court year after year without going mad. Already he felt a severe headache beginning to develop. “Where is the trunk now?” he demanded.
“Outside,” the first sailor said, cowed, “with your guards.”
“Very well,” Harlmut said, “I have made my decision. The chest is to be opened in the courtyard by one of the king’s men. Because you could not settle this matter yourselves, half the contents are forfeit to King Graben. The other half will be divided equally between you. If it’s a single item of value, as you suspect, you will be compensated from the royal treasury for your shares.”
“But—” the second one began, with a shocked look on his face.
“That’s my decision,” Harlmut snapped. “Would you rather the royal treasury confiscate the whole trunk and all its treasure?”
“N-No sir!”
“Then get out of my sight, and don’t bring trivialities to me again!”
Bowing, they hastily backed away. The guard escorted them out.
They had looks of actual fear on their faces, Harlmut thought, a little awed at himself. He seldom spoke to anyone in such tones. Today, with everything unraveling about him, he couldn’t muster the patience to deal with petty bickering. Perhaps some good would come of it, though. Next time, they’d try to settle matters themselves rather than lose half of their disputed treasure to the king.
Frowning, Harlmut turned his gaze to the other four supplicants waiting to see him.
“Who’s next?” he demanded.
The following pair in line—more sailors—muttered excuses and edged toward the door. The two shopkeepers waiting behind them followed suit. A dozen heartbeats later, Harlmut sat alone, with just the guards by the door and a few servants sweeping the floor. Just as well, he thought. If he had a confrontation with Parniel Bowspear coming, he would be better off facing it alone. Enough rumors surrounded him already, without commoners carrying more back to Alber’s taverns.
Suddenly the main doors flew open and Bowspear swaggered in with a wide, triumphant grin on his face. That grin always meant trouble. Harlmut shifted uncomfortably on the throne and tried to look more confident than he felt.
“I take it you met with success,” the king’s steward said.
“That we did, Harlmut.” Bowspear had made it a habit never to address him as “regent” or “sir.” It was a deliberate slight, Harlmut knew, but he always let it pass. Fight the battles you can win, King Graben had always said. “We took a rich merchant’s cargo as prize. I will be dividing shares tonight, if you want to come.”
“No need,” Harlmut said. “As a sworn king’s man, I know you’ll do your duty by the royal tithe.” He swept his gaze up and beyond Bowspear to the bearded stranger, as if noticing him for the first time. “I see you brought a guest back with you.”
“Aye,” Bowspear said, and his grin grew larger, if that were possible. This man had to be truly dangerous, Harlmut realized. “I want you to meet a friend, a powerful wizard from Velenoye.”
A wizard, Harlmut thought, and he tried to stifle his surprise. No wonder Bowspear felt so cocky. With a wizard backing his grab for power …
“From Suiriene, actually,” the wizard said, stepping forward and bowing low to Harlmut. His voice was far softer than Harlmut had expected. “I came by way of Velenoye, where I spent my apprenticeship and journeyman years. My name is Ythril Candabraxis. I am honored to be here, Regent Harlmut.”
“As we are honored to have you as our guest, Candabraxis.” Harlmut studied him thoughtfully. Candabraxis seemed young and a trifle hesitant for a wizard. The few whom Harlmut had interviewed, trying to persuade them to take up residence in Grabentod, had struck him as egotistical and self-important. Perhaps Candabraxis would not prove quite so dangerous after all.
“What brings you to our kingdom?” he asked.
The wizard told him sketchily of his first sight of Grabentod and how it had stirred memories within him. He had come, he said, to learn what had called him here.
Harlmut nodded, intrigued. “You have no definite plans here, then?” he asked, leaning forward. Bowspear had begun to look faintly uneasy. “You had not meant to come to our shores?”
“No,” Candabraxis said firmly. “I was bound for Müden in hopes of finding a patron.”
“Then you must, of course, stay in the castle while you investigate. Winter is coming, and the seas will soon be closed to ships. We have a suite in the northern tower. I’m told it would be ideal for a wizard. I’m certain that spending the winter months here is more advisable than continuing on to Müden.”
Candabraxis nodded. “Yes … I think I would like that, Regent. I am indebted for your hospitality.”
Harlmut deigned to notice the displeased glances Bowspear had been giving Candabraxis.
“Are you ill, Captain?” he asked.
“Yes,” Bowspear said through clenched teeth.
“You’re not looking well,” Candabraxis said, turning to face him. “If you’d like, I would be happy to try another spell…?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bowspear said stiffly.
“It’s no great effort, I assure you,” the wizard said with a smile.
“No,” Bowspear said, more strongly.
“Perhaps you should take your leave of us now, Captain,” Harlmut said, rising. He gazed down at Bowspear and felt a new confidence. “I believe you have shares to divide up? I will see to settling Wizard Candabraxis into his suite. After we have tea, of course.”
“My men won’t have finished unloading yet,” Bowspear protested.
“Then why don’t you see what’s holding them up,” Harlmut said, stepping down and taking the wizard’s elbow. “I will proclaim a feast in Candabraxis’s honor. You will attend, of course, Captain.” He deliberately made it a statement rather than a question.
“Of course,” Bowspear said curtly.
“There is still the matter of my baggage,” Candabraxis began hesitantly. “If I’m to stay here—”
“Captain Bowspear will see to it.”