Wellspring of Chaos (38 page)

Kharl had been back aboard the Seastag for almost two glasses, a good glass after sunset, and according to Rhylla, no wagons had shown up with cargo. Nor had Hagen set a day or time for leaving, except that he expected that they could sail anytime in the next few days.

Because he’d been so restless that he knew he couldn’t read or sleep—especially as early in the evening as it was, he’d made his way back topside and settled out of sight against the railing near the bowsprit, warm enough in his winter jacket and gloves. He was trying to sort out too many matters—from what he felt about what had happened over the past year to where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. He really had no answers, not ones that made much sense, and what he read in The Basis of Order confused him as often as it explained things.

The ale he’d had with Herana had made several things clear. First, he definitely missed feminine companionship. Second, he liked Herana’s company, but that was all. And third, he’d lacked a closeness with Charee for a long time, something he’d missed without knowing it. Or perhaps, he just had come to accept matters as they had come to be.

At the sound of hoofs on the pier, unusual after sunset, Kharl turned and looked down and aft. A rider had reined up and dismounted. He started up the gangway, and his voice carried. “Captain Hagen! Captain Hagen!”

Although the single lantern from the quarterdeck cast but faint illumination, Kharl thought the man wore a uniform, but not the black and yellow of Ghrant’s personal guards.

Kharl turned and moved aft, slipping around the paddle wheel frame in the darkness. He decided to try to cloak himself by using order, and concentrated on having the light flow around him. The dimness that surrounded him turned into absolute blackness, and for a moment he stopped, disoriented. He made an effort to sense his surroundings and, more slowly, continued toward the quarterdeck.

The evening deck watchstander was Ghart, and he was talking to the newcomer.

“I’ve called the captain, ser, and he should be here in a moment.”

Sensing Hagen coming from aft, Kharl stepped back, as quietly as he could. While no one could see him, people could still hear him, and Hagen could certainly walk into him, and that would not be what Kharl wanted.

“Captain,” offered the slender man.

“Majer… my cabin?” asked Hagen.

“I… think not. Perhaps aft and above.”

“As you wish.” Hagen turned and crossed the deck.

The majer followed, and then, quietly, so did Kharl, several paces back, cautiously, climbing the ladder up to the poop well after Hagen and the majer. Kharl stopped less than five cubits from Hagen and the other man, possibly the son of a lord, as well as an officer, Kharl judged, certainly someone of high stature from his few words and carriage.

“… would do almost aught to support Lord Ghrant,” Hagen offered.

“For now, what is of most concern to him is that you take his consort and sons to Dykaru. Tonight, if at all possible.”

“That is a goodly distance,” said Hagen.

“He does not want them threatened by Ilteron. Where else in Austra could they be more distant?”

“Or safer,” suggested Hagen, “seeing as it serves the center of the ancestral lands of Lord Ghrant.”

“If you agree, they will be arriving shortly.”

“Under the cover of darkness. Are matters that precarious here in Valmurl? Or does he fear that they soon will be?”

“Lord Ghrant does not want a pitched battle over Valmurl. If he wins, it will be a meaningless victory, because it will destroy the city. That is why he is moving south, and why he is making it known to Ilteron that he is.”

“And what if Ilteron takes Valmurl and does not follow Ghrant?” asked Hagen.

The other man laughed, harshly. “If Ilteron cannot dispose of Ghrant quickly, he will lose. He is known to be cruel and unforgiving. He has stated that he is strong and Ghrant is weak. If he cannot best Ghrant soon, that gives the lie to his words. And… he has already killed Lord Bowar in a fit of anger. The longer the fight goes on, the more it favors Ghrant, and even the highland lords know that. Ilteron will have to fight Ghrant in the south. The southern lords will never support Ilteron, and it was for that reason, as well you know, Lord Hagen, that Lord Estloch disinherited…”

Kharl nodded to himself. It did not totally surprise him that Hagen was called “lord.”

“I did not wish to see Austra torn in two, and yet what I did not wish has still come to pass,” Hagen said in a voice so low that Kharl had to strain to hear the words.

“If Ilteron does not press the fight to Lord Ghrant,” the majer went on, “eightday by eightday, the lords of the east, then the north, will slowly come back to Ghrant, for he will not rule them with an iron fist and curtail their powers. Ilteron will, and many follow him but through fear.”

“The Seastag is ready to set to sea,” Hagen said. “We will do what your master wishes, and I hope that your words are what comes to pass.”

In his concealment, so did Kharl.

“What will be will be, and the right will triumph,” answered the majer.

“Of that, I am certain,” returned Hagen, and Kharl heard the irony in his voice. “Let us hope that it is the proper right. For do not all men and lords believe that what they wish is right?”

There was silence from the majer, and Kharl could sense a swirl almost of chaos—anger, he thought.

“Come, majer,” Hagen went on. “Relying primarily on one’s cause as being right is an invitation to difficulty and defeat.”

“I have noted, Lord Hagen,” came the stiff reply, “that those who are convinced of the Tightness of their cause are more likely to persevere and triumph.”

“They’re also more likely to show scorn and contempt for their opponents and to sow the seeds of future conflict. I have no love of this conflict, majer. No good will come of it, only less evil. I support Lord Ghrant, as I have told him to his face, not because he is a great lord, but because he has the chance to become one, while his brother can only become worse.”

The cool matter-of-fact words spoken by Hagen chilled Kharl, but the majer remained agitated.

“Ser…”

“Enough.” Hagen’s single word, delivered in a tone of cold command, silenced the majer. After a moment, he went on. “We do not live in a world where all is good, majer. We must do the best we can with what we are given. We have the better cause, but it is far from perfect, and to think otherwise is vain arrogance. I await the Lady Hyrietta and her sons.”

“Ser. They will be here shortly.” The majer’s words were clipped, but Kharl had the feeling that the man was still seething.

Still holding his shield around himself, Kharl quickly made his way back down to the main deck before the majer, hurrying forward past the paddle wheel on the starboard side. Then he released the shield. Even the dimness of night was welcome after the blackness he had endured.

Kharl had always felt that Hagen was more than a mere captain or factor, but from the majer’s reactions it was clear that Hagen held far more power in Austra than Kharl—or most of the crew—had realized. It was also obvious how Hagen regarded Lord Ghrant.

Kharl had barely considered those facts before the sound of hoof-beats on the pier signaled the departure of the majer. In the comparative silence that followed, Kharl pondered whether he should head to his bunk in the forecastle—or if he could even sleep immediately—when he heard footsteps.

“Thought you might be here,” said Furwyl. “Cold as it is, most nights you’re up here.”

“It’s not that cold, ser,” replied Kharl.

“I’m from Dykaru, and it’s a fair sight colder here in winter than there. Anyway, captain wants to see you. He’s up on the poop, forward of the wheel.“

“Yes, ser.” As he turned and headed aft across the foredeck, Kharl wondered if the captain had sensed his presence, or if Hagen had a task for him because of the majer. He made his way across the main deck not at all quietly, then up the ladder.

Hagen was standing at the rail, looking westward toward Valmurl.

“Ser… you asked for me?”

The captain did not move for a moment, then turned. “I did. I’d like to ask you to undertake a different duty for the next few days. You’d share it with Ghart and Esamat.”

Kharl waited. He only knew Esamat by sight and name, a wiry top rigger, but the combination of the three was definitely strange.

“We’re going to have a passenger, a lady and her two sons, and we’ll be carrying them south to Dykaru. She’ll have my cabin for the trip, and I’ll be needing a guard in the passageway at all times. You’re good with that staff or a cudgel, and I can trust you. You’re also older, and that helps.”

“Yes, ser.” Kharl wasn’t about to say no, not when Hagen had done so much for him. “If I might ask… is this Lord Ghrant’s consort?”

Hagen looked hard at Kharl.

“Ser… I don’t know much, but I heard that Dykaru was where Lord Ghrant’s from, and if you’re giving up your cabin, and want a guard all the time…” Kharl frowned. “But… maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but wouldn’t she have her own guards? Maybe I’m presuming too much…”

“You’re not presuming. I keep forgetting that you’ve seen more than most. It is the Lady Hyrietta, and she will have a detachment of guards. I don’t have the greatest trust in those guards, and they will be stationed outside the passageway, but I want you or one of the others in that passageway at all times, even when she or the boys are on deck. No one is to enter the cabin, except her, the boys, their nurse, and me. No one.”

“You’re thinking treachery, ser?”

“Ilteron is famous for that, and I want to make sure nothing happens on board the Seastag.” Hagen paused. “You and Ghart and Esamat are to be here when she comes aboard. I also want her to know that only the three of you—and Furwyl and Rhylla—are to be in that passageway, but none of the crew and officers except me are to enter the cabin.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Stand by somewhere on the decks. When you hear a carriage or mounts, join the others outside the hatchway on the main deck.”

“Yes, ser.” Kharl nodded.

“Ghart will have a cudgel for you—unless you’d prefer the staff.”

“Cudgel’d be better in the passageway, ser.”

“I thought as much.”

Kharl climbed down the ladder. The engineers had to be firing up the boilers, because he could smell coal as he moved forward, almost all the way to the bowsprit, where he stood at the railing and looked out at the city to the west, with its mostly shadowed shapes and intermittent torches and lamps. How many people out there knew that their futures hung on what happened between two brothers? And how many truly knew the alternative represented by each? Kharl knew that he didn’t. He’d heard bits and pieces, yet he suspected he’d heard more than most people. Was it always that way?

Not more than half a glass had passed before Kharl heard hoofs on the pier and the wheels of a carriage. He hurried aft to the hatchway leading to the captain’s quarters. Ghart and Esamat were already there.

Esamat looked at Kharl and smiled. “Even ‘fore the captain said it, figured you might be one.”

Kharl shrugged. “Surprised me.”

Both Ghart and Esamat laughed.

Kharl could hear Hagen’s voice coming from the quarterdeck, and another’s voice. Neither sounded pleased, but Kharl said nothing and neither did the two standing beside him. More time passed, and then a group of people moved across the dimness of the main deck, led by Hagen, who carried a lantern.

Behind Hagen was an undercaptain in the yellow and black of Lord Ghrant’s personal guards, followed by a young woman who had to be Lady Hyrietta. The Lady Hyrietta wore a dark blue cloak and a brimmed hat. Neither could hide that she was slender, if full-figured. Her dark hair had been braided and mostly tucked under the hat. Slightly behind her came her sons. The two boys were young. The older one held his mother’s hand. The younger was being carried by another woman, gray-haired, but not that much older than Kharl.

Hagen stopped short of the three sailors, inclining his head to the lady. “Lady Hyrietta, as I explained,” Hagen said, “these three men will be your inside guards. The tall one at the end is Kharl. He’s one of the ship’s carpenters. He also cleared almost the entire deck of a pirate vessel attacking us. The light-haired one is Esamat. He used to be an assassin in Hamor. While that was several years ago, he’s still quite good. Ghart is the second mate, and he served a tour as an undercaptain with Lord Est-loch. He’s also the one who killed Varrot.“

The faintest hint of a wry smile crossed Hyrietta’s heart-shaped face. “You take your duties most seriously, Lo—… Captain.”

“I know where my duty lies, lady. Now… let us proceed.” Hagen looked at Ghart. “You’ll have the first watch, Esamat the second, Kharl the third.”

“Yes, ser.”

“You three wait here.” Hagen turned to the undercaptain. “If you and your men would also wait here while we settle Lady Hyrietta and the heirs?”

The undercaptain nodded, politely, but with scarcely more than minimal approval.

Kharl surveyed the armsmen who stood behind the undercaptain. There were twelve, and they ranged in age from one barely a few years older than Arthal to one close to Kharl’s age. The undercaptain was bearded and graying, an older officer who had made his way through the ranks, Kharl surmised.

Hagen returned shortly and immediately addressed the undercaptain. “You understand the arrangements. Your men will guard the hatchway here, on the outside. The only people to enter the passageway are me, the officers, and these three men.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl could tell that the undercaptain was not totally pleased with the arrangement.

Hagen offered a smile. “No man does two jobs well. Your men only worry about one area, and mine only worry about one.”

The undercaptain nodded.

Hagen looked to Kharl and Esamat. “You two best get some sleep. You’ll be roused in your turn with the rest of the duty.”

“Yes, ser.”

Neither Kharl nor Esamat spoke until they were back on the main deck and well back from the two personal guards in yellow and black.