L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

Rahl nodded, then waited for the mate and Galsyn to rise before following them out of the mess and onto the forward deck.

The early-afternoon air was pleasant, if brisk, and the ship was only pitching moderately in strong swells rising out of the southwest. He walked to the bow, then realized that he’d be soaked before long from the fine spray coming off the bow, and retreated to a position just forward of the starboard paddle wheels.

“Young man, you are the assistant purser, are you not?” The voice was firm-and feminine.

Rahl turned, then paused, because the question had been addressed to him in Hamorian, and the woman who had asked it was the one whom all the crew stared at, and at whom all the male officers tried to avoid staring. She was black-haired and black-eyed, with flawless skin that carried a faint hint of almond. Although concealed somewhat by trousers and a black vest, her shape was clearly one of those alluded to by Galsyn.

Abruptly, Rahl dropped his eyes just slightly and tried to remember the honorifics in Hamorian. “Yes, honored lady.”

She smiled, and Rahl wondered what he had said wrong.

“If I offended you, honored lady, I beg your pardon. I am still learning Hamorian.”

“You speak it as a native, young man, if as a native of Atla who lived in Merowey. No, I was amused because you clearly did not wish to offend, yet you were more than properly respectful, unlike so many of those in the north. That is so refreshing.” She turned to the dark-haired handsome but muscular man with her and nodded. “You may leave us, Bartold.”

The man inclined his head and stepped away, although he retreated only so far as the base of the foremast, and his eyes remained on Rahl.

“How might I be of service?” Rahl asked.

Rahl could sense the amusement, and he wondered if he’d used the wrong term for service, but he waited politely.

“You may talk with me for now. There are few on board who have the time or the inclination.”

“For a while, lady. Later, I will have to work.”

“Accounts of sorts?”

Rahl nodded.

“This vessel seems small for both a purser and an assistant.”

While she hadn’t exactly asked a question, that was the fashion in which polite Hamorian society made an inquiry, according to Magister Thorl, and Rahl replied. “It is to make me more aware. I’m being sent as a clerk to the Nylan Merchant Association in Swartheld.”

“Those individuals of less-than-perfect parentage who manage that establishment could use more of the courtesy you exhibit,” replied the woman.

At least, that was what Rahl thought she had said. “I will try to be polite to all.”

“Politeness never hurts, Rahl, especially if you give nothing except courtesy and what was paid for.”

“I will keep that in my thoughts.” Rahl didn’t know the expression he really wanted to use.

“And in your mind.”

“Thank you.”

“I have seen you sparring. For one who claims little experience, you exhibit much craft.”

“My father taught me the truncheon early. Blades I learned later, and not so well.”

She offered a knowing nod, then gestured out at the ocean and the seemingly endless swells, just high enough to show occasional traces of foam. “The ocean appears to have no end when one can see no land.”

“This is my first voyage.” And possibly my last, he thought to himself. “You must travel often.”

“More than I would prefer, but I cannot find the…assistants and servants I need for my enterprises just in Hamor. Those who purchase from me often have particular needs.” She shrugged. “One does what one must.”

“You must have a number of indentured servants, then.” That was a guess.

“More than most, but my needs are greater. You are from the north of Recluce, I would judge.”

“I am. You are more perceptive than I would be.”

“Although you have black hair, your skin is fair, and your eyes are blue. Likewise, you are taller and broader across the shoulders than most men. Those traits are more likely in men from the northern reaches. You will find that you are taller than most men in Hamor. That may not be to your advantage outside of your trading house.”

“I am among the taller men in Recluce, but there are many who are as large or larger.”

“Size is not everything, young Rahl. Neither is strength.”

Rahl nodded. He’d heard that often enough. “Can you tell me about Hamor?”

“I could, but then you would not see it through your eyes.” She smiled.

He could sense concern, calculation, and a hint of cruelty behind the words. He also could see Galsyn appear from the port hatchway, looking around.

The woman caught his look and half turned. “I see that the purser is looking for you. Perhaps we will talk later.”

“I would appreciate that, lady.” Rahl inclined his head.

She did not say more as Rahl eased around her and crossed the width of the deck toward the purser.

“Ser?”

“Oh, Rahl…I wasn’t looking for you. Have you seen the third?”

“No, ser.” He paused, then asked, “Ser, who is the Hamorian lady?”

“I’m not certain she’s properly a lady.” Galsyn laughed. “Her name is Valdra Elamira, but I think the Elamira isn’t really a name.”

It meant something like “of great wonder,” Rahl thought, but he only said, “She’s traveling with a consort, although he looks younger.”

“He’s a combination of bodyguard and lover. The captain says that she is the mistress of a number of brothels in Swartheld and in Cigoerne. She is quite wealthy.”

Rahl managed neither to flush nor groan.

“She’s had her eye on you.” Galsyn grinned. “It might be fun. A bit older, but most attractive.”

“I think I’d worry about the bodyguard,” Rahl demurred. He was good with his truncheon, but against a true bravo?

“Wouldn’t hurt to talk to her and be polite,” Galsyn pointed out.

“I was, and I will be.”

“None of my business, Rahl…but what did you do to get posted to Swartheld?”

How could he answer that without revealing too much? After a moment, he smiled ruefully. “I made some mistakes that I shouldn’t have. Things that they felt I could have avoided if I’d just thought things out. I’d rather not say what.”

Galsyn laughed. “Sooner or later, that’s true for all of us. Sometimes, the best we can do is survive our mistakes.”

“Was that how you got here?”

“That’s why I never got further than the Diev. It’s not a bad life as a purser. I get to see places I’d never see otherwise. I’ve got enough coins for what I need. I’ve got a decent cabin and a full belly, and I work for a good captain. One thing about Merchant Association ships…not a bad captain in the lot. Some are better than others, but the worst are better than the best from some places.”

“Like Jerans?” guessed Rahl.

“Or Biehl…or Hydlen.” Galsyn surveyed the deck. “Don’t see Carthold. I’ll get back to you later.”

“Yes, ser.”

After Galsyn turned and headed aft, Rahl glanced around the forward deck, but apparently Valdra had returned to her cabin or climbed the ladder to the bridge deck and moved aft far enough that he could not see her. Even before Galsyn had told him about her, Rahl had been a bit on edge.

He decided to find a quiet spot and force himself to study The Basis of Order. He might learn something new, although he doubted it.

After more than two eightdays, Rahl was more than a little tired of life at sea. The Hamorian lady Valdra had quietly avoided Rahl, as if she had measured him and found him wanting, and that nagged at him. He wasn’t that interested in her, but he didn’t like being enticed and dismissed. Especially by a brothel mistress, or whatever the proper term might be.