L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“Don’t envy you, Lord Kharl. You can have the carriage and finery and all that.”

“That’s because you love the sea.”

“Could be. Treacherous as she can be, she’s not half so treacherous as most lords and rulers, excepting you and Lord Hagen. But you two aren’t like most lords.”

“You’re kind.” Kharl wondered if that happened to be because Hagen had been a captain and factor more than a lord, and because Kharl himself had not had a chance to learn treachery.

“I see what I see.”

Kharl laughed. “I’d best be getting my gear. I see young Erdyl heading this way. Thank you again for surrendering your cabin.”

“For you, I’d do that anytime.” Furwyl glanced toward the main deck, where Reisl was directing the deck crew on opening the main hatch and setting up to unload. “Best watch the new bosun.”

Kharl thought Reisl would do well, but he just nodded, and let Furwyl head down the ladder. He followed, but went to the master’s cabin.

Cevor was waiting in the passage. “Thought we’d be taking your bags, ser.”

“They’re ready.”

Kharl let the guards lead the way off the Seastag. He followed, carrying only the large leather case that held documents, letters, and his credentials. Around his waist, inside his tunic and jacket, was a shimmersilk bodybelt that held golds, over five hundred. He felt as though he wore lead. That much gold was heavy.

Furwyl turned from where he watched the deck crew. “You take care, Lord Kharl.”

“You, too.” Kharl turned and headed down the gangway to the waiting carriage, a carriage that the driver had turned, carefully, on the wide pier, so that it was headed off the pier and toward the city.

Undercaptain Demyst was waiting at the foot of the gangway. “Cevor and Alynar will go with the baggage cart. Don’t want your things disappearing. ″

″Thank you.″ Kharl looked up at the driver, a small man neither youngnor old, with a weathered face, who wore a coachman’s jacket of green trimmed in black.

“Ser?”

“I’m Lord Kharl. You’re the driver?”

“Yes, your lordship. I’m Mantar. Been with Fundal for near-on half a score.”

“You’ve seen a few envoys come and go, then.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl smiled. “Well … I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.”

Kharl stepped into the coach, where he was joined shortly by Erdyl and Demyst. In but a few moments they were under way.

“Brysta looks bigger than Valmurl,” Erdyl said.

“Valmurl is more spread out,” Kharl suggested. “There are more towns nearby. Not everyone lives in the city, like in Brysta.”

“Brysta looks older,” added the undercaptain.

“I think many of the buildings and dwellings are.”

Kharl cleared his throat.

“Ser?” asked Demyst.

“I’d like to remind you both not to mention … my talents with order. Not to the steward or the retainers at the residence. Not to anyone.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl turned to Demyst. “You will remind Cevor and Alynar, as well.”

“I have told them both that they will answer to me, to you, and to Lord Hagen if they so much as hint.”

“Good. Thank you.” It might not help, but Hagen had made the suggestion, and usually what the lord-chancellor suggested was wise.

The carriage rumbled up Cargo Lane until it reached Eighth Cross. There the driver turned westward. Eighth Cross sloped upward for another half kay before descending. After the crest, they traveled two long blocks before the carriage slowed, then turned in through a wide brick gate, before coming to a halt in a brick-paved courtyard on the left side of the dwelling.

From the carriage, Kharl took in the residence, a structure a good three times the size of the main house at Cantyl. The walls were of a rough brownstone, with wide mullioned windows, trimmed in dark green. The pitched roofs were of dark slate, and the front wall was of dark red brick, with two gates, the carriage gate, and a smaller gate with a brick archway above it.

A gray-haired man, wearing a black-trimmed green tunic, hurried down the brick walk. He stumbled on a protruding brick, but caught himself.

Erdyl opened the carriage door and stepped out, holding the door for Kharl. The mage and envoy eased through the narrow door and stepped onto the ancient brick pavement.

“Lord Kharl?” The man took in Kharl slowly.

“I am Lord Kharl.” Kharl hated to announce himself as a lord.

“Yes, Lord Kharl. I’m sorry I did not recognize you, but no likeness was sent. I am Fundal, the residence steward.”

“I understand. This is Erdyl, my secretary, and this is Undercaptain Demyst. The two guards I brought are with the baggage wagon. It was following us.”

“Ah … two guards?”

“I thought guards were customary.”

“Yes, ser. Lord Hensolas brought half a squad, added more later, and two secretaries, and his … cousin … Genya, of course.”

Kharl smiled. “Then we should have plenty of room.”

“More than enough, ser. More than enough.” Fundal bowed. “Let me show you the residence.”

Undercaptain Demyst smiled politely. “I’ll be going first, if you will, steward.” He stepped toward the side steps leading up to the covered porch that wrapped around the front of the dwelling.

“Of course, undercaptain, of course.”

His case under his arm, Kharl followed the steward.

“This is the front porch. Lovely in the morning. Lord Isel always took breakfast here. The rear porch, of course, is more private. It has seen many summer functions …”

Kharl said little as Fundal took Kharl through the main sitting room, the front salon, the library, which also served as the envoy’s study, the long dining room, the adjoining breakfast room, the rear salon, which opened onto the covered rear porch, which, in turn, overlooked the small formal garden, the kitchen, and the various pantries. Then Fundal led them to the basement, which held various cellars, as well as a strong room. They returned to the main foyer and climbed the wide grand staircase to the second level, which held five large bedchambers, and two bath chambers, one of which was attached to the envoy’s bedchamber and sitting room. The third level held six smaller chambers, including those for Erdyl and the undercaptain.

“Your guards … now there’s a barracks quarters over the stable … and that adjoins the other staff quarters,” ventured Fundal.

“With only two, it would be better to have them on the third level,” Kharl suggested. “They’d be closer.”

“Yes, ser,” interjected Demyst.

“Third level, it is,” affirmed the steward.

“Do we have mounts for riding?” asked Kharl.

“Why, yes, ser … but for your guards and your secretary. That is, when you need the carriage. The past envoys … they have not ridden in Brysta.”

“I imagine not.” Kharl nodded, but was glad to know that the mounts were available.

While the bags were being carried to the various quarters, and before he did more, Kharl drew Fundal aside into the library.

“Yes, ser?”

“I was led to believe, Fundal, that you were concerned that the residence accounts were short of coins?”

“Yes, ser. I can show you the ledgers. We have less than twenty golds on account at the Factors’ Exchange. Prices … well, for everything … they’ve been higher this year. Almost no produce coming from the south, they say. The brigands … or something. You hadn’t come in the next few eightdays … I can’t say that I could see how we’d have lasted.”

“Leave the ledgers out on the desk here. I’ll look them over after we get settled, and we’ll take care of the accounts first thing in the morning.”