L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“Yes, ser.” The steward smiled tentatively.

Kharl was glad that he could solve one problem. He had the feeling that, while he didn′t know what others he faced, not in detail, setting Fundal’s mind at ease would be one of the easier tasks before him.

Kharl should have been tired, he supposed, after the long trip to Brysta, but he hadn’t been. So after unpacking and hanging out his clothes in the capacious wardrobe in his chambers, he had made his way down to the study and gone through the ledgers, line by line. From what he could tell,Fundal was honest, relatively frugal, and probably without imagination or more than modest initiative. Several of the suppliers of provender and other goods for the residence were not sellers Kharl would have chosen, even with unlimited golds, and over time those would need to be changed.

Nowhere in the residence library were there any records of what previous envoys might have done as envoys, nor was there a history of recent events in Brysta. Even the leather-bound volumes on the dark oak shelves were old and stiff enough that Kharl doubted most had ever been read, even when new.

He, Erdyl, and Demyst had taken an early supper, and Kharl had gone back to the library afterward. There, he had drawn up a listing of what he thought needed to be done, based on what he recalled of the verbal instructions Hagen had given him. Doubtless he would miss things. He’d not been raised as a lord.

Then, for a time, he had just sat in the darkness and thought, wondering about Warrl, Jeka, and Sanyle … and, always, there was the sadness about Arthal.

His first inclination was to deal with Warrl and the young women as soon as possible, preferably on the morrow, but, as Taleas the scrivener had pointed out, acting before thinking had been his undoing more than once. Painful as it was, he would do better to proceed carefully. If Warrl remained safe with Merayni and Dowsyl, then rushing in would do no good. If something had happened because of the so-called brigands, whatever Kharl might do was already too late. That thought nagged at him, and he had to force it away.

The same held for Jeka. If she was still working for Gharan as a weaver, then she was safe. If not, he could scour the city for her-or even all of the West Quadrant-and never find her. As for Sanyle, he hadn’t even known where she had gone before he’d left Brysta.

Could he employ Erdyl to look around?

Kharl shook his head. The secretary was likely to be watched in some ways even more closely than Kharl himself, and if Kharl gave any premature indication of interest in his son or the young women, Egen or Lord West would not be above using them against Kharl and Austra, even if they had no idea what the linkage was. Nor would the Hamorians. After Kharl had sent Erdyl on various errands, he might be able to work things in, but not first off. That also meant that, when Kharl acted, he would have to act decisively and quickly.

He did not sleep well. He woke early, washed, dressed, and ate, then went to his study-library.

Erdyl was still yawning when Kharl summoned him into the library.

“Have you eaten yet this morning?”

“Yes, ser. I just finished. What would you like of me?”

“You get to scour the hoops,” Kharl said. “The dirty work. Write out a fancy letter to Lord West saying that I’ve just arrived from Valmurl as Lord Ghrant’s appointed envoy to the West Quadrant of Nordla and would like to pay my respects to Lord West and present my credentials to him in person, as is usual and customary.”

″Ah … you shouldn’t say it’s usual and customary.″

“But I can say that I wish to present myself and the credentials in person?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Then … you write it as you think best, and I’ll sign it, and then you get to deliver it. When you do, be charming, but most insistent that Lord West see it. Listen for names. While you’re writing that, I’ll be at the Factors’ Exchange, first, arranging for the transfer of golds to the residence account. After that, we’ll come back. I’ll sign the letter. Then I’ll have the driver take me to the Hall of Justice. I’ll introduce myself as a visiting scholar. The driver can take you to deliver the message, and then come back and find me.”

“You’re not going alone, ser?”

“No. I’ll take Undercaptain Demyst. You take either Cevor or Alynar with you.”

Erdyl nodded. “Yes, ser.”

“You can use the library here to write out that letter.” Kharl picked up the leather case that held his credentials and the authorizations to draw on the account at the Factors’ Exchange, then walked out into the main foyer, catching sight of himself in one of the full-length mirrors set into the wall. Without the beard, his hair cut short, and wearing the dark gray tunic trimmed in Austran green, and the black jacket, he looked like a different man. Then, in many ways, he was.

“Fundal!”

Even before Kharl’s call finished echoing through the main foyer, the steward appeared.

“Ser?”

“We’re heading to the Factors’ Exchange. They should be open on fiveday. ″

“Yes, ser. They close on sevenday afternoon and on eightday. You want me to accompany you?”

“They know you. They don’t know me.”

“But everyone has heard that a new envoy has arrived from Valmurl.”

“What else have they heard?”

“Just that you are a strong supporter of Lord Ghrant and that you were effective in the battles that ended the rebellion.”

Kharl looked hard at Fundal. “How would they know that?”

“Ser … you are the envoy. Lord Ghrant is the ruler. Anyone he sent would have to be a supporter who had been effective.”

Kharl could detect no sense of deceit or chaos … or even something withheld. Still … for some reason, Fundal’s statement bothered him. Was it because everyone who dealt with power would draw similar conclusions? Or that Kharl would have to accept such sharpness, even in secretaries and stewards-and even greater perception among those whom those underlings served? Those thoughts were disturbing enough, and once Lord West and the other envoys heard from their spies in Austra, more would be known about Kharl than he would have preferred.

“Ser?”

“Let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you have the golds to resupply the residence and pay the retainers, and the sooner I can get on to what I need to do.”

“Ser?”

“I’m also a scholar of justice. You can tell people that.”

Fundal’s brow crinkled, but the steward did not say more.

The trip to the Factors’ Exchange was short, less than a kay downhill and south to an old structure above the now-unused and marshy waters that had once been the back bay. Not all that far from the White Pony, Kharl reflected although it was farther to the east.

When they alighted from the carriage, Kharl was vaguely surprised to see a pair of Watch patrollers on the opposite corner, wearing maroon-and-blue uniforms of a type he had not seen when he had left Brysta. Yet neither appeared to be watching the Factors’ Exchange.

At the Exchange, Fundal introduced him to the bursar and head clerk. Kharl produced his credentials and authentications, then transferred one hundred golds from the drawing account into the residence account. At that, Fundal looked noticeably relieved. Kharl hoped the relief was from normal worry, but he resolved to watch the accounts closely.

By the time they returned to the residence, Erdyl had finished a draft letter, but it took almost a glass before Kharl and Erdyl were both satisfied, and Kharl signed the missive, somewhat more flowery than he would have preferred, but the minimum necessary according to Erdyl.