L. Modesitt - Wellspring of Chaos

“You are most kind, ser.” Kharl, although wary, could sense neither malice nor deception.

“Most grateful, Ser Kharl.” Ghrant cleared his throat. “Lord Hagen will brief you on the details, but I did want to express my gratitude to you personally. My lady also conveys her thanks, as do my sons.” Ghrant smiled, an expression both warm, polished, and somehow tired, then stood.

Kharl rose as well. “I am glad I was able to be of service, and I am very glad that you remain Lord of Austra.”

“Let us hope that all my subjects come to that happy conclusion as well, ser Kharl.”

When Kharl stepped out of the study, Hagen was waiting.

“Ser Kharl.”

“Lord-chancellor.” Kharl inclined his head.

“We need to discuss a few more details. Lord Ghrant is often brief to the point of being cryptic.” Hagen’s smile was rueful. “Filling in those details seems to be a large part of being lord-chancellor.”

Kharl followed Hagen a good fifty cubits down the corridor to another unmarked door, which opened into a very small chamber holding but a circular table and four chairs, and a narrow, east-facing window.

Hagen did not sit down after he closed the door. “Lord Ghrant and I came to an agreement. Cantyl is set on and adjoining a headland southeast of Valmurl. The lands succeeded to Lord Estloch several years ago, but they are near none of his holdings. They consist of a small but good vineyard, some excellent timberlands, one small and fertile valley, and some most rocky hills, which provide a certain isolation. I thought you might appreciate the timberlands and possibly the isolation. There is just one rough road that eventually winds to Valmurl, but a very good, if small, natural harbor. The lands are well managed, and those who do so would like to stay. And there will be a considerable stipend for five years, and a modest one thereafter.”

Kharl nodded. He was not quite sure what to say.

Hagen produced a plain leather purse. “Your stipend is one hundred golds a year for the first five years, and fifty thereafter for the following ten. This holds an additional fifty, not counted against the stipend, for your expenses and travel to Cantyl.”

Kharl managed not to swallow. He’d never seen twenty-five golds at one time, let alone fifty, and probably never held more than ten at once ever-and the purse was only incidental.

“Lord Ghrant does not anticipate this, but would wish to reserve the right to call upon your services occasionally.”

That did make sense, unfortunately.

“You’re still not sure whether you’d want to go back to Brysta, if you could, are you?” asked Hagen. “Master and Ser Kharl.”

“No…” Kharl paused. “I’d thought about it, but I’m certainly not welcome there.” He smiled wryly. “I had thought about staying in Austra-but as a cooper. I’d never thought…”

“I hadn’t either, when you asked me for passage,” Hagen replied.

“Strange…” mused Kharl.

Hagen laughed. “You should have been a lord in Brysta, but Lord Ghrant’s powers do not extend that far.”

“Why did you press my case so far with Lord Ghrant?” Kharl asked.

“There are several reasons. First, Lord Ghrant must understand that loyalty is rewarded. I can say such, but if I do not press for it, then my words mean little. Also, you’re a powerful mage, Kharl. But you need to know more to use that power effectively. Whether you choose to stay here-and if you do, and you learn what you must-I’d not be surprised if Lord Ghrant would call on you for aid and advice, and you will serve yourself and those around you far better for having a standing well gained in battle…”

Kharl could sense the caution in Hagen, and he almost laughed. Even Hagen was worried about his power. The laughter died within him as he considered what that meant. Would he have to worry about everyone now? Whether they would use him and his powers, or try to manipulate him from afar, through others?

“I can see you understand,” Hagen said.

“I almost did not,” Kharl confessed.

“The Seastag is leaving tomorrow for Valmurl. I’ve arranged for Furwyl to make a stop at Cantyl. They’ll be expecting you.”

“Who will?”

“The estate steward. That’s Speltar. Lord Ghrant sent a messenger informing him an eightday ago.”

“Lord Ghrant…or you?” asked Kharl wryly.

“I did have something to do with it, but he had to accept my recommendation.”

“I hope it didn’t cost you too much.”

“Nothing at all. He’d much rather be indebted to you than, say, Lord Deroh.”

The name meant nothing to Kharl.

“Oh…and you’ll be traveling as a passenger. As an honored passenger in my quarters.”

“I couldn’t take…” Kharl paused. “You won’t be on board?”

“No. I’ll be with Lord Ghrant and his family…riding in triumph back across Austra.”

Kharl realized something else. By not accompanying Lord Ghrant, his role in saving the lord would be diminished. There were advantages and disadvantages to that for him, but clearly only advantages for Ghrant.

“So that he can show his banner and reassure everyone?”

“That is most necessary,” Hagen affirmed. “Long and tiring as the journey will be by road.”

“The crew won’t mind me as a passenger?”

“Not at all. They know you saved us all from having to leave Austra, and they’re more than ready to leave Dykaru and to get back to Valmurl.” Hagen smiled. “I’m famished. Are you ready to join me in a quiet meal? With no discussion about rulers and their duties?”

Kharl was.

As Kharl walked down the last few rods of the pier toward the waiting Seastag, the light breeze swirled the odor of burning coal around him, confirming that the ship was indeed making ready to cast off. He stopped just short of the gangway and looked westward, out over the white walls of Dykaru, and the orangish brown tile roofs, brilliant in the direct morning sunlight, then turned back toward the ship.

Ghart was grinning as Kharl walked up the gangway, carrying the new leather bag-black, of course-that contained equally new garments.

“Do anything to get out of the fo’c’s’le, wouldn’t you?” offered the new first mate.

“I tried.” Kharl couldn’t help grinning in return. “Even to keeping you from a bigger cabin.”

“Only for a few days. Then you’ll go off as lord of leisure.”

“Not a lord. Just a minor landholder, with some rocky hills and a vineyard, I’m told. And a few trees. Maybe enough to set up a cooperage.”

Ghart shook his head. “Cooper, carpenter, warrior, mage…and now you’re going to be a lord.”

“No…just a minor landholder,” Kharl protested.

Ghart began to laugh. Finally, he stopped and looked at Kharl. “Being a landholder’s worse than magery. Mages understand magery. No one understands what landholders do.” There was the hint of a twinkle in the first mate’s eyes.

Kharl could understand Ghart’s amusement-and appreciated the fact that Ghart was amused, rather than resentful or jealous. “Maybe I’ll learn enough to know why no one does…”

“You might at that.” Ghart’s head turned.

Kharl glanced to his left, his eyes taking in the figure crossing the main deck to the quarterdeck-Furwyl, now wearing a blue master’s jacket. “Master Kharl…”

“Captain.”

“Aye, and we’ve all gone up a little in the world, you more than us, I’d wager.” Furwyl’s smile was also warm and welcoming. “Though I’d not be saying that Lord Hagen is enjoying his fortune so much as us.”

Kharl chuckled at Furwyl’s observation. “The highland lords respect his abilities, perhaps more than do others.”