L. Modesitt - Wellspring of Chaos

“Lord Ghrant will have to listen to him now,” Furwyl replied. “He’ll soon be wishing that he had earlier, if he’s not already.”

“Lord Ghrant is already listening,” Kharl replied.

Ghart smiled knowingly.

“Now that you’re aboard, Master Kharl…” suggested Furwyl.

“I’m more than ready, captain.”

Furwyl stepped back. “Single up!”

The bosun’s whistle shrilled, and Bemyr’s voice boomed out. “Single up. Make it lively!”

“Best I stow my gear,” Kharl said. “What I have.”

“Ah…Master Kharl,” Ghart said. “You’ll not be minding that we took the liberty of putting your other things in the captain’s cabin as well.”

“Hardly. Thank you.” The carpenter-mage shook his head. “Seems strange to go from the fo’c’s’le aft.”

“Happens to us all, ser. You’ll get used to it.” Ghart smiled. “Remember when I had the smallest cubby on the Seasprite .”

Left unsaid was the knowledge that very few seamen made the transition out of the forecastle.

Kharl nodded and made his way past the deck crew. Seeing Reisl and Hodal there, he smiled at the two. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, Master Kharl,” replied Reisl. “Wasn’t sure we would when you fell off that horse.” The deckhand grinned.

“I wasn’t either,” Kharl admitted. “I don’t do well with horses. You could tell that.” Belatedly realizing that he’d distracted the deck crew, he added, “Best let you get back to listening to Bemyr.”

“Aye…”

As Kharl stepped away, toward the hatchway leading to the captain’s quarters, he could hear the voices behind him.

“…always said…something strange…”

“Strange or not, saved our asses more ’n once…” replied Reisl.

“…never shirked any duty…” added Hodal.

Kharl wished he could thank the two for their words, but that would just have embarrassed them.

After stowing his bag in the captain’s cabin-and he somehow felt guilty, no matter what Hagen and Furwyl said-Kharl made his way out and up to the poop deck. There he stationed himself at the port railing, watching quietly as Furwyl guided the Seastag away from the pier and into the narrow channel leading to the Great Western Ocean.

Astern of the ship, the white walls and tiled roofs of Dykaru dwindled slowly under the cool and clear greenish blue sky. Ahead, there were but the slightest of whitecaps on the low and rolling swells of the endless gray-blue waters.

Only when the Seastag was well clear of the harbor did Kharl approach the captain, standing beside the steering platform and slightly forward of the helm. The engineman stood to starboard and aft of the wheel.

“How long a trip, this time?”

“We’re low on coal, but we’ve got favoring winds,” Furwyl replied. “I’d guess four, maybe five days to Cantyl.”

Five days…five days before he set foot on lands that were his. That…that still seemed more like a dream. But he would see. He certainly would. In the meantime, he watched the sea and the shrinking outline of the coast.

Once the Seastag was well clear of the coast, Kharl climbed down the ladder and crossed the main deck, making his way to the carpenter shop.

Tarkyn looked up from his stool and the scrimshaw he had been carving. “Wondered if you’d get down to see an old carpenter.” Tarkyn’s voice was gruff as usual. “Or if you’d forgot where you started.”

“Don’t think I’ll ever forget that,” Kharl replied.

“What happened to the staff? You still have it somewhere?”

“No. Got broken in the fight with the wizards.”

“Must have been a real fight. Didn’t think anything could break it.”

“Wizardry and magery did.” After a moment, Kharl added, “Fighting wizardry did.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d make it. You more like fell off that horse when you brought Lord Ghrant back.”

“I wasn’t either. Felt like I’d been run over by a herd of lancers’ mounts. That was when I woke up days later. Wouldn’t let me do much for more than an eightday.”

“You get more than parchment from Lord Ghrant?”

“They tell me I’ve got some land-rocks, trees, and a vineyard-and some coins. Took what they offered. Probably stupid not to have asked for more.”

“Probably,” Tarkyn agreed amiably. “Coin’s never been something that meant the most to you, though.” He studied Kharl, a twinkle in his eyes. “Still…pretty fancy cloth you’re wearing.”

Kharl laughed. “It’s plain compared to what the lords and their servants wear. Feels good though. They gave it to me when they found out I had an audience with Lord Ghrant.”

“Wagered something like that. What are you going to do now? Don’t think you’re going to come back to carpentering now that you’re a landed lord.”

“Not a lord, but I did get some land.” Kharl shook his head. “Still trying to figure out what to do next, whether I ought to try to get back to Brysta.”

“You don’t forget, do you?”

For a moment, Kharl was taken aback by the question. “No…I’d guess not.” But he wasn’t sure what he wasn’t forgetting, not exactly. Or rather, he didn’t want to say that he wasn’t forgetting the injustice he’d experienced and seen in too many forms. Charee hadn’t cared for his feelings that way. Sanyle had understood, but most surprisingly to Kharl, Jeka had. He wondered how she was doing, but he could only hope that Gharan had managed to keep her on in his shop. He still felt guilty about leaving her, but at the time, he hadn’t been sure what else he could have done.

“Don’t like to forgive those folks who do evil, either.”

Kharl couldn’t deny that, either.

“Understand that,” Tarkyn went on. “Don’t let revenge get in the way of doing what needs to be done.”

“Try not to.” Kharl paused, then added, “Thank you. For teaching me when I didn’t know enough. For making sure I did learn.”

“Be a piss-poor carpenter if I didn’t.”

“You’ve always been a good one.”

“What I wanted. Nothing more.” Tarkyn laughed. “Mostly, anyway.”

“Isn’t it that way always?”

They both laughed.

In time, when Kharl made his way back topside, Tarkyn’s words echoed through his thoughts- Don’t let revenge get in the way of doing what needs to be done . Don’t let revenge get in the way…deep inside, was he after revenge-targeted against Egen and Justicer Reynol? Or against all those in power in Brysta?

Could he not just accept his good fortune in Austra, where he had become recognized and been rewarded?

He looked to port, out at the long coastline lying on the horizon. He had wanted to have his own place in Austra.

The trip northward along the eastern coast of Austra was both uneventful and slow. While there were following winds, as Furwyl had hoped, they were light. Kharl used some of the time, as he could, talking to Furwyl and the mates, and especially to Tarkyn, whom he felt he had come to know later than the others.

On the afternoon of the sixth day after leaving Dykaru, Furwyl fired up the engines to bring the Seastag into Cantyl. Kharl stood at the poop railing, watching as the rounded headland to port grew ever larger. In the black leather bag waiting below, with his garments, was the parchment patent conveying Cantyl to him from Lord Ghrant, a patent that also conveyed the lands to his heirs in perpetuity.

As Hagen had told him, the harbor at Cantyl was small, with the headland he had been watching to the south of the harbor-a fjiordlike bay-and a low line of cliffs to the north. The entrance to the bay was less than a kay in width, with steep cliffs more than a hundred cubits in height to the south and lower cliffs, perhaps twenty cubits above the gray water-to the north. The sails had been furled a half glass earlier, and with but the faintest of breezes, the Seastag ’s paddle wheels carried the ship through the mouth of the harbor and into the bay, an irregular shape that might have fit in a square two kays on a side.