L. Modesitt - Wellspring of Chaos

“Not now. She was hung by Lord West for murder. She didn’t do it…” Kharl gave as brief a description as he could of what had happened. “…and that was how I got to be a carpenter on the Seastag .”

“Daresay you left out a lot.”

Kharl nodded.

“Your sons…not real grateful, were they?”

“Don’t think young people ever are. They know better. I did, too, back when I was their age.”

“Is that what happened with your consort?”

Kharl didn’t understand the question.

Herana laughed…softly. “My problem. Everyone got consorted. So did I. Then I discovered he didn’t love me, just wanted children…sons.”

“You couldn’t have any.” Kharl shook his head. “No…maybe I didn’t want the children enough. Was always trying to do more, bring in more coins, so that we’d have enough…”

“Were you in love with her?” asked Herana. “Your consort?”

The question was a shock. Kharl bit off a retort. Why was she asking? He looked at her, but he didn’t sense anything from Herana except concern, and certainly there was no trace of chaos around her. Finally, he said, “At times…I still miss her…”

“That’s not the same.”

It wasn’t. Kharl knew that. He also wondered if that was why he tried not to think about Charee much. “When we were younger…she was good-looking, not quite a beauty, but she turned heads. I thought I was in love…”

“Now you aren’t sure?”

“There’s more than a few things I’m not sure about these days,” Kharl admitted. He forced a grin. “Like why you’re so interested in a carpenter second.”

“Because you’re honest, and when you’re not, you’re trying to be…Not that many men who are. Because I’m either the one giving orders or taking them. Because it’s good to talk with someone not on the Southshield . Because…whatever happens…you’re not the kind to be nasty…” She looked directly at him. “Enough said?”

Kharl couldn’t help but smile. “Enough said.” He doubted that Herana would ever be more than a friend, but he had none, and certainly none who had sought him out.

“Ghart says you’re more than a carpenter…”

“Not yet. I’m not as good a ship’s carpenter as I should be.”

A roll of laughter from two tables away was so loud that neither could speak for a moment.

“…and if you think I’d believe that, Lord Ghrant is as well-endowed as a prize bull…”

“…and your mother has whiskers tougher than iron nails…”

Kharl could sense the chaos rising around the table. He touched Herana’s arm “…need to get out of here…along the wall there…”

The two were almost to the doorway when the table went over and men piled into each other. They kept moving until they were out in the cool twilight air.

Kharl took a deep breath.

“You knew that was coming,” Herana said.

“I heard the words.”

“You knew.”

“I had a feeling,” Kharl admitted. “Took me a while to learn that it’s best not to ignore those feelings.” He nodded toward the harbor. “I probably ought to get back.”

She nodded.

They turned toward the harbor.

Kharl had been back aboard the Seastag for almost two glasses, a good glass after sunset, and according to Rhylla, no wagons had shown up with cargo. Nor had Hagen set a day or time for leaving, except that he expected that they could sail anytime in the next few days.

Because he’d been so restless that he knew he couldn’t read or sleep-especially as early in the evening as it was, he’d made his way back topside and settled out of sight against the railing near the bowsprit, warm enough in his winter jacket and gloves. He was trying to sort out too many matters-from what he felt about what had happened over the past year to where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. He really had no answers, not ones that made much sense, and what he read in The Basis of Order confused him as often as it explained things.

The ale he’d had with Herana had made several things clear. First, he definitely missed feminine companionship. Second, he liked Herana’s company, but that was all. And third, he’d lacked a closeness with Charee for a long time, something he’d missed without knowing it. Or perhaps, he just had come to accept matters as they had come to be.

At the sound of hoofs on the pier, unusual after sunset, Kharl turned and looked down and aft. A rider had reined up and dismounted. He started up the gangway, and his voice carried. “Captain Hagen! Captain Hagen!”

Although the single lantern from the quarterdeck cast but faint illumination, Kharl thought the man wore a uniform, but not the black and yellow of Ghrant’s personal guards.

Kharl turned and moved aft, slipping around the paddle wheel frame in the darkness. He decided to try to cloak himself by using order, and concentrated on having the light flow around him. The dimness that surrounded him turned into absolute blackness, and for a moment he stopped, disoriented. He made an effort to sense his surroundings and, more slowly, continued toward the quarterdeck.

The evening deck watchstander was Ghart, and he was talking to the newcomer.

“I’ve called the captain, ser, and he should be here in a moment.”

Sensing Hagen coming from aft, Kharl stepped back, as quietly as he could. While no one could see him, people could still hear him, and Hagen could certainly walk into him, and that would not be what Kharl wanted.

“Captain,” offered the slender man.

“Majer…my cabin?” asked Hagen.

“I…think not. Perhaps aft and above.”

“As you wish.” Hagen turned and crossed the deck.

The majer followed, and then, quietly, so did Kharl, several paces back, cautiously, climbing the ladder up to the poop well after Hagen and the majer. Kharl stopped less than five cubits from Hagen and the other man, possibly the son of a lord, as well as an officer, Kharl judged, certainly someone of high stature from his few words and carriage.

“…would do almost aught to support Lord Ghrant,” Hagen offered.

“For now, what is of most concern to him is that you take his consort and sons to Dykaru. Tonight, if at all possible.”

“That is a goodly distance,” said Hagen.

“He does not want them threatened by Ilteron. Where else in Austra could they be more distant?”

“Or safer,” suggested Hagen, “seeing as it serves the center of the ancestral lands of Lord Ghrant.”

“If you agree, they will be arriving shortly.”

“Under the cover of darkness. Are matters that precarious here in Valmurl? Or does he fear that they soon will be?”

“Lord Ghrant does not want a pitched battle over Valmurl. If he wins, it will be a meaningless victory, because it will destroy the city. That is why he is moving south, and why he is making it known to Ilteron that he is.”

“And what if Ilteron takes Valmurl and does not follow Ghrant?” asked Hagen.

The other man laughed, harshly. “If Ilteron cannot dispose of Ghrant quickly, he will lose. He is known to be cruel and unforgiving. He has stated that he is strong and Ghrant is weak. If he cannot best Ghrant soon, that gives the lie to his words. And…he has already killed Lord Bowar in a fit of anger. The longer the fight goes on, the more it favors Ghrant, and even the highland lords know that. Ilteron will have to fight Ghrant in the south. The southern lords will never support Ilteron, and it was for that reason, as well you know, Lord Hagen, that Lord Estloch disinherited…”

Kharl nodded to himself. It did not totally surprise him that Hagen was called “lord.”

“I did not wish to see Austra torn in two, and yet what I did not wish has still come to pass,” Hagen said in a voice so low that Kharl had to strain to hear the words.