Heritage of Cyador

XXI

Once they reach Shaelt Post, just before they dismount, Lerial turns to Ascaar. “If you have a moment later … there are some details.”

Ascaar nods, although there is a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Half a glass in your quarters? They’re better than mine.”

“That would be fine.”

Lerial meets briefly with Fheldar and his officers, but all is as well as can be expected, and he makes his way to his quarters, thinking about several things. First, there is the question about why not a single person at the dinner mentioned the battles at Luba. Nor did anyone mention the assassination of Valatyr. The second might be because neither Lerial nor Rhamuel mentioned it … but Lerial has to wonder. As for the first, the impact on all the merchanters in Afrit would have been enormous had the Heldyans succeeded in gaining a foothold on the west side of the river … and no one had said anything.

Lerial is still puzzling over the strangeness of what was not mentioned at the dinner when he hears a knock. He checks his shields and renews them, then moves to the door and opens it.

Ascaar stands there holding a pitcher of lager and two beakers. “I thought you might like something to drink. It’s not nearly what the arms-commander can offer, but it’s not bad.”

“It’s very welcome … and I am thirsty.” Lerial closes the door behind Ascaar and walks over to stand by one of the two armchairs.

The subcommander sets the beakers and pitcher on the low table between the chairs, turns one chair so that the chairs almost face, and settles himself. Lerial checks the pitcher and beakers with his order-senses, then fills both beakers two-thirds full, before sitting and gesturing to Ascaar to take a beaker.

The subcommander does, taking a swallow. Then he looks at Lerial. “Details … or what you heard or didn’t hear at the dinner? Or something else.”

“All that.” Lerial drinks some of the lager. “This is better than you said.” He sets the beaker on the low table. “On the ride back from Graemaald’s villa, I finally realized what bothered me about the dinner, something I couldn’t put my finger on at the time.”

Ascaar tilts his head, but doesn’t speak, clearly waiting for Lerial to explain.

“We fought a series of battles only an eightday ago, and if we’d failed all Afrit would be in danger. But no one said a thing. At least, not that I heard. Did you hear anything-besides from the commander, I mean?”

Ascaar offers an amused smile. “I wouldn’t have, except from him. That happened almost two eightdays ago. For a wealthy merchanter to talk about something more than an eightday old would suggest that he was not well informed and could hurt him. They all have fast river schooner-galleys. They need information quickly. I’m certain they’ve all talked about it in private. Some have likely already changed their goods or what they do as a result. But talk about it? Not likely with other merchanters around. I’m sure Graemaald had words in private with the arms-commander.”

Lerial has not even thought of that … but it also explains why there are no large towns or cities in Afrit that are not on the river or very close to it. The river is not only the major source of water for much of what is grown, but it’s also the fastest means of travel, especially downstream.

Ascaar goes on. “I asked the same question years ago. Everyone laughed.” He snorts. “All the undercaptains from merchanter families sneered.”

“Thank you.” Lerial nods. “That answers one question, but not another. No one mentioned Valatyr.”

“They wouldn’t have. Not in a public setting. There’s a different reason for that. If they let it be known they knew…”

“Oh … the only way they could have found out is by revealing that they have an informant in the Afritan Guard on their payroll.”

“Exactly. And commenting on the death of even a high-ranking subcommander isn’t worth possibly compromising an informant whose information would be worth golds…”

“Rather than momentary prestige,” finishes Lerial.

“You picked that up quickly.”

“I hope I’m not too slow. I just hadn’t thought of it that way.” Lerial pauses, then goes on. “I assume you mentioned Valatyr’s death to Commander Vonacht. I’d be most interested in hearing what he might have said.”

“You didn’t mention it to anyone?”

“I thought it would be taken badly, except to Vonacht. Was I wrong?” asks Lerial.

Ascaar shakes his head. “Especially the way it happened.” He pauses. “It did happen that way, didn’t it?”

“Except for one thing. I had men posted to watch for anyone leaving at odd times.”

Ascaar offers a sardonic grin. “For a young overcaptain and a junior heir who looks so honest, you don’t trust people much.”

“I trust based on the way I see people. That’s why I trust you.” Lerial can only hope he is seeing Ascaar correctly.

“Vonacht wasn’t surprised. Valatyr has a good idea which merchanters provide better supplies at a more reasonable cost, and Subcommander Klassyn has been listening to Valatyr.”

“That’s enough to risk losing a chaos-handling assassin?” Lerial has strong doubts about that, cutthroat as the merchanters of Afrit appear to be.

“No.” Ascaar grins sardonically. “It’s a good cover for whatever the real reason might be. That’s why Vonacht has heard it, and another reason why none of them talked about it.”

“Why do you think he was killed, really?”

“What I said earlier. It’s clear the arms-commander relied on Valatyr. Commander Sammyl’s loyalties are to the duke and those who support the duke. Klassyn knows supplies and logistics. He never was much good at tactics and strategy.”

“He knows supplies … or he knows the suppliers?” asks Lerial warily.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know … not for certain … but you can’t know anything about supplies without knowing the suppliers.”

“Which gives two possible reasons for Valatyr’s death, and neither is likely to be the right one.”

“That’s the way I’d see it.”

Lerial takes a deep swallow of the lager. It’s more bitter than he’d thought. Or maybe other things make it taste that way. “What did you think of Valatyr?”

“When he was a battalion commander, he was firm and direct. Let you know where you stood and what he thought. He changed some of the river patrol schedules.” Ascaar grins again. “Didn’t catch that many more Heldyan raiders, but he did catch a few flatboats that never paid tariffs anywhere.”

“Is anything in Afrit simple?”

“That’s another reason why I stayed in the Guard. Two or three merchanters asked if I’d be interested in shaping up their private forces.”

“Do they all have private companies of guards?”

Ascaar shakes his head. “Only the biggest. Aenian House, Fhastal, Maesoryk, maybe Jhosef. And especially Mesphaes … he has to. Everyone would steal spirits if they weren’t guarded.”

By the time they finish the lager and Ascaar leaves, Lerial has a headache … and not from the lager.