Ordermaster

LX

The ride on sevenday had proved useful not only to Demyst and Erdyl, but, as Kharl had hoped, to himself as well. Mantar had been happy to show off his knowledge of Brysta, and to point out everything from the Quadrancy Keep-the walled hilltop keep of Lord West and his family and retainers-to the various enclaves below it on the hill, the largest of which was the Hamorian. It had also been recently enlarged. At least, several of the outbuildings and walls looked new, and felt that way to Kharl. He had not sensed a chaos-wizard there, and that had worried him, in some ways, more than if he had, although he could not have said why.

Also, in addition to the new barracks building in the old slateyard, there was another set of barracks and stables on the south side of Brysta, beside the road south to Surien, the same road Kharl had walked to Peachill. Patrollers guarded both.

Kharl had the feeling that they had been followed, but not by wizardry or wizards, and supposed that was to be expected. Only a single additional merchant ship, from Suthya, had ported in the harbor, and the coastal schooner had departed. One of Lord West’s two gunships had also ported, looking old, small, and insignificant compared to the Hamorian warships Kharl had seen on the high seas and in port at Swartheld.

Kharl had requested that Mantar take them down Crafters’ Lane, but while his old cooperage now bore the name of Mallamet, he had not seenthe cooper, nor had he been able to make out the inscription on the adjoining building that had once been Tyrbel’s scriptorium. Gharan’s shutters had been closed-not at all unusual for a crafter on sevenday afternoon-so that Kharl could not tell whether Jeka still worked for the weaver. The drive itself was all he thought prudent for the present, until he had a better idea of how matters stood-but he wished he had been able to see and sense more.

After returning, Kharl had sampled the leather-bound books in the library, going through and opening them, reading sections at random. Several were merely compilations of folktales. One was called History of the Ancients, and Kharl read several pages. One paragraph caught his attention.

All across Candar, there are people, usually women, who talk about the “Legend.” Yet there is no evidence to support this Legend, save for the ruins of Westwind itself, and the ruin of a black tower and a walled keep on the Roof of the World tells nothing of its inhabitants or how they lived … They are no written histories dating from that time, except those reputed to be in the archives in Nylan, and no one not of Reduce has ever been granted access to those, if they even exist …

So far as Kharl could tell, most of the pages before and after that paragraph were written in the same vein-claiming that years of tales passed down meant nothing. They had to mean something. They just couldn’t be dismissed, although what they meant Kharl wasn′t certain.

The other volumes were even drier. One was a manual on tanning, and another dealt with rendering. At that, Kharl recalled Werwal, the renderer, who had been one of the few crafters in Brysta who had not turned against Kharl. Another was a thin volume that offered a guide to bookkeeping. There were several hundred volumes on the shelves, and Kharl did not see a one that he found interesting, or likely to be of immediate use, except perhaps the one that dealt with accounts. But he did not wish to spend more time looking through all of them, one at a time, some were so old he could not even make out the titles on their fronts or their spines.

After his brief perusal of the volumes on the shelves, most of which were stuck to the wood on which they rested, Kharl had begun to study the residence ledgers and accounts in greater detail-much greater detail. Hecontinued that effort on eightday. By late afternoon, he was convinced that Fundal was relatively honest. He also felt that the steward was a timid man at heart, and one fearful of changing providers or asking firmly for a better price.

So he sent Erdyl to bring the steward to the library.

Fundal entered, his eyes downcast.

Young as he was, Erdyl clearly understood, because he slipped away, closing the door behind him.

“Ser? Is there something wrong?”

“You haven′t done anything wrong,” Kharl replied. “I have been studying the accounts.”

“Yes, ser.” Concern and puzzlement warred on Fundal’s face.

“There are some things that trouble me …″

“Ser?”

“You’ve been buying linens from Soret, I see.”

“Yes, Lord Kharl. We’ve always purchased from him.”

“Do we need any more?″

“Not soon.”

Kharl nodded. “The weaver Gharan does better work, I’ve heard. Ask him for a price and get a sample of his work before you see Soret.”

″But … ser … we’ve always …″

“Fundal. I’ve some experience in trade. I’m sure you have heard that. If Gharan does better work or does the same work at less cost, our golds go farther.”

Fundal swallowed.

“Now … about the flour. I’d like you to consider Wassyt, the miller to the north …” Kharl did not explain in detail, either about Wassyt or the other crafters whose names he mentioned in turn, but every name he mentioned was a good and honest provider, the best that Kharl had known. He didn’t actually tell Fundal to change providers, but he did suggest very strongly that the steward learn about each man before purchasing more from the current provider. “ … we’re charged with spending Lord Ghrant’s golds wisely, and I intend that we should. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ser.”

“If you have any ideas that would help, I’d like to hear them.”

“I’d have to think about that, ser.”

Fundal was almost trembling when he left the study.

Kharl followed, using his sight shield, and listened, with his order-boosted senses, as Fundal talked to Khelaya.

“ … practically told me who to buy provender and the like from …”

“That doesn’t sound like any lord I’ve known, but he’s a new lord. Maybe he came from trade.”

“He might have, but how could he know all those names?”

“You said he was an officer on one of Lord Hagen’s ships. They meet everyone. Been on one long enough, he’d know who was good, I’d wager. ‘Sides, I told you myself that Soret was cheating you. Told you to go to Chyrent, too.”

Kharl smiled at the cook’s tone.

“ … weren’t for the golds, almost wish we didn’t have an envoy.” Fundal’s voice carried resignation.

“Like him a lot better than Hensolas. Mean-assed bastard. Barely got Sysena off to her aunt’s before he ruined her, and him havin’ that woman, too. Called her his cousin.” The cook snorted, then laughed.

“I don’t know as I like him. Seems honest, but he looks right through you, like as he could see your heart.”

“Can’t take blooms and fruit from the same tree, Fundal. You didn’t like Hensolas’cause he paid no attention and treated you like dust under his boots. You don’t like this one because he watches you and wants you to do better.”

“Go fix supper.” The rear door to the kitchen closed firmly as the steward left.

Kharl frowned as he eased back to the study. Fundal wasn’t stealing from the residence, but he certainly didn′t want Kharl watching him too closely.

In the kitchen, Khelaya hummed happily as she chopped nuts.