Ordermaster

LXVIII

Kharl woke on fiveday to a gray drizzle outside his open windows. The air was so warm that he was covered in sweat, even though he had thrown off the light sheet sometime in the night. He struggled to his feet and to the bath chamber. There, after shaving, he splashed his face with cool water, knowing that the relief would be momentary and the afternoon would be even steamier.

Had Enelya stayed or sneaked off? He’d already decided that he would not pursue her if she had. One chance was enough. Still … he wondered what she really felt.

After dressing, but not with either waistcoat or jacket, he slipped down the back stairs to the kitchen, using his sight shield to conceal himself. There, in the rear washroom, off the kitchen, Enelya was scrubbing something, actually humming to herself. She wore a faded maroon shirt and gray trousers. Her dark hair was tied back.

Khelaya moved to the door, less than a rod from where Kharl observed through his order-senses. For a moment, she stood watching the younger woman, unaware of the concealed mage. Then she cleared her throat. “How’s that coming?”

“Need more pumice, but it’ll be clean. Hasn’t been in a while, looks like.”

“Way it ought to be, but never have enough people here to do things right.” Khelaya snorted. “You stay here, and you’ll be a big help. Don’t really have enough retainers here for a proper envoy’s residence. Lucky we are that Lord Kharl’s a practical sort.”

“Lord Kharl … that was Lord Kharl that found me?”

“Large as life.”

“He’s really the envoy from Austra?”

“Don’t know of none other. Good enough sort, but don′t mess with him. Set Fundal right about who had the best goods. I’d been telling Fundal that for years. Never listened to me. Lord Kharl had him straightened out in less’n day.”

“What kind of lord is he?”

“Can’t rightly say. He’s Lord Kharl of Cantyl, and he did a lot for Lord Ghrant when some of the lords rebelled. He’s some sort of advocate or something, too. Say he was an officer on a trading ship when he was younger.”

“I wonder …″

“What’s that?”

“He knew about me. He said that he was paying back a favor because I’d been good to someone else. But … he knew where I was.”

“He just showed up where you were hiding?” asked Khelaya.

“Like he knew all about it.”

“Someone musta told him. Do you know who?”

“I’m not sure … there was an old man, a beggar … he was with a girl I grew up with in Sagana … I was hiding where she’d been. She got a better place here in Brysta. Never said how … Told me not to say where. Haven’t. Won’t.”

“I’m not askin’,” Khelaya said with a laugh.

Behind his sight shield, Kharl winced. Old man? Maybe he’d just looked that way when he’d been hiding from Egen while he had been waiting for the Seastag to return to Brysta.

“Tellin’ you like it is.”

“Just count yourself fortunate.” Khelaya sniffed. “Sun doesn’t always shine down the alleys.” After a moment, she added, “There’s more pumice in the storeroom. You can get it.”

Enelya rose from beside the scrubbing tub. “I’ll be right back.”

Kharl slipped away and up the rear stairs before releasing the sight shield. Then he made his way down the main staircase and to the breakfast room. Old man?

He had barely seated himself before both Fundal and Khelaya entered the breakfast nook, almost behind Kharl.

“Lord Kharl, ser?” began the steward.

“Yes?”

“About Enelya, ser?” asked Fundal. “You never said …”

Kharl studied the two. Fundal shifted his weight from boot to boot. Khelaya wore a faint smile above the batter-stained apron.

“How much to pay her?” Kharl frowned. “Isn’t there a standard wage for servers? Or wasn’t there?”

“Last one we had was Chovara,” Khelaya said. “She got a silver an eightday. That was two seasons back, though.”

Kharl reflected. Khelaya received three silvers an eightday, as well as a large room in the rear quarters. “She’s getting a room and food.”

“Better than she had,” said Fundal.

“She needs better clothes,” added Khelaya, “if you want her to serve at functions.”

“What do you two think?” Kharl nodded at Fundal.

“Silver an eightday.”

“Silver and three,” suggested Khelaya.

“How about a silver and two?” Kharl said. “But she gets three silvers for better clothes. Just this one time.”

The two exchanged glances. Then both nodded.

“Why don’t you both tell her?” Kharl paused, then added, “I checked the ledgers. You’ve both been paid the same amount for over two years. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Starting this eightday, you each get more. A silver an eightday more. Each. For now.” Both smiled.

“And you can promise Enelya that she can look forward to more if you are both satisfied with her work.”

“Yes, ser.”

After Fundal had left, Kharl reminded himself that he also needed to raise Mantar’s wages, but less than those of Khelaya and Fundal. From what he could see, Fundal and Khelaya were doing most of the work, although the steward did the dirty cleaning when he thought Kharl would not be needing him, something Kharl had become first aware of when he and Demyst had inspected the empty barracks spaces. He didn’t knowabout the gardener. He’d have to talk that over with Fundal and perhaps Mantar.

Khelaya returned with a platter of fresh egg toast and ham slices, and a small pitcher of redberry syrup. “Here you are, ser.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “Do you think she’ll work out?”

“I’d say so, ser, but the proof’s in the pie.”

Kharl laughed softly. Wasn’t that always so?

After breakfast, he ushered Erdyl into the study, closing the door behind him.

The secretary waited, a faintly quizzical look on his unlined face.

“Erdyl … I have another task for you.”

“Ser?”

“The renderer’s place we passed last night … there’s a tannery just above it.”

Erdyl’s quizzical smile faded.

“My neighbor raises cattle and sheep. I’d like to know what the rates are for hides here. See if you can get an idea from the tanner.”

“Ser?”

“You have cattle at Norbruel, don’t you?”

“Well … yes, ser.”

“Then use that, too. Complain that I don′t know anything, if you have to, but see what you can find out, about how their prices are, about what they see in the city, but get them to talk about anything, the more the better. And see if he’ll tell you anything about why the renderer’s place is boarded up. I’ve never heard of anyone shutting down a renderer. Brysta doesn′t feel right, but …″ Kharl did not want to explain.”Keep your eyes open, for just about anything. Oh … take Alynar or Cevor, but leave them outside and out of sight when you talk to the tanner. The tanner’s name-I had it here somewhere …″ Kharl walked to the desk where he shuffled through the small stack of papers, before looking up. He hadn’t looked, but didn’t want Erdyl to know that. “Drenzel, that’s it.”

“You want me to do that now?”

“The sooner the better. I’m going over to the Hall of Justice for a while. I’d have you come with me, but it would be better if you and Alynar or Cevor rode.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl could sense that Erdyl was puzzled, but Kharl didn’t want totell him much, not until he’d talked to Drenzel and reported back to Kharl.

Kharl had to wait half a glass before Mantar had the carriage ready, because he’d forgotten to tell anyone.

After a glass or so that morning in the Hall of Justice library, Kharl slipped back downstairs into the Hall, to hear several trials held by Lurtedd, the other lord justicer, who, as he recalled, was supposed to be more closely tied to Overcaptain Osten. After two very long glasses in the hot Hall, when the second trial was completed, and one Astolan had been convicted of disturbing the peace-and sentenced to a season in the quarries-Kharl had come to two conclusions.

There was little difference between the two lord justicers, and he was not about to find out any more than he already knew from studying what went on in the Hall of Justice.

He left the Hall, and he and Demyst made their way outside, finding a shady spot to wait for Mantar.

“They do it much different here, ser?” asked the undercaptain.

“The procedures are almost the same. I think the sentences are harder.” Kharl really didn’t wish to say more, not where anyone could hear.

Despite the shade, the day was hot, and Kharl was perspiring profusely by the time Mantar returned with the carriage less than a half glass later.

“We’ll take another ride through Brysta, starting at the harbor and working up through all the cross streets,” Kharl told the driver.

“Be a long trip to go a short ways, ser.”

“That it will be, but we need to see some things.” Kharl opened the door and stepped into the carriage, making sure the windows were open.

As they rode, Kharl counted Watch patrollers. In addition to the harbor inspectors, there were four patrollers at the foot of the piers, although there was only one non-Hamorian ship, and that had to be from Recluce, flying as it was an ensign of the black ryall on a white background. There were four patrollers at the lower market square, and two were mounted, the first time Kharl had seen that-ever. The two around the upper square were also mounted, and there seemed to be a pair on foot at practically every other corner of a cross street and road. By the time they returned to the residence, Kharl had counted over a hundred patrollers in an area that amounted to less than a quarter of Brysta proper.

Erdyl was waiting when Kharl returned and entered the library, followed by Demyst. The young secretary stood immediately. “Ser.”

“What did you find out?” Kharl blotted his forehead once more.

“The tanner wouldn’t say much, except that it all depends. Good bull leather, that will take splits, a good hide might fetch almost a gold. Sheep fleeces are cheap, three coppers, maybe a silver.”

“Did he say anything about the Hamorians or Lord South?”

“Said that with the trouble in the south, lots of herders were selling off part of their flocks, those they couldn’t keep under roof at night, and that was driving down prices. Might be why wool prices were going up, too. He claimed he didn’t know anything about the Hamorians, and Lord South, except that Lord South was a doddering old fool.”

“What about the renderer?”

“His place has been closed for an eightday, or thereabouts. The tanner said he was in gaol. Something about tariff farmers. He didn’t let one in, and in the night the patrollers came and smashed up things.” Erdyl shrugged. “That’s what he said. I couldn’t believe that he said the patrollers did that.”

“The tanners and the renderers usually will say more than other crafters,” Kharl said.

“No one else wants to do what they do,” suggested Demyst.

Kharl turned and walked to the desk. Should he? If he didn’t … He looked at Erdyl. “I’m sorry to have you riding all over Brysta, but I have another errand for you, after we eat. You’ll need to go to the Hall of Justice, and see if you can find out what will come before each justicer in the next eightday, or the next two. If Fasyn or the clerks ask, tell them that I’m interested in listening to certain cases, but that, as an envoy, my time is limited. So I wanted to pick those of most interest to me.”

“Ser … will they tell me?”

“They might.” Kharl forced a grin. “They’re supposed to post the dockets, but I’ve never found out where. You could say that, if you need to. Take some paper and a markstick. You’ll probably have to copy them, or take them down.”

“Ser …?”

“A listing of those cases could prove very useful.” One way or another, Kharl thought. “It’s too bad they haven′t kept the case files up to date. It doesn’t help that the newest records are more than four years old.”

“Do you think that’s because the lord justicers don’t want anyone seeing the records of the way they decided things?” asked Erdyl.

“The records only matter if the law means something,” Kharl replied, “and if there’s a way to make sure that the justicers follow the law. If the justicers are twisting the law to do what Lord West wants, they won’t want recent records. Not accurate ones, anyway.”

“You think they’re doing that?”

Kharl nodded, a wry smile on his lips. “We can’t do much about that. Now … let’s get something to eat.”