Wellspring of Chaos

LXVI

When the Seastag had cast off from the pier at Swartheld, starting the voyage back to her home port of Valmurl, one of the crew, as Ghart had predicted, had failed to return-the fresh-faced young Wylat. Thinking of Wylat toiling on the Great Highway or the fiery furnaces of Luba, Kharl had shaken his head. He could but hope the Fleuryl never ported in Swartheld, because he had his doubts about Arthal’s wisdom. But there was nothing he could do about either young man’s fate.

The ship had traveled no more than a handful of kays northeast beyond sight of land when the seas began to turn rough, and bitter chill permeated the winds that had raised the waves and buffeted the Seastag. The remainder of the eightday journey was rough, although the seas had subsided somewhat as the Seastag neared Austra, and Kharl had found himself more and more fretful once the coastline appeared.

The winter sun hung low in the west, offering little warmth, as the Seastag steamed through the gray harbor waters toward the outermost pier of Valmurl harbor. Kharl was glad for his heavy jacket as he stood by the railing and looked at Valmurl. Unlike Brysta, which faced west on the Eastern Ocean, Valmurl faced east-and the Great Western Ocean. Valmurl was also an older port city, but set on a flat plain on the delta of the River Val. The bay on which the city was located was more open, and had no fortifications like the twin harbor forts of Brysta. While there were hills to the north, they looked to be low and some distance way-and were covered entirely with a whiteness that could only be snow.

Farther back from the waterfront, Kharl could see taller structures, even stone towers. Thin lines of smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys into the cold air, and a smoky haze hung over the city. The smoke and near-twilight shadows mixed together and imparted a gray cast to Valmurl, despite the late-afternoon sunlight that glinted on the gray waters between the ship and the city.

Furwyl eased up beside Kharl. “You still intending to leave us here?”

“I’d planned to,” Kharl replied. “Hoped to find a place as a cooper somewhere in Austra.”

“You’re a fine carpenter, and a good man to have around in a tight place. Hate to see you spend the rest of your life making barrels for someone else. Hard thing to make your way in a land not your own,” the first mate pointed out. “You’re already a subofficer on your first voyage. Not many do that.”

Kharl knew Furwyl was right, yet he hesitated. “Making my way here couldn’t be that much harder than where I came from.” Even as Kharl spoke, he wondered. He’d still have been a cooper, with a consort and sons, if he’d not been so unlucky to have heard Egen in the back alley. Or would he? The druids had suggested that his situation would have worsened anyway. Did that mean matters could be worse in Valmurl? Or Vizyn, if he got there? “Leastwise, I hope not.”

Furwyl chuckled. “We’re goin’ in to refit. Be in the yards two, maybe three eightdays. You don’t find what you want, get back here afore we leave-bet the captain’d take you back as carpenter second. Not the billet he’ll fill except with someone he knows, and he knows all the ship’s carpenters in Austra. Leastwise, he’d put you on one of his other ships.”

“How many does he have?”

“Ten. At least, that was the last number I heard. All something with ‘sea’ in ’em…Seahound, Seafox…”

“And he still sails?” Rhylla had mentioned once that Hagen had other ships, but Kharl had not realized just how many.

“He’s a man who likes what he does,” Furwyl said. “And he likes to keep good people. Especially carpenters.”

“Are good ones that hard to come by?”

“Harder than you’d think. You get youngsters barely more than apprentices…know a few things and think they know more, and mostly you get older men who love their ale so much that the only time they’re sober is at sea.”

“Where are the good ones?” asked Kharl.

“That’d be a secret.” Furwyl grinned, then added, “With the shipwrights, but they don’t take many, and you got to be family…or close to it, or be owed more than most would owe.”

That made sense. Still…

“Thank you,” Kharl finally said. “And thank the captain. But I think I need to look and see if anyone needs a good cooper.”

“You can tell him yourself in the morning when he pays off the crew. Just thought I’d put in a word with you.” Furwyl nodded and turned.

Was Kharl making a mistake? Another mistake?

Kharl didn’t think so, but then, he hadn’t thought so before.