Wellspring of Chaos

Carpenter and Mage
LXXI

The voyage back from Vizyn to Valmurl was swifter, but colder and rougher, than the trip north to Vizyn had been, and Kharl was more than glad when the Southshield finally tied up at the pier in the harbor at Valmurl late on a cloudy fourday afternoon.

Herana stood by the railing as Kharl neared the gangway. “You going back to the Seastag?”

Kharl grinned sheepishly. “If Captain Hagen’ll take me back.”

“I’d wager he will.” Herana offered a broad smile, one that carried a trace of laughter in her gray eyes, and took away the lines in her narrow face.

“Let’s hope you’re right.” Kharl returned the smile and, staff in hand and pack on his back, headed down the gangway.

Valmurl didn’t feel all that much warmer than Vizyn. Was winter that cold in all of Austra? Kharl glanced at the warm gloves Taleas had given him, and for which he remained most grateful. He owed Taleas something, both for his honesty and the gloves, but how, and with what, could he repay the scrivener? Taleas had said Kharl had repaid him and would again, but he’d never explained, and Kharl hadn’t asked. A sense of sadness passed through him as he thought of another scrivener. He continued to make his way down the pier toward the harbor way.

“You! With the staff!”

Kharl turned.

Three men in yellow-and-black tunics-uniforms of some sort-stood on the stone causeway at the shoreward end of the pier. The shorter armsman on the right pointed at Kharl. “Best get back on whatever ship you came in on.”

Kharl forced himself to look at the lead armsman directly, but openly, and not with hostility, despite the anger in the man’s voice. The fellow had no hint of chaos, and Kharl did his best to project directness and honesty as he replied. “I’m a carpenter on the Seastag. I went to see friends while the ship was in refit.”

“Who’s the master?”

“Hagen’s the captain, Furwyl’s the first…”

“Get back out to the refit yard then, and, if you know what’s good for you, don’t carry a dark staff like that, not now.”

“Yes, ser. I will, ser, but I was traveling, and a staff helps…” Kharl paused as he realized that there were more of the uniformed armsmen everywhere. “What’s happened? When I left…”

“Lord Estloch was murdered, that’s what.”

“Oh…that’s not good.”

“Worse ’n that. Be on your way.” The words were gruff, but no longer hostile. “And get that staff put aside soon as you can.”

“Yes, ser,” Kharl replied politely, wondering why the guard had backed down so quickly. Then, he was glad the man had.

He made his way northward toward the street he thought led to the refit yards. He’d only been in that part of the harbor once before, seeking out Chalart to see about a position as a cooper. Had it only been little more than an eightday before? It seemed longer. Once he was away from the main part of the harbor, he saw no more guards in uniform, but there were few people out and about, fewer than he would have thought just from the cold weather and the chill wind.

When he reached the refit yard, Kharl stopped short of the single pier and looked northwest. It was easy to pick out the Seastag in the last dry dock. The other two dry docks were empty, as they had been earlier.

He made his way past the single pier and then along the edge of the water until he stood on the stone edge of the drained dry dock. The ship was resting on keel blocks and angled supports, and was also tethered with heavy hemp cables that ran from the masts and bowsprit to bollards twice the size of those in the harbor. Kharl looked down at the mud-smeared stone base of the dry dock, then toward the gangway.

He walked to the gangway, but stopped short as Ghart appeared from a small shed set short of the gangway.

“You didn’t like the country life so well, I see,” observed Ghart.

“They weren’t too interested in having a good cooper, just a cheap one,” Kharl said, knowing he was shading the truth somewhat.

“That’s the way of the world,” Ghart replied. “Captain told me you’d most likely be back. Never took you off the crew list.”

Kharl didn’t know what to say to that.

“He’s done that more ’n once. Did it for me after my first voyage. Been with him ever since. We’re all in the bunkhouse there.” Ghart gestured toward the low stone structure set back from the refit area, and north of the warehouses and Chalart’s cooperage. “Need to take your gear there, then report back here.” He grinned. “Tarkyn said you’d be back. Been saving some work for you. We’re about through for today, but he’ll still want to see you.”

Kharl laughed. “He was hoping I’d be back.”

“That he was.” Ghart’s eyes darted toward the southwest.

Kharl could sense the second’s concern. “What’s going on? I saw armsmen all over the port.”

“Someone murdered Lord Estloch the day before yesterday. Crossbow quarrel from the woods while he was hunting. No one knows who. He’d disinherited his eldest years back. Said Ilteron was cruel, and that cruelty didn’t serve a land well. People have been saying that he-Ilteron, that’s the older one-that he was behind the killing, and that he’s got an army and the support of Guillam. Guillam’s the head of the factors’ council, and most of the factors and crafters leastwise listen to him. Some even say that Ilteron’s marching out of the Shiltons against Lord Ghrant-that’s his younger brother-and the one Estloch had named as his heir.”

“Where’s the captain?”

“He’s in the Great House. He grew up with Lord Estloch, and Lord Ghrant sort of thought of him as an uncle. Sometimes, he’d advise Lord Estloch. That’s what they said.” Ghart looked at the dry dock. “We’re supposed to be out of here by the end of the eightday after this one. Wish it were sooner. Ship in dry dock is like a man with his legs broken.”

“They’ve got guards in uniform-black and yellow-at the piers in the main part of the harbor,” Kharl said.

“Black and yellow-those are Lord Ghrant’s personal guards. The Austran regulars are black and green.”

“You don’t think he trusts the regulars? Lord Ghrant, I mean.”

“Don’t know as I’d trust anyone, were I in his boots,” Ghart replied. “Better get your gear over there in the bunkhouse. Tarkyn said you’d a lot of catching up to do.”

Kharl laughed again as he turned from the gangway and headed toward the bunkhouse.