Wellspring of Chaos

LXXXI

On the second day of the voyage, and less than a glass after sunset, Kharl was standing his second passageway watch of the voyage south to Dykaru. The seas were almost calm, and Hagen was on deck. In fact, all the mates were somewhere topside.

The Lady Hyrietta and her sons were in the cabin. The nurse had left the cabin a short while before, and from the silence, Kharl gathered that she and Lady Hyrietta had put the boys to bed and that the lady was reading or resting herself, while the nurse was on deck for a breath of night air.

After three glasses in the passageway, Kharl was due to be relieved in about a glass, and he was ready for that. Standing duty in the narrow passageway left him feeling restless and confined. Inadvertently, his thoughts skittered back to his imprisonment in the Hall of Justice in Brysta. Hall of injustice, he thought, wondering if better justicers would have helped, or if they would have been run out or dismissed by Egen or Lord West.

His lips curled into an ironic smile. People didn’t really want justice, not unless they were desperate. Even he hadn’t wanted justice so much as freedom. His thoughts were interrupted by a dull thump outside, from the main deck.

Kharl stiffened, easing off the stool and grabbing the cudgel, then turning as the hatch opened. He could sense someone outside-lifting something-a crossbow. That left Kharl as a target more vulnerable than a grounded goose, outlined by the lamp on the bulkhead. He did the only thing he could think that would help, using his Talent to bind the very air into a shield, hoping that he was in time, and that he could hold the shield long enough.

Clank! Thunk! The crossbow quarrel dropped to the deck, bent.

The armsman in black and yellow charged toward Kharl, his sabre extended and clearly expecting a wounded, if not a dead or dying, guard.

Kharl raised the cudgel slightly, but stayed behind the hardened air.

The armsman thrust, his blade striking the invisible shield. The sabre blade shattered, metal scattering across the deck and bouncing from the lower parts of the bulkheads.

At the momentary look of astonishment on the armsman’s face, Kharl released the minute order-chaos hooks holding the air solid, and struck at the man, the cudgel slamming into the attacker’s lower ribs.

“Oooof…” The armsman dropped the useless sabre hilt, trying to dance back and draw a long knife, but his steps were wobbly.

Kharl’s were not, nor was his aim off. His second blow was to the man’s knife arm, and something cracked. His third shattered a kneecap, and the man toppled, slowly, sprawling onto the deck. The armsman did not make a sound, but lay on the deck, writhing.

Kharl stepped forward, his cudgel ready.

The attacker’s good hand went to his belt, and then to his mouth. He swallowed something.

Kharl grabbed for the man’s arm, but with a second swallow, the armsman convulsed. Kharl began to ring the bell that Hagen had attached to the bulkhead.

“What-” Lady Hyrietta’s head peered from the captain’s door.

“Lady! Stay there and bolt the door!”

Hyrietta did not argue, and Kharl heard the bolt slam home.

Within moments, Ghart and Hagen burst through the hatchway from the main deck.

In the dim light from the small lantern, Hagen looked down at the still-convulsing armsman.

“I tried to stop him without killing him, ser,” Kharl said. “But he took poison before I could get to him.”

“Poison?” Hagen looked to Ghart, then back at the fallen armsman, who gave a last shudder before slumping into silence.

“He put something in his mouth.”

“He did something to the outside guards,” Hagen said, his eyes darting from side to side, checking the passageway. “Could have offered them something to drink-water, wine. Both are dead. Poisoned, I’d say.”

“But…he’d been with Ghrant for years…that’s what they said.”

“Treachery…that has always been Ilteron’s way…” Hagen turned to Ghart. “Go find the undercaptain and tell him what happened. Then take care of this one. Don’t let anyone inside here. The undercaptain can look from the hatchway if he insists.”

“Yes, ser.”

Ghart made his way back onto the deck, closing the hatch behind him, leaving Hagen with Kharl in the passageway.

Hagen looked at Kharl. “He picked you.”

“I suppose he did.”

The captain laughed, mirthlessly. “Bad choice.”

“You knew they would,” Kharl said.

“I thought, if there were any treachery, that they would. I’d hoped that his personal guard would have been above subversion. I wasn’t about to wager the lady and the heirs on that hope, though.”

Ghart reappeared. “Undercaptain’s on his way.”

“I’ll talk to the lady.” Hagen turned and walked to the door to his cabin, where he knocked. “Lady Hyrietta? Hagen here.”

After a moment, the door opened a crack, then more.

“I need to come in for a moment.” The cabin door closed behind the captain, and Kharl could hear the sound of voices, but not the words.

Ghart looked at the body of the dead armsman, then at the deck near Kharl’s boots. He bent down and picked up the crossbow quarrel, its tip bent back.

“He must have hit something,” Kharl said. “He shot, then charged me.”

Ghart studied the deck again, this time picking up the shattered sections of the sabre. “I suppose he missed with this, too?”

Kharl shrugged. “He tried to get me. I used the cudgel. Maybe he wasn’t used to fighting in a narrow space.”

Ghart laughed, humorlessly. “We’ll leave it at that, but I think I’ll just make sure all this goes overboard. It’s probably better that way.”

“No one would believe I was that lucky,” Kharl said.

“You’re right about that,” Ghart replied as he turned with the bent quarrel and broken sabre fragments.

Before long, Kharl could hear voices outside the hatchway.

“Poisoned…bastard poisoned his own mates…You want me to believe that?”

“I daresay that Lord Hagen doesn’t much care what you believe, undercaptain. He knows what happened, and he knew it was likely…”

The undercaptain was furious. Kharl could feel the anger.

“You see why the captain wanted two sets of guards?” asked Ghart, his voice calm.

“…and your man killed him so we can’t find out…”

“No…Kharl disabled him, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop him from taking poison.”

“You want me to believe that…”

“One moment.”

Ghart reappeared in the passageway. He shook his head as he bent and grasped the dead armsman’s tunic and dragged the limp form out of the passageway, mostly closing the hatch behind him.

“…face is blue…”

“…poison does that…better believe it.”

Kharl waited, wondering if there would be another attempt to get to the lady and her sons. Yes, he decided. The question was merely whether the attempt would occur on the Seastag or elsewhere.

While he could hope that the attempts occurred where Hagen might prevent them, he had his doubts. Whenever there might be another attempt, it would be with greater stealth or greater force-or both. He didn’t doubt his own courage…but he did worry about knowing enough to deal with something that was less obvious.