“I’m being sent as a clerk to Swartheld. I think I’m supposed to help the purser, though.”
“There was something about that. No problem. Captain’s up on the bridge deck.” Gresyrd turned. “Borlye! Watch the hoist and the quarterdeck for a bit.”
“Yes, Boats,” replied a lanky but muscular woman.
Gresyrd gestured to the narrow steps to his right. “Up this ladder.” He clambered up, expecting Rahl to follow.
Rahl did,
Captain Liedra stood on the forward edge of the bridge deck, beside the pilothouse, watching the crane that lowered pallets in a cargo net into the forward hold.
“Captain?” asked the Boatswain’s Mate. “You’ve got a clerk here.”
The captain turned. She was a wiry yet muscular woman, who wore a short-waisted green coat with black braid on the cuffs over a plain gray shirt. Her jet-black hair was shot with streaks of brilliant white, both set off by a tanned and slightly weathered angular face. Her eyes were a piercing green. “I’m expecting him. I’ll-take it from here.”
“Yes, ser.” Gresyrd nodded, then turned and hurried back down the ladder.
Liedra studied Rahl for a moment before speaking, her eyes taking in the canvas pack. “So you’re the one headed to Swartheld. Almost too much of a pretty boy. You handle arms?” Her eyes dropped to the truncheon at his belt.
“Yes, Captain. I’m better with a truncheon or a staff, but I know something about a blade. I’d rather not use one, though.”
“You’re one of those blacks who might be a mage, then?”
“So I’ve been told. I’ve also been told that I have a great deal to learn.”
“Don’t we all?” Liedra laughed, a quiet sound that bore amusement. “Might as well get started. You’ll be acting as the purser’s assistant on this leg. You know something about the forms and procedures?”
“Something. I’ve been working in the Merchants’ Association for the past eightday or so, and I was trained as a scrivener.” Rahl added quickly, “Ser Varselt asked me to convey his best to you, ser.”
“He would.” She shook her head. “A scrivener. Ought to be able to read your writing, then. That’s an advantage. You know anything about ships?”
“Nothing, ser. This is the first one I’ve been on.”
“Been aboard,” Liedra corrected him. “You’ll learn. The Diev was built to carry cargo on the Nylan-Hamor run, but we also have four passenger cabins and a steward, and most inns we’re full up. There’s a spare bunk in the steward’s space. That’ll be yours. We’ll drop your gear there.” She walked swiftly to the ladder on the side away from the pier, swung herself around one-handed, and was on the main deck before Rahl actually had his hand on the ladder rail.
“Lively now!”
“Rahl scrambled down after her, following her through a hatch and down a narrow passageway.
“Mates’ cabins here. Crew forward in the focs. Steward’s cubby’s the last.” She held open a narrow door.
There was less than two cubits clearance between the bulkhead and the bottom bunk. The top bunk was a half cubit narrower than the one on the bottom. Above the foot of the upper bunk was a narrow shelf with netting running from it to the overhead.
Liedra pointed to the netted area. “That’s where your gear should go. Just leave the pack on the upper bunk for now. Make sure it’s stowed before” we leave port.“
Rahl eased past her and swung the pack onto the bunk, then followed the captain back down the passage and out into the bright summer sun that made the ship every bit as hot as the pier and far warmer than the training center had been up on the breeze-swept hillside.
A short and blocky man sat on a stool just aft of the open cargo hatch. “The last net! How many kegs of Feyn indigo?”
“Fifteen, ser.”
“… makes sixty altogether…
Liedra waited until the man had jotted something down on the paper fastened to an oblong of polished wood, a portable writing surface. “Purser?”
“Captain… we’re going to be short on the dyes from what they promised…
“We can sell what we have.” She gestured. “Rahl, this is Galsyn. He’s the purser. Galsyn, this is Rahl. He-‘s being sent to Swartheld as a clerk there for the Merchant Association, but he’s your assistant for this leg.” Liedra smiled. “He can make clean copies of your forms and do whatever else you need along those lines. Teach him what you can. The more the clerks know, the easier it is for us.” She offered a brisk nod, turned, and headed back across the deck to the ladder.
“Rahl, is it?”
“Yes, ser.”
“If I call out things, can you write them down?”
“Yes, ser. There might be some special words I can’t spell right.”
“For on-loading that doesn’t matter so long as it’s close, and you’ll learn them when we do the final manifest.” Galsyn stood and pointed to the stool. “Sit.”
Rahl sat.
Galsyn handed him the writing board and the marker. “Just list what I call out underneath the last entry. When you run out of space, start a new sheet.” He turned and gestured. “Let’s get that net moving!”
Rahl watched as the crane swung another load from the wagon on the pier toward the open cargo hold. Galsyn stepped forward slightly, his eyes traveling from the net to the hold and back to the net “Easy now… those are amphorae.”
Rahl waited to write down whatever the purser said. He just hoped he understood it all.
XXXIV
From the moment Rahl took over the marker and writing board on oneday, he jotted down, in the best hand he could, not only the cargo in the nets and pallets, as Galsyn called the items out, but what seemed to be even more in the way of notes. With a short break for the midday meal, they worked until sunset. Then, after supper, Galsyn went over what Rahl had written and spelled out the corrections and terms.
Twoday was more of the same, until midafternoon, when all the outbound cargo had been loaded, the last of the wagons had left the pier, and the crew was battening down the hatches.
Smoke began to rise from the twin stacks just aft of the pilothouse, and the acrid odor of burning coal drifted across the ship.
Rahl watched as Gresyfd’s deck crew took in the gangway and, swung that section of the wooden railing back into place.
“Single up!” came the order from the bridge.
Before long, the midships paddle wheels began to turn, with a dull, slapping thwup, thwup.
Rahl stood at the railing, just aft of the bowsprit, as the Diev backed down and away from, the pier, out into the harbor. Then the paddle wheels stopped for a moment, and a dull thump shivered through the ship before the paddle wheels resumed turning, this time in the opposite direction, now carrying the ship forward and westward toward the channel between the outer breakwaters.
Rahl turned, first to the westernmost piers, but they were empty, and there was no order-haze across them- Did the black ships spend most of their time at sea?
He looked back at the buildings of the harbor, and the black-stone dwellings with their dark slate roofs, rising gradually up the hill, interspersed with trees and greenery.
“Rahl!” called the purser.
Rahl turned slightly to see Galsyn gesturing.
“Now that everything’s on board and stowed, we need to get to work on the manifest for this leg. We can use the long table in the mess. That’s the one the passengers usually eat at.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl glanced back once more at the black-stone piers and the black-slate-roofed buildings on the hillside above the harbor structures. He thought he could seethe training center, but he wasn’t certain. He wondered if he would ever see Nylan or Reduce again, or if Deybri had been right.
He also had to ask himself if he would ever see his parents.
“Rahl!”
“Yes, ser.” He walked toward Galsyn.
Swartheld
XXXV
The paddle wheels were silent
, and the boilers were cold as the Diev flew southwest under full sail. Even at noon in late summer, the spray off the bow was chill at those times when the ship nosed through the heavier swells.
Rahl stood by the railing just aft of the bowsprit, watching a seabird circle up, then dive for a meal. In a bit, once the steward cleaned the ship’s mess, he’d have to meet Galsyn there to continue working on the cargo declaration for what was to be off-loaded at Swartheld. He would have preferred to spar with Mienfryd, the ship’s champion, dour, as the man usually was. Rahl found that he could hold his own with the truncheon and not get too badly bruised with the practice wands—so long as he concentrated on defense. But it would have been far more painful if the wands had not been wooden.
He half turned, glancing aft. Farther to the northwest was a low line of dark clouds. They looked to be larger and nearer than they had been at midmorning, but he’d already learned that estimating distances at sea wasn’t all that easy.
His eyes came to rest on the silent paddle-wheel assemblies. At that moment, he recalled Khalyt’s comments about engine design and about screws. If screw propulsion were faster, why didn’t the trading ships use it instead of paddle wheels? Although Khalyt had never said so directly, Rahl also had the feeling that the hulls of the Reduce warships were black iron. But Rahl had never seen any trading ships in Nylan that were metal-hulled.
Was building a ship of metal too expensive? Or was there another reason?
One of the passengers, a darker-skinned man who was a Hamorian factor of some sort, made his way along the railing toward Rahl.
“Good afternoon,” Rahl offered in Hamorian. “How are you faring?” He’d wanted to ask how he liked the voyage, but those words escaped him.
The merchant looked up. “You speak Hamorian?”
“I’m still learning. You are a trader?”
“Yes, a factor in cloth and in wool. The black wool of Reduce is much desired in Hamor. I came to pick out that which is most suitable.”
Rahl nodded. “Wool is warm, but is not Hamor too warm for wool garments?”
The factor laughed, a sound with vast amusement. “For tapestries and rugs. Because it does not have to be dyed, it lasts far longer. I also travel to the west of Austra, where there is an orange wool. It is even harder to find, and it is not as durable, but the weaving masters wish it and pay well.”
Rahl knew that the Diev carried raw wool that would be sold in Swartheld by the Nylan Merchant Association. So why would the Hamorian spend coins and time to buy wool himself when he could get it without traveling? Did the Association increase the price that much?
“You are Rahl. You are an assistant to the purser, I heard. I am Alamyrt.” The trader inclined his head politely and smiled, showing tannish teeth.
“For the voyage,” Rahl admitted. “I’m being sent as a clerk to the Nylan Merchant Association in Swartheld.”
“Ah… they wish someone who can speak Hamorian.” He laughed. “Still, language alone will not help. They should bargain more. We love to bargain.” Alamyrt paused. “Do you come from a trading family?”
“You write Hamorian, too?”
“As I speak it. Not as well as I would like.”
The trader shook his head. “You will not remain with the merchants. You will learn too much. If you choose to leave, go see my brother. He is Calamyr of Doramyl and Sons.”
“Doramyl was your father?”
Alamyrf laughed again, almost delightedly. “Alas, no. He was my great-great-grandsire. We are an old trading family.”
Over Alamyrt’s shoulder, Rahl caught sight of Galsyn, standing in the hatchway of the passage that led to and from the mess and galley. In one hand he held a large leather case and gestured with the other.
“Ser… you must excuse me. The purser needs me.”
“You are excused, young Rahl. Perhaps we can talk later.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl could sense a rueful amusement in the trader, almost verging on… something he couldn’t define. Still, he inclined his head politely before turning and heading across the deck toward the. purser.
“What did his mightiness the cloth factor have to say?” asked Galsyn.
“He just said that he was interested in black wool from Reduce and orange wool from Austra, and that the Merchant Association needed to bargain more.”
“Ha! He’d like that. He’d bargain you out of your skin and make you think he’d done you a favor.” The purser snorted. “Anyway, we’ve got a lot to do on the declaration, and I’d rather do it now while we’ve got good weather. Can’t check everything in heavy weather, end up with papers everywhere, and without the declarations being complete, the-captain won’t want to off-load in .Hamor.”
Rahl frowned. “But doesn’t all the cargo go to the Merchant Association there first?” .
“Aye, it does.” Galsyn cleared his throat. “But we have to give the declaration to the Imperial tariff enumerators before we can off-load. Then they check the declaration against everything that hits the pier. Anything that doesn’t match doesn’t get off-loaded, and that means a separate declaration for the stuff we miss—and the fees for another wagon and teamsters, and those costs the captain has to eat out of her share. She doesn’t like that.” Rahl could understand that.
Galsyn turned and made his way down the short passage to the crew and passenger mess, with Rahl behind him. Once in the mess, the purser extracted two stacks of papers from the leather case and set them on the long table.
“I was thinking, ser,” offered Rahl before Galsyn said anything. He’d wanted to ask before, but not when anyone else was around. He hated revealing, what he didn’t know. “Outside of the manifests and cargo lists, I don’t know much about trading, but it seemed like the Nordlan ships I saw in the harbor at Nylan were narrower, and they looked faster.”
Galsyn shook his head. “Trading’s not about speed, young fellow. It’s about coins. A faster ship, if she’s under sail, carries less. If she’s under steam, or steam and sail, she burns more coal, and coal is far more costly than the wind, and the coal takes space that cargo could occupy. And factors and traders, for most goods, they don’t pay more for getting ‘em quicker. Rather have ’em later and cheaper.”
“You’re saying that we shouldn’t use steam at all?”
The purser laughed. “Not like that at all. There are times when there’s no wind, and there are harbors where it might take days for the wind to be right to make port. A good master like Captain Liedra knows when to use the engines and when not to.”-
“And to escape pirates?”
“Most of em. The Jeranyi have fast iron-hulled vessels. They carry barrels of cammabark. After they loot a ship, they fill it with cammabark, then fire it. The stuff explodes and burns right down to the waterline. Doesn’t leave any trace of this ship—or the crew.“
Rahl winced. And Fahla’s father had been involved with them? “But why do we have wooden hulls, then?”
“Better for the cargo, and we’re merchanters. Warships, .that’s another question. I’ve had it explained to me, and I can’t say as I understand, but it’s about order and metal, and too much metal in a cargo ship tends to be bad for the cargo over time. At least, that’s the. way I heard it. Warships, they don’t have to worry about cargo. Anyway, it’s not something I can do anything about.” Galsyn handed several sheets of declarations to Rahl. “Sit down across from me. I’ll read off something, and I want you to check the declaration and tell me if. it’s listed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It won’t necessarily be in the order on the declaration. So you might have to go through it all to find it. Don’t rush. Just make sure it’s there.” Galsyn adjusted the form in front of him. ‘Twenty kegs of scarletine…“
“Yes, ser. Twenty kegs.”
“Fifteen kegs of madder…”
“Fifteen kegs, ser.”
“Sixty-two kegs of Feyn indigo…”
Rahl looked twice. “There are only sixty lis
ted on the declaration, ser.”
“Sixty? Just sixty?”
“Yes, ser.”
Galsyn fumbled through the papers, then nodded. “That’s right. The frigging teamsters dropped two on the pier. Smashed ‘em up good. Should have remembered that. Probably did it so that they could grab some for themselves. They’d have to return it to the trader, but they could probably make off with a silver’s worth in their trousers easy.”
“A silver’s worth?”
“A keg of good indigo will fetch five golds, maybe more.” Galsyn shook his head. “Need to finish this. Ninety-three bales of Lydlerian black wool—raw.”
“Is that the same as the Hamorian wool factor’s wool?”
“No. Alamyrt’s wool is on a separate declaration that he’ll have to make. Because he’s Hamorian, it has to be separate. He pays a lower tariff, but he’ll also pay on his profits from it, or something like that. Now… next item. Ten barrels of hard wheat flour.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl wasn’t having any trouble following Galsyn, but he could see that being purser wasn’t the most interesting job, and he wondered how Meryssa was finding it.
XXXVI
As he sat beside Galsyn at one of the crew’s tables in the mess, eating tough lamb in a stew with over-cooked potatoes and stringy quilla, Rahl could sense someone looking at him. Since his back was to the passenger table, he had no idea who it might be, and he didn’t want to turn around and stare.
“Cook’s done better than this,” muttered Galsyn. “Would have been hard for him to do worse.”
“Careful there,” suggested Trylla, the first mate. “I could tell him, and he might try.”
“Who bought the provisions, purser?” asked the carpenter from the end of the table.
“You’re always telling me that it’s a poor crafter who blames his tools and materials,” countered Galsyn.
“Tools, not materials. Hope you’re not as loose with your figures as your words.“
“Some figures even you’d like to be loose with.”
A series of laughs followed Galsyn’s words. Even Mienfryd laughed, if dourly.
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