“I went to Vizyn once with Clandal.” Erdyl shrugged. “It was even colder than Norbruel, and that was in the summer.”
“Nordla can be a dangerous place,” Kharl said. “Lord West and his sons have killed many who made the mistake of talking about them in public. The less we speak about ourselves and about them, the better.”
“The lord-chancellor said that I was only to say that you were the lord of Cantyl and that you had once been a merchant officer.”
“That’s right.” Kharl nodded. “You should say only that your sire is the lord of Norbruel.” He could sense a quiet solidness about the young man, and he had the feeling that Hagen had picked well. “We should let others talk.”
Erdyl laughed. “Father is always saying that. He said you couldn’t hook the smallest gilly in the brook if it kept its mouth shut.”
Kharl found that he was enjoying talking to young Erdyl, and regretted that, after he ate, he would have to go back to the Hall of Justice to work on the brief suggested by Jusof. He supposed he would learn from that, but he was not looking forward to that learning. Writing anything was a chore, and a laborious one at that.
LII
Kharl walked down the main floor corridor of the Great House toward the lord-chancellor’s chamber, for the private midday meal to which he had been invited by a messenger. Had his brief for Jusof and the lord- justicer been so bad that Hagen had reconsidered sending him to Brysta as an envoy? Kharl frowned. He knew what he had written had been simple, but all he could write about the law and the case was simple.
As he neared the chamber, the guard on the left opened the door. “He’s expecting you, Lord Kharl.”
Hagen rose from behind the table desk as Kharl entered the chamber. The mage turned to close the door, but the armsman had already shut it.
“Greetings, Kharl.” Hagen smiled. “I’m glad you could join me.” He gestured to the place set across from him. Only a goblet and a beaker were on the polished wood surface, and Hagen’s goblet held red wine, the beaker for Kharl a lager.
“I appreciate it. Not too many wish to eat with me, except for Casolan and Norgen.”
“That’s not surprising,” Hagen replied, seating himself once more. “You have the power to punish, but not reward. People generally risk the chance of hearing bad news from me because they feel I can also reward them-or provide information or some sort of advantage.”
Kharl settled into the chair, studying Hagen.
The lord-chancellor looked tired, with blackish circles under his eyes. His face was thinner, and one eye twitched.
“You’ve met several times with Erdyl now.”
“We’ve talked over meals,” Kharl replied. “I’ve told him what to expect in Brysta, a little about how it’s laid out... that sort of thing.”
“Good.” Hagen paused. “You’ve now been studying under Jusof for almost four eightdays. How have you found it?”
Kharl’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I have found that I write poorly. The more I learn about the law, the less I like it. Yet the less I like it, the more I understand how necessary it is for a land.”
“You already understand more than some advocates.” Hagen paused to take a sip from his goblet.
Kharl doubted that, but did not say so.
“Be that as it may, I’ve talked with Lord Justicer Priost and with Jusof. Jusof feels that within the next eightday, it is likely that you will have learned as much as is necessary for an envoy to know. He and the lord justicer are also willing to provide you with a letter of introduction to the lord justicers of Brysta. It will state that you have been a most diligent scholar of the law in Valmurl, and that they hope that their peers in Nordla will extend you every courtesy in allowing you to pursue your studies there, as your other duties permit.”
Kharl took a sip of the lager. “You need me to go to Brysta soon, I take it. Are things bad there?”
“Not yet, but they will be, I fear. We had received word that Lord West had fallen ill. That happens. Then we later heard indirectly from a Sarronnese trader that Lord West was poisoned, but will recover.” Hagen paused. “When there is an attempt such as this, there is most likely to be another one. From what you have said, I would wager that young Egen has enlisted some Hamorian assistance in the matter of his sire’s illness. We do not know this, but as you have seen here, there is a certain pattern to the way the emperor and his minions work. As you can, we need you to discover what is really happening and how deeply Hamor is involved.”
“You said you had spies ...” ventured Kharl.
“We did. That is another reason for concern. Two are dead, and one has vanished. That is why we must rely on indirect reports. That also concerns Lord Ghrant.”
“The Hamorians seem to be moving quickly after their defeat here.”
“The emperor does not admit defeats. He suffers but temporary setbacks. That is what his late envoy Joharak once told me. I would also imagine that they would like to make such an effort before Lord Ghrant can rebuild Austra.” “Lord Ghrant has no designs on Nordla, does he?”
“Of course not.” Hagen snorted. “Because the Hamorians have such designs, though, they imagine everyone else has the same motivations.” He paused at the knock on the door.
“Your dinner, sers,” came the voice of one of the guards.
“Come on in.”
One of the serving girls from the kitchen stepped into the chamber carrying a tray. She inclined her head. “Lord-chancellor, Lord Kharl.”
The platters both contained ascalyn-veal thinly sliced, marinated in a mint sauce, braised quickly, and served with a browned butter sauce and fried pearapples. A large basket of bread came with the meal. Kharl had only tasted ascalyn once, and that had been at the consort feast of Charee’s cousin Vertya.
Once the server had left, Hagen raised his goblet. “To better days.”
“To better days.”
They both ate silently for a time. Kharl found the veal far better than he had remembered it, but he suspected that his memory had been accurate, and that the preparation at the Great House was far better.
Hagen broke off a chunk of the brown bread. “You’ll have to leave within a few days, as soon as the Seastag is loaded. She ported yesterday. She was on a short-leg voyage to Nylan, Lydiar, Renklaar, and Worrak.”
“How else do you think I should prepare? Is there anything else I should know? Can I tell Erdyl?”
“You can tell young Erdyl. He has said nothing to anyone, except that he is learning what he can at the Great House. There is little else that we can provide, except that Lord Ghrant will have to proclaim you as an envoy. That will be as late as possible, the day before you depart on the Seastag. But you cannot be recognized as an envoy without the audience and proclamation. It will be a short ceremony.” Hagen added, “There is one other thing. I shouldn’t have to tell you, but we all overlook things. The Hamorians will not wish you in Brysta. I would not put it past them to attempt some action against you.” “How would they find out if the ceremony is just before I leave?”
“We have spies in Swartheld, and they have spies here. Most spies know that it is difficult to kill a mage who is forewarned or alert. I would doubt that you will have much difficulty in such a fashion, but. .. many spies are good at indirection. I know you can detect poison ... but that ability does little good if you do not realize that even food prepared by close friends can be poisoned without their knowing it. Crossbow bolts kill if you do not see them coming. Even cliffs have been toppled on mages, I’ve been told.” Hagen shook his head.
“Are you trying to tell me not to go to Brysta?”
“No. I want you to come back ... And one last thing, Kharl. About that beard ...”
“I know. It would be foolish to go to Brysta looking the way I once did.”
“You might also want people here to see what you look like without it, before the audience.”
“Do you want me to shave it off tonight?” Kharl asked. “Woul
d that be soon enough?”
“No,” parried the lord-chancellor, “tomorrow morning would be most suitable.”
They both burst into laughter.
LIII
It was hot the midsummer morning, even before the second glass after dawn, that Kharl was blotting his forehead even before he dismounted outside the Hall of Justice and handed the gelding’s reins to Dorfal. He had to admit that on days so warm, he didn’t miss having a beard. Winter might be another story.
“I’ll just be waiting, ser,” offered the young lancer.
“Thank you.” The day was to be his last with Jusof, and it would be short, since Kharl’s audience with Lord Ghrant was set for the glass before noon.
Kharl walked through the double doors into the cooler main foyer and headed up the narrow stairs to the upper level.
Jusof rose as Kharl entered. “Good morning, Lord Kharl.”
“Good morning,” returned the mage. “It’s hot out.”
“It will be warm in here as well by afternoon.” Jusof nodded. “Congratulations on your appointment to Brysta as the envoy. We received the proclamation for posting just half a glass ago, not that we had not heard in secrecy several days ago.” The clerk smiled. “The lord- chancellor’s motives in having you study law are most clear.”
“I think I know just enough to be wary of any laws and those who administer them,” Kharl replied. “Especially when they are not of such honesty as Lord Justicer Priost.”
“That is wise, even for advocates,” said Jusof. “Still, you know more than you allow yourself credit for. You seem to have mastered the basics of jurisprudence, the very basics, but many who call themselves advocates often know less.”
After almost four eightdays, Kharl hoped he had learned something, but doubted that he had learned much more than to apply what he had already known to the law.
“There is little point in your studying more unless you plan to become an advocate.” Jusof smiled. “You must indulge me if I point out that such seems most unlikely. You have a talent for the law, but I cannot see Lord Ghrant-or your own talents-restricting you to the Hall of Justice.”
The mage nodded.
Jusof handed Kharl two elaborately sealed letters. “The lord- chancellor had requested that the lord justicer and I both draft and sign these letters commending you as a scholar of the legal system to whatever clerks and justicers you may need to approach in Nordla or elsewhere. Lord Justicer Priost was most impressed with your brief on the Lendyl case. It might have used some more polish, but the logic and the precedents were sound. He did say that you might well be wasted as a mage.” Jusof laughed softly.
“But... I’ve never met the lord justicer,” Kharl observed, slipping the letters into a jacket pocket.
“That is true, and that is as it should be. Were the Lord’s mage ever to have met with the lord justicer, many would think that Lord Ghrant might be pressing for something in the Hall of Justice. Lord Justicer Priost has not met with Lord Ghrant, except at very public dinners at the Great House, or at his blind briefings of Lord Ghrant, since he became lord justicer.” Jusof cleared his throat. “That does not mean, in regard to you, Lord Kharl, that he has not been apprised of all you have done, and he was most impressed with your diligence, as well as your understanding.”
“I’ll accept the diligence,” Kharl replied. “I hope the understanding will come.”
“As I am most certain you know,” Jusof said with a dryness just short of the pedantic, “understanding is the virtue most often claimed and least often exhibited. Since you have already shown it elsewhere, I have no doubts it will surface in the law as well.” He smiled once more. “I will not keep you, Lord Kharl, but it has truly been a pleasure to work with you.”
“Thank you.” Kharl inclined his head. “You have been most understanding.”
After taking his leave of the chief clerk and heading back down to the main level, Kharl was still mulling over his surprise that Jusof had been pleased to work with him.
Even after such a short time, the square was even hotter than when he had entered the Hall of Justice, and he was once more blotting his forehead as he and Dorfal rode back toward the Great House.
“You’ll not be coming here any longer, ser?” asked the lancer.
“No. Today was the last day.”
“Will you be heading back to your lands, then, ser?”
“That is up to the lord-chancellor and Lord Ghrant.” Kharl felt uncomfortable with the answer, true as it was, because it was misleading, but he also did not wish to announce what he would be doing on the open streets of Valmurl.
“Yes, ser.”
“Are you going to stay a lancer?” Kharl asked.
“I don’t know, ser. I’ve another two years. Then, I have to decide whether to go for five or leave.” Dorfal laughed.
“Undercaptain Demyst was saying that I ought to stay on. Told me that fighting like we been through only comes every double handful of years, and that I ought to take the easy years that follow.” “Do you want to go back to crabbing?”
“Not really, ser. Don’t know as I see myself as a lancer for years either, though.”
Kharl smiled faintly. He’d never thought about it at Dorfal’s age. He’d just assumed he would be a cooper. Then, that might have been because he’d liked being a cooper, liked the smell and feel of the wood, and the sense of having done something right when a barrel or keg or hogshead had been finished. He didn’t presume to offer Dorfal advice. “I’m sure that when the time comes you’ll do fine.”
Dorfal smiled uneasily.
When they reached the Great House, Kharl dismounted in the front entry and let the young lancer take the mounts. He made his way to his quarters, where he washed up again and changed into his newest magely finery, garb that had been paid for by Lord Ghrant, along with five other sets of clothing deemed suitable for an envoy.
Then he made his way down to the hallway outside the main audience hall, where Hagen found him.
“You look most impressive, Lord Kharl,” offered the lord-chancellor.
Kharl felt more like a traitor bird dressed in the plumage of a raven. “I’m not certain I’ll ever get used to wearing end-day finery all the time.”
“It looks good on you.” Hagen’s smile dropped away. “The ceremony will be very short. Afterward, there will be a midday dinner with Lord Ghrant, Lady Hyrietta, and a few others.”
“You didn’t mention that.”
An impish smile crossed Hagen’s face. “I didn’t? It must have slipped my mind.”
Kharl shook his head. “If Glyan’s experiments with the new wine barrels don’t work, I’ll send a half barrel to you.”
Hagen laughed softly. “I need to go so that I can be on the dais before Ghrant enters.” With a nod, he slipped away.
Kharl stood in the side hallway, away from the audience hall doors, where he could not see who entered the hall nor be seen by them, for another quarter glass.
“Lord Kharl, ser ... you’ve been summoned,” called one of the arms- men in the yellow and black of the personal guard.
Kharl walked around the corner and toward the doors. When he was in place, one of the armsmen opened the door, and Kharl stepped through it. The hall had but perhaps a score of people in it, and slightly less than half of those Kharl knew. He had half expected to see Norgen and Casolan, and he did, but he had not expected to see Lady Hyrietta standing behind Lord Ghrant’s shoulder as her consort waited for Kharl to reach the dais. Nor had he expected to see Lyras standing beside Casolan, nor Jusof and Lord Justicer Priost.
He squared his shoulders and walked deliberately forward, halting several cubits short of the dais, as he had seen all the others do at various audiences. There he bowed slightly, and waited.
Lord Ghrant smiled, and Kharl could sense that it was a friendly smile, albeit one with a hint of nervousness behind it. “Lord Kharl of Cantyl, are you a true and faithful subject of Austra?”
“I
am, your lordship.”
“Are you willing to serve, to the fullest and best of your abilities, as an envoy of Austra?”
“I am, your lordship.”
“Then, Lord Kharl of Cantyl, you are hereby appointed as the envoy of the Lord of Austra to the West Quadrant of Nordla, governed by Lord West, with all powers and privileges accorded such envoys, and with the responsibilities required by such powers.”
“Thank you, your lordship.”
“Thank you, Lord Kharl, for taking on those responsibilities and duties. We wish you well.” Ghrant nodded.
Kharl bowed twice, then turned and walked from the audience chamber.
Outside, a messenger was waiting. “Lord Kharl, ser, if you would follow me?”
They had traveled but twenty cubits when Hagen appeared.
“I’ll escort him from here,” the lord-chancellor suggested.
“Ah ... yes, ser.”
Hagen smiled, and the messenger scurried away.
“How do you feel as an envoy?” asked Hagen.
“Not that different,” Kharl admitted. “A little more worried. What about this dinner?”
“Oh, it will be very social. Just don’t talk about Brysta or magery unless you’re asked. Otherwise, you can talk about anything.”
Kharl resolved to listen more than talk.
After the private dinner, which was completely social and without a word of either Brysta or what Kharl would be doing as envoy, Kharl accompanied Hagen back to the lord-chancellor’s chamber. He was thinking about being an envoy, and all that it might entail.
Two years in Brysta? It could be much less, Hagen had said. However long it might be, Kharl supposed that it wouldn’t be all that bad, certainly not so bad as living between the walls of a renderer’s vats and a tannery as he had before escaping Brysta. He did have to find Warrl and make arrangements to get him to Cantyl. He could see what else he might be able to do for Sanyle and Jeka. He hoped that Gharan had been able to keep Jeka on as a weaver.
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