“Yes, ser.” Rona smiled. “Do you want me to tell Da anything?”
“Not yet. Why don’t you come down to the pier with us? That way, if I need you to take a message …”
“Yes, ser!”
Kharl and Speltar walked up the rise from the small barn to the main house, then took the graveled lane that led down to the east and to the pier. Rona followed several paces behind. The lane split a large sloping meadow into two sections of roughly equal size-although the grass was still winter brown, with just the barest hints of green showing beneath the dead thatch. The meadows were bordered by stone walls, beyond which, on the south-facing slopes, were the vineyards that produced much of the income from the estate, mainly from the sale of the pale amber Rhynn, considered a desirable wine with poultry and fish by those well-off in Valmurl and Bruel. In the brief time he’d been at Cantyl, Kharl had discovered that he actually liked good wine, and he suspected that his past dislike of wine had not been a distaste for wine but a repugnance for bad wine-and that had been all that he’d ever tasted. Still, a good lager was his favorite.
The incoming vessel was already well past the harbor mouth and steaming toward the pier, a thin trail of smoke dispersing into the blue-green sky.
“You weren’t expecting a ship?” asked Kharl.
“No, ser.”
Kharl tried to make out the vessel. It wasn’t the Seastag, but with the twin masts, and the midships paddle wheels, it could have been her twin. “Looks like one of Lord Hagen’s vessels.”
“Aye,” offered Speltar. “Looks much like the Seacat. Captain Druen stops here now and again for timbers, and for the wine.”
Kharl and Speltar reached the pier before the ship, but not before Dorwan and his assistant, the wiry Norgal.
“You’ll be handling the lines?” Kharl asked.
“Yes, ser,” replied Dorwan.
“Good.” Kharl paused. “Dorwan … Speltar told me about your idea for the cooperage floor. Using the old flagstones, that’s much better than using softwood. Thank you.”
Dorwan nodded. “My duty, ser.”
“That may be, but I appreciate how well you do it.”
“Thank you, ser.” Dorwan turned toward the end of the pier, watching as the vessel approached with bare steerageway.
When the ship drew within ten rods or so of the pier, Kharl made out the name under the bowsprit-Seafox. Within moments after making out the name, Kharl recognized Hagen, standing just aft of the bow, wearing the same dark gray jacket he’d often worn as master of the Seastag, rather than the finery of the lord-chancellor of Austra. Why was he coming to Cantyl? Or was he stopping on his way to Valmurl?
That was unlikely, Kharl thought, because Hagen had been obliged to ride northward from Dykaru with Lord Ghrant in almost a processional return to Valmurl.
The master of the Seafox backed down the paddle wheels expertly, and the vessel came to rest less than three cubits from the pier. Dorwan and Norgal caught the lines and made them fast to the bollards.
“Walk her in! Lively now!” came the commands from the deck.
When the gangway was down, Hagen was the first one onto the water-whitened timbers of the pier.
Kharl stepped forward, inclining his head to Hagen, out of respect for both the man and the office. “Lord-chancellor.”
“Ser Kharl and mage.” Hagen smiled broadly. “No sooner than you’re out of sight, and you’re back in working grays.” He shook his head in mock-despair.
“I don’t see any lord-chancellor’s finery on you, ser,” Kharl replied.
“Not in traveling,” Hagen said with a laugh. “What’s your excuse, ser Kharl?”
“I was working on turning part of a barn into a cooperage. If we make our own barrels, we can bring in more coins from the wine. We can also save on storage barrels ….”
Hagen shook his head. “Lord Ghrant will be disappointed to hear that his mage has returned to coopering.”
“I can’t be a mage all the time, not when matters here are peaceful.” Kharl gestured toward the Seafox. “I’m not sure that we have any cargo for your ship.” He turned toward the steward. “Speltar? Do we have cargo that should go?”
“Not right now, ser.”
“That makes us even,” replied Hagen. “We don’t have anything to off-load, either. Or so I’m told.”
Kharl gestured toward the house. “Would you like to see the house? You haven’t seen it before, have you?”
“No. I wasn’t exactly favored by either Lord Julon or Lord Estloch.” Hagen’s voice was dry. “I’d like to see it. I do need a few words with you, as well. That’s why I’m here, but we can talk while you give me a private tour.”
Kharl caught the slight emphasis on private. Of course, Hagen had a reason for stopping in Cantyl. He turned to Speltar. “Speltar, if you and Rona would let Adelya know that the lord-chancellor will be having the midday meal with me. We’ll eat in the breakfast room, just the two of us.”
“Yes, ser.”
As Rona and Speltar hurried ahead of them, Kharl and Hagen started up the lane toward the house at a more measured pace.
After several moments, Kharl glanced at Hagen. “You can stay for a midday meal, at least, can’t you? I didn’t ask you … I just thought …” His eyes flicked back, but Dorwan and Norgal had remained on the pier.
“That would be about all,” replied Hagen, with a laugh. “Lord Ghrant expects me for tomorrow afternoon’s audience.” Hagen paused. “He expects you as well.”
“Me?”
Lord Ghrant had told Kharl his services might be required, but within two eightdays of coming to Cantyl?
“He has a problem,” Hagen said. “The problem is Guillam.”
“The head of the factors’ council?” As Kharl recalled, perhaps accordingto Lyras, the black mage who had claimed he was but a minor mage, if that, Guillam had been quietly backing Ilteron and had slipped out of Valmurl during the revolt.
“Guillam claims that he is a most faithful subject. For obvious reasons, Lord Ghrant has his doubts. You are known to be a mage, and Lord Ghrant wishes you present when he receives Guillam.”
“He expects I will know if Guillam lies, then?”
“Will you not? You knew when Asolf was lying about stealing Reisl’s coins.”
Again, Kharl was reminded of how thorough Hagen was, and how he had known everything aboard the Seastag. Doubtless, that attention to detail was what had made him the owner of ten ships and lord-chancellor. “I usually can tell.”
“That could be a problem,” mused Hagen.
“That I might not be able to tell?”
“No. That you could. Let us say that Guillam did support Ilteron. What else can Lord Ghrant do but execute or exile him?” Hagen cocked his head, waiting for an answer from Kharl.
“If he does either, then, that will upset the other factors.”
“All regarded Ghrant as weak.”
“He still is,” suggested Kharl. “He has a strong lord-chancellor.”
“And a black mage,” added Hagen.
“So … you are suggesting that my presence is more important than my judgment?”
“Your presence is most important.”
Kharl realized that. It had to be, with Hagen diverting one of his ships to get Kharl. “Does it matter so much what Guillam has done as what he will do? Does his past matter as much as his loyalty?”
Hagen fingered his chin, smiling broadly. “So you would have him questioned about both his past and his loyalty?”
“If he lies about his past, but honestly believes that he is loyal,” Kharl said slowly, “Lord Ghrant might overlook his lies.”
“That is possible, but what if Guillam lies about his loyalty?”
“Then Ghrant is better off if he is dead or exiled, I would judge,” Kharl replied carefully.
“Dead. Traitorous exiles can return.”
Kharl wasn’t so sure that he liked having Guillam’s life put in his hands.