“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.
LXXII
After a passable supper in the common room of the bunkhouse, a fair night’s sleep, and almost no comment by others in the crew about his absence, except a few jokes about coopers, the next morning Kharl was hard at work. Tarkyn had set up a lathe and a planer in a shed on the northern side of the dry dock, a shed kept passably warm inside by an ancient woodstove and surrounded outside by seasoned oak planks stacked chest high. Kharl’s task was to rough-finish the planks to the measurements Tarkyn had already made.
“I thought the shipwrights were the ones working on the Seastag,” Kharl said.
“They do the hull. Captain’s paid extra to have the whole hull checked for shipworms. Problem is…no one can afford to have every plank in the ship copper-treated. Just treat the hull and main timbers. Turns out that there were places where they ate into the interior planks. We get to craft the planking for the sections bein’ replaced.”
Kharl’s eyes went toward the timbers stacked high outside the shed. “All those?”
“Probably not, but there’s a whole section in the main hold…and another just above the bilges in the forward hold…”
Kharl had to smile. Fairness aside, there were reasons why Hagen had wanted him back.
“So you rough-finish the ones for the main hold to size, while I’m down getting the sizes for the forward ones…”
“Leaving me the hard work,” Kharl joked.
“Beats being a cooper without a copper to your name,” retorted Tarkyn with a mock-gruffness. “Should anyway…”
“That it does, most honored master carpenter.” Kharl grinned and offered a deep bow.
They both laughed. Tarkyn was still chucking when he left.
Kharl had been working in the shed for well over a glass and had a goodly sized pile of planks ready for Tarkyn when the door opened. He looked up to see Hagen closing the door and moving toward the lathe. Kharl slowed the lathe and stepped back.
“Hard at work, I see,” said the captain. “Glad to have you back.”
“Yes, ser. I’ve got some catching up to do. Have to say that I’m glad to be back, ser,” Kharl replied. “And I appreciate your kindness. I do.”
“Even with everything Tarkyn had waiting?” Hagen’s eyes twinkled for a moment.
“Even so.” Kharl paused. “Might I ask what’s happening in Valmurl with Lord Ghrant?”
Hagen’s countenance turned sober. “It’s said that his older brother Ilteron has landed an army at Bruel, and the highland barons of the west have thrown in with him.”
Bruel? Where the Hamorians could still send brimstone? Kharl decided not to ask, not yet, instead saying, “I’d heard that Ilteron was a cruel sort. Why would they support him?”
“They can accept his cruelty more than the rule of his brother. They dislike the reforms that Lord Estloch forced on them and Lord Ghrant is said to favor. Especially the right of peasants to buy their way out of indenture. They claim that they’ll lose all their lands because the peasants will all leave.”
“How will most peasants ever raise that kid of coin?” asked Kharl.
Hagen looked sharply at Kharl, then smiled wanly. “Most won’t. It doesn’t matter. The highland lords are used to being absolute rulers over their lands. The merchants and factors have more power in the north and east, and most won’t support Ilteron because they feel that his rule will ruin trade and factoring.”
“Are the east and west of Austra that different?”
“They are indeed.”
“Will the merchants and factors stand behind Lord Ghrant? I’d heard that someone on the factors’ council…”
“Guillam has left Valmurl. The others will hold for Ghrant, but it will be a hard battle because Ilteron has more than a few companies of Hamorian-trained free armsmen.”
“Free armsmen?”
“Armsmen who serve the highest bidder.”