“Right now, there’s no way to tell. He wasn’t part of the memorial. He’s not family, and that had to be family only … or…”
Lerial understands. If Dafaal had been included, then Rhamuel can’t claim the memorial was family and private. “Dafaal could have been part of the plot, and whoever was in charge wants to remove all links…”
“I fear that is the most likely. We won’t ever know for certain, I suspect.”
“What other merchanters have you heard from?”
“Fhastal. He’s pledged whatever golds I need, for Afritan Guard pay, rebuilding, whatever. Aenslem, although he’s not well … flux is hanging on…”
It is the second time Lerial has heard about Aenslem’s illness, and that disturbs him.
“… Mesphaes and Lhugar, of course, and Jhosef, but he would toady up to whoever is in power…”
“Not … Alaphyn?” Lerial has to struggle for the merchanter’s name.
“You think he might have been with Maesoryk?”
“It took a number of merchant vessels to carry those troopers from Estheld, and we can be fairly sure Aenslem’s ships weren’t involved.”
“Frig … should have thought about that. Those two have always been close.”
“Those two? Alaphyn and Maesoryk?”
Rhamuel nods.
Although they discuss more about the merchanters over the next third of a glass or so, in the end, Lerial does not discover anything new, and he forces himself to sit down and wait for Sammyl to return. He hopes it won’t be too long before the commander can discover what is happening in Estheld … and whether there are more merchant ships gathering there.
Another attack is all we need.
XXXIX
By fourth glass of the afternoon, Lerial is ready to pace around the outer sitting room, despite feeling still tired, although he can order-sense a bit farther away. Rhamuel is resting in the bedchamber. While Sammyl has sent out scouts to see what can be determined about the harbor at Estheld, he has cautioned Lerial that it may take several glasses, or possibly until twoday morning. In the meantime, he has departed to meet with Dhresyl and to see the situation at the Harbor Post for himself.
So Lerial sits behind the table desk, thinking, and waiting for either the scouting reports or for Norstaan to return, since the undercaptain has been summoned to the courtyard for some reason. What if Khesyn is readying another attack? Why would he do that? Especially after losing so many men? Lerial knows he is missing something … and just hopes he can recall that in time. Maybe by tomorrow …
He looks up as the outer door opens and Norstaan steps into the sitting room, accompanied by a youth wearing a riding jacket that looks to be a uniform of sorts, along with a soft felt hat of the kind worn by merchanter guards, and a broad leather belt. The blade at the youth’s waist looks to be slightly shorter than a sabre, the kind claimed to be more effective in dealing with ruffians at close range. That is the rationale, Lerial knows, although he has his doubts about the greater effectiveness of a shorter blade, suspecting that it is a tacit acknowledgment that merchanter guards should not bear longer weapons than the Afritan Guard … or the Mirror Lancers.
Those thoughts vanish as he sees the smile on Norstaan’s face and belatedly recognizes Kyedra. He bolts to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Grandpapa is ill. He may be dying. Mother sent me.”
“Alone? Why did you have to come?”
Kyedra shakes her head impatiently. “Of course not. I had two palace guards and two of Grandpapa’s guards. I wore men’s riding trousers and a guard’s jacket—an Aenian House jacket. Besides, no one thinks a woman in man’s clothing without a head scarf could be anything but a youth. I came so that you’d know it wasn’t a ruse or a trap … after all the … after everything…”
“And you can handle that blade?”
“I can. Uncle Rham saw to that.” She looks directly at Lerial. “Mother wants you to tend to Grandpapa.”
“I can see what I can do.” Lerial refrains from frowning, because he has never mentioned anything about his being able to heal to Haesychya. Rhamuel must have told her.
“See?”
“Look at him, Lady,” Norstaan says, his voice barely above a murmur.
For the first time, Kyedra studies Lerial. Then she asks, “What happened?”
“I got caught in the backlash of a huge chaos-explosion.”
“It destroyed more than three battalions of Heldyan troops,” Norstaan says. “Commander Dhresyl doubts we would have prevailed otherwise.”
Lerial looks to Norstaan. “I don’t think we should wake the arms-commander.” For a number of reasons. “There’s nothing else the Mirror Lancers can do today, and my squad should certainly provide enough protection for Lady Kyedra. If Commander Sammyl should return before the arms-commander wakes…” Lerial ponders what he should say.
“Ser?”