“Why do you say that?” says Rhamuel.
“Because I checked with the squad leader in charge of the dispatch records. There haven’t been any riders coming in from the south.” He frowns. “Ascaar wouldn’t send dispatches to the Harbor Post, but either to headquarters or the palace, and there’s no record of a courier from the south coming to either place.”
“So there aren’t any … or they went to the Harbor Post?”
“I’m inclined to think…” Lerial stops as Sammyl steps into the outer chamber, then turns and asks, “What did you discover from Commander Dhresyl?”
“I asked him about the level of troops you both faced. He said that they fought fiercely, to the death in many cases.” Sammyl frowns. “That was not the case at Luba, as I recall.”
Lerial manages to keep his mouth in place. “Were many of them Tourlegyn?”
“I asked the same question,” replies the commander. “It appears, and I say appears, because most of them were not taken captive, and many of the bodies had already been dropped into pits, but it appears that a great number were.”
“So … Khesyn is using them to solve two problems at once,” says Rhamuel. “Save many of his own troops while whittling down our forces … and reducing the future difficulties he may have with the Tourlegyns … who are known to have many offspring.”
“That might mean…” Lerial pauses, then turns back to Sammyl. “What have your scouts discovered?”
“More than ten merchanters moored or anchored off Estheld…”
“No fog or mist?”
“No. The scouts didn’t report any.”
“Good.” That means that there aren’t that many mages there … or that Khesyn wants us to think that there aren’t. “Are any of the ships readying to set sail?”
“It doesn’t appear that way. There was one more ship coming in under reefed sail, and there was another too far off shore to determine where it was headed.”
“I’d suggest posting a battalion at the tileworks … if you haven’t already.” For more than one reason.
“I’ve already dispatched Fourteenth Battalion,” Sammyl declares.
Paelwyr’s battalion? Lerial finds that interesting, possibly disturbing. But then, you’re finding everything disturbing these days. “Has anyone seen Maesoryk?”
“We haven’t been looking,” Sammyl says. “He’s either a traitor or dead.”
“Why do you think that?” asks Rhamuel.
Why is he asking that? To see Sammyl’s reaction? Lerial manages a puzzled expression.
“Because, if he weren’t, he’d be begging to see you or the duke, claiming that the Heldyans invaded his property. At the very least, he’d have sent some sort of whining letter.”
Lerial has to agree with that, and yet … given the arrogance of Afritan merchanters … who could tell for certain how they might react? “Does anyone know whether he’s still in Swartheld? Maybe you should send a company to see if he is?”
Sammyl and Rhamuel exchange glances.
“I take it that isn’t done?”
“It hasn’t been,” says Rhamuel. “Maybe this time we should.” He looks to Sammyl.
“I’ll arrange for it, ser.”
“What about the other merchanters? Have any said anything?” asks Lerial.
“Alaphyn wants to know what we intend to do to reassure all the traders that Swartheld is safe for trade,” says Rhamuel. “He sent a brief note late yesterday.”
“Anyone else?”
“Fhastal has informed me that it’s likely Khesyn has seized his countinghouses in Estheld, Dolari, and Heldya. He has suggested that I seize the countinghouse of Effram in return. There are two, one here in Swartheld and one in Shaelt. He has also suggested that I keep watch on a Cigoernean merchanting factorage in Swartheld.”
“Which one?” asks Lerial.
“Myrapol House. It has factorages in Amaershyn, Heldya, Dolari, Estheld … and Shaelt and Swartheld.” Rhamuel looks to Lerial. “What do you know about it?”
Lerial takes a deep breath, then says, “Enough to say that Myrapol bears watching.”
“It sounds like you know more than that.”
“The house was founded by the consort of a magus who survived the voyage from Cyad. She brought a great array of jewelry, which she sold surreptitiously to gain the golds to build the first factorages. Her death was suspicious. Her son was a Mirror Lancer junior officer likely involved in a plot against Duke Kiedron, but that could never be proved, although he was dismissed from the Lancers. His father is the titular head of Myrapol, but he’s the one running it now.” There was something else about Veraan, but Lerial cannot remember exactly what it was.
“The father is a magus, then?”
“He is.”
“You don’t trust him, I take it?” asks Rhamuel rhetorically.
“I don’t trust either of them.”
“Very interesting.” Abruptly, Rhamuel asks Lerial, “When will I walk again?”