Fiveday morning dawns bright and clear, and Lerial is at the palace shortly after seventh glass, again meeting with Sammyl and Rhamuel.
“The merchanters put to sea before the storm hit,” Sammyl reports. “Now that the weather has calmed, they’re all returning. There wasn’t any great damage to the piers here, and there likely wasn’t much to the piers at Estheld.”
“How long will it take to load the first ships?” asks Lerial, shifting his weight in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair.
“Most of today, I’d say. That’s if they’re not carrying cargo. Could be days if they’re loading cargo,” ventures Sammyl.
“The only cargo will be weapons and mounts,” declares Rhamuel, his forearms resting on the wooden surface of the table desk.
“If they’re headed to Baiet, they’ll want to cast off by second or third glass at the latest. That’s if they want to port before dark.”
“Then I need to be going,” says Lerial. “I need to get very close to Estheld.” The city of Heldya would be better, but it’s hundreds of kays away over hostile ground, not water, and we don’t have time for that.
“You’re planning what…” begins Sammyl, his voice dropping off at the look from the arms-commander.
“I think we can trust Overcaptain Lerial to act in both our interests and his,” Rhamuel says firmly.
Lerial can tell that Sammyl wants to know what he has in mind. For that reason alone, he doesn’t want to say much, in part because he has no idea if he can do what he has in mind. “The more I know, the more we’ll know what to do … and when.”
“We have sent scouts in other sail-galleys…”
Lerial smiles and rises. “For that I’m very grateful. I’ll let you know what I’ve found out when I return.”
Sammyl looks as though he wants to say something, but then just nods, as though he has decided against it.
“We’ll look forward to your report,” says Rhamuel.
Fhuraan and Fourth Squad from Eighth Company are waiting in the palace courtyard when Lerial reaches the stables.
“You’ve already got the squad mounted?” asks Lerial.
“I didn’t think you’d be long this morning, ser.”
The squad, with Fhuraan and Lerial immediately behind two outriders, takes the wide merchant avenue from the ring road around the palace along the base of the merchanters’ hill, where Kyedra remains with her mother and grandfather, then past the harbor. Lerial is surprised to see a good ten merchanters tied up at the piers, and crews and loaders very busily carrying goods on board the vessels.
Lerial frowns. The last time the Heldyans invaded, the harbor was empty. Why is it different now? He looks at the piers. All the goods are going on the ships. He nods. That, unfortunately, makes sense. It is also suggestive of the lack of confidence at least some of the merchanters have in Rhamuel and the Afritan Guard. But then, it could be that they are simply coppering their bets, sending goods out just in case matters do turn out badly for Swartheld.
As they ride up the road toward the Harbor Post, Lerial sees that groups of Heldyan prisoners, under guard, are still engaged in burying the dead from the fighting that ended almost an eightday ago. So many dead … or such lack of organization? Given that Dhresyl seems stronger on logistics than battle planning and anticipation, Lerial would wager on the former. And for what? And the fighting and the deaths are far from over, no matter who triumphs.
“Ser? You’re going to take a sail-galley out, aren’t you?”
For a moment, Lerial wonders how Fhuraan knows that, since he has not mentioned that specifically, but then realizes that the squad leaders must talk among themselves, and there was no secret about the fact that he’d tried to take one the day before. “Yes.”
“I’d feel better if you’d take Toeryn with you. He comes from a river family, and knows boats … and he’s good with weapons.”
“That’s a good idea.” Lerial grins. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
“I wish I had, ser,” admits Fhuraan. “Dhoraat suggested it.”
“I’m glad you two came up with it.”
When Lerial arrives at the stables at Harbor Post, he and Toeryn, a wiry ranker half a head shorter than Lerial, dismount, leave the squad, cross the southern end of the courtyard, and walk down the tunnel corridor to the boatyard and the pier. Lerial carries a water bottle filled with slightly watered lager. After they walk from the dimness of the tunnel into the bright early-morning sunlight, Lerial has to look around before he sees any of the Afritan Guards. Then, from the far side of the boatyard, Elphred hurries toward them.
“Overcaptain, ser! No one told us you were coming so early.”
“You’re right about that, galley master. I didn’t. That’s my fault. How soon can you be ready to set out?”
“Might be a half glass, ser.”
“Oh, this is Toeryn. He’ll be accompanying us. Unlike me, he has some experience on the water.”
“Just two of you, ser … that won’t be a problem. If you’ll excuse me…”