“I doubt we’ll have to worry about the Heldyans for some time.” The merchanters of Afrit are another question, especially once they’re no longer worried about Khesyn.
Fhuraan studies Lerial. “You’ll need guards, I think, even after we get to the palace?”
Lerial nods.
“Begging your pardon, ser, but should you even ride that far?”
“I may not be in the best of condition, but I’m in no danger of collapsing. Thanks to Toeryn, I had some food and lager after we returned. I trust you and the squad did as well.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Then we’d best head out.”
Lerial and Fourth Squad leave Harbor Post almost unnoticed, or so it seems to him, and then ride past what looks to be the last of the Heldyan prisoner burial details. When they come to that section of the road passing the harbor, Lerial notes that the loading of the various merchanters is continuing, unabated. Do they think that Khesyn will attack because they believe the fires at Estheld aren’t that severe? Or because he’ll be enraged at an attack on his lands? Lerial just hopes he is not mistaken in his belief that Khesyn will have his hands more than full with troubles in Heldya for several years to come.
The guards at the palace look at Lerial and the Mirror Lancers and wave them through, and the duty squad leader doesn’t even look askance as two lancers flank Lerial when he enters the building, before making his way up to Rhamuel’s chambers. The lancers plant themselves outside the sitting room—after looking in to see that only Sammyl and Rhamuel are inside.
“Escorts, yet?” murmurs Sammyl in a voice barely audible.
“They tend to be protective when I’m tired,” replies Lerial with a faint smile. “I am a bit tired. It’s been a rather long day.”
“The lookouts report a great deal of fire and smoke rising from Estheld,” says Rhamuel, his words clearly a bland understatement. “I presume you and your lancers had something to do with that.”
Lerial doesn’t feel like either boasting or demurring. “We did.”
“Won’t that just enrage Duke Khesyn?” asks Sammyl.
“I’m sure it will,” replies Lerial. “He’s bound to be enraged by the loss of all the merchanters tied or anchored at Estheld, somewhere around fifteen, not to mention the thousands of armsmen who died or the fact that it appeared that most of the harbor was burning to the ground when we departed. I could be wrong, but I believe he’s going to have more serious problems on his hands than trying to invade Afrit again.”
“Might I ask how … all that happened?” Sammyl doesn’t conceal his skepticism.
“A little chaos and order, placed here and there, combined with the fact that Khesyn built everything cheaply, believing that Estheld only had to last until he conquered Afrit and took Swartheld … with the encouragement of Maesoryk and a few other well-placed Afritan merchanters, of course.”
The commander’s skeptical expression gives way to one of puzzlement.
“He built everything of wood, and it was built close together. Seasoned wood burns very quickly, and if there’s a great deal of it, it burns hot and faster than people can escape, except into the water, and the water off Estheld, I’m told, is rather deep.” After taking in the appalled expression on Sammyl’s face, Lerial adds, “I don’t like fighting unnecessary battles against unprincipled enemies enabled by even less principled merchanters who are also traitors to their own land, because others have been more successful in amassing golds.”
“I believe Lord Lerial has an excellent point, Sammyl,” says Rhamuel. “Do you have any problems with what he has said?”
“Ah … there may well be traitors, but proving that they have acted in such a fashion might be difficult.”
“It might,” agrees Rhamuel, “but it’s to be preferred over sending an outnumbered Afritan Guard out to fight another battle against fresh Heldyan hordes. Is it not?”
“Yes, ser.”
“I do have one question,” Lerial adds. “Who bears the cost of the loss of all those merchanters that were destroyed at Estheld?”
“That depends on the contracts between the merchanters and Duke Khesyn. Unless there are special provisions, vessels used for purposes of warfare are not covered by any surety.”
“That would mean that the merchanters owning them would bear the losses, then?” asks Lerial.
“Some of them might have asked Khesyn for indemnity. He’d likely have agreed, but he won’t pay it. Of course,” Rhamuel adds, dryly, “Khesyn might attempt to claim Afrit was the cause of the fires.”
“If it comes to that, blame it on the god/goddess of the Kaordists,” suggests Lerial tiredly. “There were no ships attacking, and no troopers anywhere around.”