Something about the study … Then Lerial realizes that he stands in the first study he can recall that does not have what amounts to a conference or plaques table within it.
He walks to the desk, admiring the workmanship of the inlay pattern, reflecting on all that he has viewed over the past two glasses, ranging from an extensive subterranean wine cellar in one outbuilding, to the three cells of a dungeon beneath the barracks building, adjoining an armory still containing a considerable assortment of well-maintained weapons. Both the barracks and dungeon have been recently occupied. Surrounding the villa are the varied gardens, several of which can be entered from a handful of the more than a score of luxurious chambers in the south wing of the villa. There is even a small locked chamber that serves as repository for chests of golds and silvers. Finding the key had not been that difficult. It had been one of three concealed in Jhosef’s wide leather belt.
Lerial, accompanied by Norstaan, had unlocked the strongbox chamber and viewed the three chests—one for golds, one for silvers, and one for coppers. He hadn’t counted the coins, just estimated, and that estimate suggested that the three small chests contained an amount equal to more than five thousand golds.
Thinking over the locked storeroom and all the furnishings, garments, paintings, and other artwork, not to mention the villa and grounds, Lerial shakes his head at the wealth embodied in Jhosef’s summer villa. Perhaps worth more golds than the value of not only the palace but of every merchanter’s dwelling and factorage in all Cigoerne … and he is not even the wealthiest factor in Afrit … and this is just a summer villa.
At the knock on the study door, Lerial turns. “Yes?”
Two lancers stand there. Between them is a round-faced and balding man of perhaps thirty-five years.
“The seneschal fled, ser. We have the assistant to the seneschal.”
“What’s your name?” asks Lerial.
“Baniel, ser, honored Lord.” The assistant seneschal’s bow almost prostrates him, and as he rises his eyes do not quite meet Lerial’s.
“Come in. We have a few matters to discuss, Baniel.”
The assistant seneschal steps into the study, stopping several yards short of Lerial.
“Was any other member of Merchanter Jhosef’s family here beside his son Oestyn?”
“No, ser.”
“Why not?”
“They do not come here. I do not know why. Kourast might know, but he fled with the merchanter’s personal guards.”
“Where was the heir staying while he was here?”
“In one of the guest chambers…”
“Was that the one with the iron-braced outside shutters and the door that could be barred only from outside?”
“Yes, ser.”
“How often is that chamber used?”
“I could not say, ser. It has not been used often in recent years, but how many times I could not say.”
“Were women housed there?”
“I know that happened once. The other times, I do not know. I do not know of any men who stayed there besides the heir.”
“Why not?”
“Kourast was in charge of the villa, ser. I was the assistant for the grounds.”
Lerial can sense no chaos or evasion with that statement. In fact, he has sensed little of that, except a trace when Baniel talked about not knowing whether those housed in the only barred guest chamber were women.
“What were your duties?”
“I was over those who worked in all of the outbuildings except for the spirits building, the guardhouse, and the gate buildings. The gardens and the orchards, and the grounds themselves. I had nothing to do with the merchanter’s grounds guards or personal guards. They reported to Oiden.”
“Was Oiden the chaos-mage?”
“Yes, ser.”
That doesn’t surprise Lerial, either.
Lerial’s questions last for another half glass before he asks, “Do you have any questions, Baniel?”
“Are you claiming the villa, honored Lord?” asks Baniel, his voice more obsequious than deferential.
“It’s not mine to claim. What happens to the villa and those in it is up to Duke Rhamuel. Your task is to maintain it for whoever will take possession. If anything is missing or damaged, beyond what has already occurred, everyone will suffer, especially you. Is that clear?”
Baniel swallows, not so much at the words, Lerial suspects, but at the tone in which Lerial has delivered them. “Yes, ser.”
“You may go. No one is to leave the grounds. That includes you. You are to relay my orders to the rest of the villa and grounds staff immediately.”
“Yes, ser.” Baniel’s bow is deep and obsequious.
“And your bows would be better if you weren’t so obviously excessively flattering,” Lerial adds dryly.
Baniel stiffens, then swallows again before asking, “By your leave, Lord Lerial?”
“You may go.”
Lerial watches as Baniel turns and leaves. He waits several moments, then follows, pausing beside the rankers. “Guard the study.” After those words to the pair of lancers, Lerial wraps a concealment around himself and follows the assistant seneschal.