“I suppose you were the only one to see this?”
“Hardly. Undercaptain Norstaan did, and so did a number of armsmen and some servitors.”
“Ah … so many witnesses that there is little doubt of what happened.” Maesoryk frowns. “Do you know why Jhosef acted as he did?”
“I thought you might have some idea,” replies Lerial. “He did say that the merchanters would never accept Rhamuel as duke.”
“‘Never’ is a dangerous word to bandy about.”
“I’ve thought that as well. But … you didn’t offer any thought as to why Jhosef did what he did.”
“It’s obvious that he was deluded enough to believe he could rule Afrit through Mykel. Only a produce merchanter could be that deluded,” Maesoryk finishes dryly.
“Were Jhosef’s mages acquainted with your mages?”
“I have no chaos-mages.”
The fact that Maesoryk’s statement comes across without chaos is only an indication that he has none at the moment. “I had heard that you did, and that you lost both of them in supporting Khesyn’s invasion of Afrit…”
Maesoryk laughs, an open and honest sound. “I see you believe what everyone thinks. I’ve never had a chaos-mage in my life. I told everyone that I did so that no one would try to kill me…”
There is enough chaos around Maesoryk as he speaks that Lerial is fascinated, because it is clear that there is at least some truth behind the merchanter’s words, but that chaos, combined with his earlier statement of not presently having chaos mages, is effectively a confirmation that he did in fact have such … before Lerial destroyed them. Lerial can almost—almost—admire the merchanter’s bold-faced effrontery and clever prevarication.
“Do you really think I could live with two mages close by? For them to be useful, they would have to be closer than I’d ever want one…” Maesoryk shakes his head. “You said you killed both of Jhosef’s mages? And that resulted in Jhosef’s and Oestyn’s deaths?”
“Since the mages attacked me, I didn’t have much choice.”
“Still … you seem to have allowed some possibly unnecessary deaths, Lord Lerial.”
“Unnecessary? I think not. My duty is to do what is best for Cigoerne and for Afrit, and that means what is best for Duke Rhamuel, not merchanters who have committed treason for the sake of golds.”
“What a quaint concept of duty. Golds are what support a land.”
“Only when they are honestly obtained and used.”
“In some cases, honestly is a matter of perspective.” Maesoryk smiles. “Would you like a lager, Lord Lerial?”
“Not at the moment.”
“You are indeed determined to remain on serious matters, then. Am I suspected of some nefarious deed? Some rancid and revolting plot?”
“Suspected?” rejoins Lerial. “I wouldn’t say that.” Involved or implicated, rather. “But I must say that I hadn’t expected you to greet me so cheerfully. Especially after so many Heldyans were able to use the pier at your tileworks to land and begin their attack on Swartheld.”
“I cannot be held responsible for where Duke Khesyn landed his armsmen in this reprehensible attack on Afrit. I have suffered great damage, and that tileworks may well be ruined for any future use.”
At those words, Lerial realizes that, in all probability, Maesoryk lost little from the damage to the tileworks, but he presses on. “Certainly, if that use was contrary to your wishes, it would seem strange that you never let either the duke or arms-commander know that your tileworks had been occupied by the Heldyans.”
“How could I let the duke know when I myself did not know until after the fact?” The merchanter shakes his head. “By the time I knew, the duke was dead, and the arms-commander injured and reported likely to die, and many of the senior officers were also dead.”
Rather interesting, since those of us in the midst of the fighting didn’t even know that until later.
“So what did you do then?”
“I dispatched a messenger to Subcommander Klassyn, thinking he was the most senior officer left. The messenger told me he gave it to Subcommander Dhresyl, because he was in charge.”
“Dhresyl never received such a message.”
“I’d venture to say that he did,” returns Maesoryk. “He never did care for us, not after he tried to cheat us on tiles we supplied for the Harbor Post several years ago.”
Surprisingly, that statement carries a heavy sense of order. But then, that doesn’t change anything, really. “Do you have your family here often?” asks Lerial, sensing there is little point in continuing the charade.