By seventh glass on fiveday morning, Lerial is once more riding beside Rhamuel on the river road, this time several kays north of Shaelt, under high gray clouds.
“How did you enjoy the dinner?” asks the arms-commander.
“The fare was excellent,” adds Lerial. This is doubtless true, given Rhamuel’s position and taste, but Lerial does not even remember much of anything but the taste of the lager, and the fact that the main dish was some form of beef wrapped in flaky pastry, similar to beef Fyrad, if with a creamy basil sauce, rather than a beef mushroom sauce.
“And the lager?”
“Yours is better,” replies Lerial with a smile.
“Thank you. And the company?”
“I learned a great deal about cordage, stonework, glassblowing, and, of course, countinghouses.” And about the power and influence of Aenian House. “I doubt the last was in the slightest accidental or coincidental. What else should I know about Fhastal, especially that which I’m not likely to find out from anyone but you?”
“First, if you’d indulge me, tell me your impressions of him.”
“Besides the fact that he’s powerful and dangerous? Or that he reveals nothing that he does not wish to? He mostly likely thinks out the implications of what he does much farther than almost anyone else. I doubt he forgets anything, but he mostly likely knows what grudges to forgive, and what never to forgive.”
“That’s a fair summary. He’s also consorted to Haesychya’s sister.”
Rhamuel’s response tells Lerial two things. First, that even more than he has anticipated the inner workings of everything in Swartheld are deeply connected. Second, that Rhamuel either knows almost everything that Lerial was told, or that he believes that Lerial knows more than he does, since Lerial had not known the name of Atroyan’s consort until Mesphaes mentioned it. Then, too, perhaps Emerya had told him, and he had forgotten. Even so, neither of the latter two possibilities is exactly encouraging. “And?”
“He’s skilled and powerful enough that he always acts within the law and customary practices.”
“Customary practices can provide great leeway,” Lerial ventures dryly.
“I should have said that he does not engage in any practice, however customary, that is against the law.”
“I suspect you wanted to see if I would remark upon that difference,” banters Lerial.
“It’s always interesting to hear how people respond to what is said, and whether they actually listen.” Rhamuel pauses, then adds, “Some hear what they want to. Some hear every word and then fail to understand. Some hear nothing.”
“And some hear every word and wonder if that is what the speaker meant.”
Rhamuel nods. “Or if that speaker said anything at all beyond mere words. At times, that is necessary.”
“Rather than uttering no words at all?”
“There are times when silence is regarded as either agreement or disagreement. At some of such times it is unwise to allow either assumption to prevail.”
“You didn’t want to leave Drusyn in Lubana, did you?”
“You didn’t post anyone to watch for riders leaving in the middle of the night while we were in Shaelt. Why not?” counters Rhamuel.
“After the dinner last night, and the size of Shaelt Post, I didn’t see any point in it.” Lerial turns to the arms-commander and waits. As he does, he realizes that there are circles under Rhamuel’s eyes. But the dinner ended early, and he retired immediately after we returned to the post. Did he remain awake … worrying?
“I felt Subcommander Drusyn and his battalions would serve better if they were positioned to defend Swartheld.”
“And so would the merchanters of Swartheld.”
“Naturally.”
They ride for another tenth of a glass before Lerial speaks again. “Would you tell me more about Haesychya? Besides the fact that she is either retiring, cautious, or shy, if not all three?”
“She is the daughter of Aenslem. Although you probably know this or soon would have learned it, he is the head of Aenian House. Aenian House owns the largest fleet of merchant vessels, both river and deepwater, in Hamor, and ports some of those vessels out of other lands, not only in Hamor, but in Candar, Austra, and Nordla.”
“You and your brother do not wish to be far from merchant power.”
“It’s not a matter of wishing, Lerial. Their tariffs support a considerable proportion of the Afritan Guard.”
“And with countinghouses and ships established elsewhere, they hold out the possibility of moving their operations elsewhere if the duke should pursue … policies or tariffs greatly to their dislike?”
“Surely, that doesn’t surprise you?”
“No. But some of that possibility has to be a bluff. Such a move, no matter how well planned, would entail near-ruinous costs.”