By the second glass of the afternoon on oneday, it is more than clear to Lerial that they are on the southern outskirts of Swartheld. Not only has the river widened, but there is a large expanse of water to the north, suggesting the mouth of the river and the harbor beyond. In addition, there are almost no open lands or fields of any size between hamlets bordering the river. Less than a kay ahead, on a short point extending out into the river, or perhaps the point is at the edge of where harbor and river meet, Lerial sees a run-down stone building, almost an abandoned fort or the like.
“Is that an old fort?” He points.
“Very old. It was a river patrol station, because it’s where the river enters the bay, but there are so many mudbars there now that it was abandoned well before my grandsire was born. Beyond that is the bay, and the harbor proper is well to the northwest. That’s where the water is deeper.”
As they ride across the base of the point, Lerial studies the bay. Beyond the point the edge of the harbor angles west-northwest, although he can see that some distance ahead, it appears to turn back toward the north. After riding another half kay or so, Lerial spies a three-story structure on the left side of the river road, opposite a large stone pier, with a row of warehouses farther north. The road now runs parallel to the bay, with a gentle slope of some fifty yards between the east shoulder and water’s edge. Just a handful of yards ahead on the west side of the road are small dwellings, little more than huts, with only a few yards of open ground between them.
“Is this part of Swartheld?” he asks Rhamuel.
“How can it not be? There’s never been an official border. As the city has grown to include outlying hamlets, those hamlets have just become known as districts of the city.”
“How many people are there in Swartheld?”
“Years ago there were well over fifty thousand. Now, with all the outlying districts, who knows? There could be over a hundred thousand. I’ve suggested to the duke an enumeration might be helpful, especially if the enumeration listed the occupation of the residents.”
“You might find a few more crafters and factors who owe tariffs … perhaps?”
“That would be useful, I’d think,” replies Rhamuel. “But the duke keeps his own counsel on such matters.”
“I can imagine that more than a few merchanters and factors are willing to advise him on the matter … especially on how all of Afrit benefits from lower tariffs.” Or other branches of merchanters that are not known.
“Do I hear a slight note of cynicism, Lord Lerial?”
“Most likely more than a slight note.”
“Why might that be?” Rhamuel smiles.
“Too often I’ve overheard protestation of factors and traders clad in fine cloth how the slightest increase in tariffs will render them poverty-struck. When the quality of their garments is noted, they then declare that they will not be able to keep all those who work for them.”
“With the implication that tariffs will fall on the poorest, of course,” adds Rhamuel. “Unhappily, that is often true. Rather than pay higher tariffs from their profits, they will discharge some poor teamster’s assistant and then complain about those very same tariffs that help maintain the harbors and canals and roads that benefit them more than anyone.”
“What does the duke say about that?”
“Very little. Nor can I to him. And not often.”
Rhamuel’s words are another indication to Lerial that the arms-commander treads a narrow path in dealing with his brother and the influence of the wealthy merchanters of Swartheld … and possibly even the duke’s consort.
Although the structures ahead look imposing, Lerial finds those immediately nearer him on the west side of the river road cramped-looking and mean. There are small wooden docks set intermittently at the edge of the water, often amid the straggly reeds, with barely enough space for a boat to reach open water, and bare clay depressions in the slope down to the river, suggesting that small boats are regularly dragged down or hauled up from the water.
The cots soon give way to small shops. One is even boarded up and looks to have been unused for seasons, if not years. After riding another few hundred yards, Lerial sees warehouses and factorages, solid and cared-for, but worn and certainly not new. The stone river piers are older than they had looked from a distance, with weathered bollards, although the larger stone factorage or warehouse opposite them looks to have been recently built, perhaps within the year.