Foost turned his head towards young Pagward and rolled his eyes: “Seven I make that!”

Pagward put on a quizzical look as he said: “Hmmmm. Really? I must have missed one.”

This conversation, conducted as an aside, did nothing for the red and purple complexion of the man who had just asked Foost a question. A question to which he had yet to receive a reply.

Foost turned his head once more and pointedly examined the man from his shoes up to the top of his head before replying; “I do not know WHO you are but I do know WHAT you are.”

The man spluttered in indignation but Foost gave him no respite. “You are a self-centred blowhard; a braggart and a bully with potentially grave hearing problems. Which part of ‘The Margrave is not to be disturbed at this moment’ did you fail to understand?”

“Well I have never been spoken …”

“Then perhaps you should have been!” he interrupted swiftly. “You are the 7th …” he sneered the next word “… person … to attempt to bluster their way in this forenoon. You may go and sit with those that remain in that room over there which has been designated as a hospitality room; a room in which those like you without an appointment can wait, or you may return whence you came. I would add that on occasion pel is served there, but not on demand.”

“I shall see you are punished for …”

Foost again interrupted the tirade by simply turning once more to Pagward and saying: “Four.”

The man made a fist and drew it back but his face paled as the fist was caught from behind and a sword appeared at his neck. The guard growled: “I heard the Master tell you that the Margrave is not to be disturbed – and I heard that he did so three times. My duty requires me to protect all those in His Grace’s employ.” He smiled grimly and indeed menacingly. “It is up to me how I interpret the word ‘protect’. You now have an additional choice – the hospitality room, home, or a visit to, or perhaps from, a healer. I would prefer not to have to continue my day with a smiting, but the choice is entirely yours.”

The man’s belligerence was swift to drain away and finally the guard released the fist. The man huffed and puffed, twitched his clothing and strode over to the head of the stairs going down to the ground floor, muttering veiled threats which no-one could actually understand.

A peace of sorts descended on the ante-chamber. There was a low murmur from the three voices in the hospitality room, an occasional cough or throat clearing from one or other of the guards, a few sniffs and the like.

After nearly a quarter bell of this, a young uniformed man appeared at the top of the flight of stairs that came up from the large entrance hall below. The youth came directly across to Foost. He whispered something into Foost’s ear, saluted briefly and turned on his heel before swiftly making for the stairs to go back down. A moment or two later, a set of footfalls could be heard ascending those open stairs accompanied by a low murmur of voices.

Two quite scruffy-looking individuals appeared in the hallway and looked around. Foost indicated to them which door they should approach and said simply: “Vessel-master Volod?”

A swift nod was the simple reply and Foost opened the door to the Margrave’s offices. The deep bass tones of the leader’s voice emerged but not loud enough for anyone outside to make out the actual words. The voice shut off abruptly and then continued, this time distinctly: “If that isn’t Volod, heads will roll!”

“It is he, Your Grace,” called Foost as he closed the door behind the two newcomers.

Which event caused a miniature eruption of annoyed voices from the waiting room, the three men all talking at the same time.

“How come they get in? I am more important than them!”
“I was here first. I should be in there.”
“But my business is of the utmost urgency!”

Pagward walked over to the doorway to their room and held up a hand. He was surprised (but took care not to show that) when he was granted immediate silence.

“I may be young, and I may be learning my way, but there is one thing I fail to understand. Mayhap you can explain it to me?”

The three inmates all looked at him expectantly.

“Whence comes your arrogance? Who are you, any one of you, to try to determine the Margrave’s priorities and indeed his schedule? Do you know all the myriad of details that he must deal with? His time limits for certain results? No, you do not! And yet you have decided that you are the ones to choose who goes into see him. I shall make sure that he knows of this just as soon as I – who you may remember actually works directly for him – am allowed in there. I can assure you that he will not be amused and I dare say you shall have to toil even harder to persuade him to your point of view.”

Pagward watched the three carefully and silently remarked the single one of them that began to look a little ashamed.

… … …

“Very well, Vessel-master Volod.” he gave a wry little grin and an actual small laugh as he continued: “Strictly speaking, I suppose you could be called a Craft-master which might make some in our Guilds uncomfortable! You are hereby appointed the State’s Vessel’s Captain. We shall depart in just a little under a month’s time. We shall need to have a vessel suitable for a rapid passage and also a very clear and identifiable large standard that we might pass unhindered through what is, after all, still a war zone.”

“And the size of your vessel, Your Grace? How many people shall we be transporting?”

“Ah! I had not fully thought of that, I had merely got as far as thinking that a boat would be required. What sort of boat would have to be the choice of whoever I appointed as State Captain.”

He passed then into a deeply pensive mode, from which he emerged even as he started speaking again, with several pauses as he went along: “Allow me please to work backwards! I shall calculate first from those I shall require in Palarand.

“There shall be myself, of course, and, if I am interpreting all these signals and messages correctly, …” he gestured at a piled-up table with the hugest mound of parchments the Craftmaster had ever seen, “… I shall require yourself and two senior military officers to evaluate most of what appears to be becoming available. So that makes four.

“Then I really should have an honour guard of … let’s say eight men in all. Totals twelve.

“But the Palace in Palarand is not on the river, so I shall require to hire frayen and saddles and a carriage and driver in which to arrive which shall mean that your … let’s call it the ‘State Barge’ for the moment … shall need to remain at some riverport or other. This in turn will require at least four more guards for that - to look after the vessel, that is, along with your crew members. So that’s sixteen. Plus your crew. How many would that be, State Captain?”

Volod rapidly calculated: “We would need a cook - who could actually, now I think on it, also double as a quartermaster - and then we would also need a general steward to keep things stowed tidily and to arrange other matters whilst I am doing other things, like keeping us afloat!” He grinned then, an engaging grin that entirely altered his face. “Plus at least three crew to keep us moving along, Lagref …” he indicated his companion, “… shall be my ‘number two’ and I shall need two others for rope handling and looking out and so on and then an additional quartet to help with the rowing, probably used more on the way back, although I expect the hard rowing to be only on a few occasions since – but I must stress that this is in general – the wind normally blows the right way for us to be driven upstream. But first we have to get downstream. I would assume that some of your guard cadre could assist with rowing should it become necessary?”

The Margrave nodded his assent even as he said: “Assuming they are not needed for any fighting at the time, then they shall of course be available for your use.”

Volod continued somewhat musingly: “If we are in no hurry for the return, then that wind will be our greatest boon.” He stopped then, obviously going over in his mind what he had just said. His eyes suddenly flew open again. “Oh, and we shall need a pilot. I deem I shall have sufficient knowledge to get us to, and maybe just past, Yod, but after that my abilities as a pilot shall be negligible.”

He counted rapidly on his fingers. “So, without me, since I am already included in your total, that’s another ten. Lagref, two crew, four oarsmen, cook, steward and a pilot.”

“Reasonable, it would appear. So we would need accommodation for twenty-six bodies then. So the vessel must be large enough for all those, plus all the baggages and the supplies. And the arms. Can you think of aught else?”

“Not right at this moment, Your Grace.”

“Then let us make plans for say thirty in all, lest we must accommodate guests for part of or all of the way – although I confess I can at this moment not conceive of any such circumstances that might occur. I would suggest that the majority of us shall sleep ashore on most of the nights; the river still has such riverports aplenty, I am led to believe, despite the ongoing war?”

“With your standards flying, I am sure we would be welcomed in most places, Your Grace,” he then added a little cynically, “but probably at a jumped up price!”

The Margrave wryly grinned in acknowledgement. “Now the question arises as to the type of vessel. I must leave that up to you to decide, Captain. I should imagine that a normal barge would be too solid, too cumbersome?”

“And yet ’twould provide far more comfort, Your Grace.” He thought briefly before concluding: “So be it, Your Grace. I will get started immediately this afternoon. After all, a month is a VERY tight schedule for all that must be done. Lagref here can start hunting out the crewmen for the voyage, since we shall only want the very best for your service, while I search for a suitable vessel and the team we shall require to refit it.” Almost to himself, and obviously once again deep in thought, he murmured: “’Tis a shame that no Yussuf vessel is available at the moment. They apparently are all downriver, if not under the river’s surface.”

“Yussuf vessel?” asked Simbran which brought Volod back to the present with a start. “You mean Yussuf with the boathouse just downriver at Dymyr’s Lagoon?”

“Just so - the shipping and trading man, Your Grace. You may recall that probably he was, before the war, the foremost name in Faralmark’s long tradition of shipping and trading, although he has always tried to humbly keep himself in the background. He designed some special craft, very similar to a barge but faster and more nimble. He had them built downriver, in Smordan I seem to remember, where they used a better wood than he could obtain here. So successful were these vessels that many of us have attempted to copy them. They make the loading and unloading so much more efficient as well as the handling.” He paused then, a solemn look once more descending on his features. “But I am led to understand that they have all disappeared since the war began, like so many other of our vessels – and our crews!” He added the last phrase somewhat bitterly. “One of those, I deem, would have been almost perfect for this forthcoming voyage. Ruefully, I have not the time to get one of those built!”

… … …

A similar scene with Foost and Pagward repeated itself the next time Volod visited the Margrave’s Fortress. He was waved in without delay, much to the chagrin of those waiting and hoping to see the ruler.

“Thank you, Captain. You have done well. As you can see …” he waved an arm at the overflowing table the Margrave used as a message repository “… the messages and plans and decisions I must make are relentless, so I regret I shall not have time to visit the ship, not even for the naming ceremony. We MUST however depart in a week’s time. If there is any change to that, I shall hasten a message to your good self.”

… … …

“I hereby name this vessel the ’Spirit of Bibek’.”

A chorus of ‘Heard and Witnessed’s almost drowned out the noise of the ceremonial and simultaneous smashing of the three pottery wine mugs - one at the stern, on the top of the rudder post, one at the foot of one of the masts and one on the bowpost that the sailors amongst them called ‘the stem’.

Master Volod turned to the man who had done the naming: “Thank you, Harbourmaster. It was kind of you to stand in for the Margrave at almost the last moment but he regrets he has far too much to do in the limited time he has available.”

“Quite understandable, Volod, if what I have just this morning heard is true. It would appear that the Yodans have yesterday fled from Upper Fanir, all except a small part of their army which was deployed to protect any incursions from the Upper Fanir uplands. Part of our forces have been diverted to make sure these last are held where they are, whilst the majority have hastened after the retreating Yodans to the choke point that marks the beginning of Lower Fanir.”

“That is so, I deem. We must now rush this good vessel down to Faralan to pick up some of the senior soldiery that have marched so swiftly down there.”

“And then onto Palarand, I hear?”

“Indeed so. Hence the so-early start this morn. I am to take the Spirit down to Dymyr’s Lagoon – the one where the three boathouses are – to there load the men and all the stuff that the Margrave shall need on this … procession, I suppose. Those stores are being delivered there now even as we speak, and it is not yet … oh, I lie … it is now exactly the first bell of the day.”

“You have chosen well, I deem. A ‘Houario’ boat seems to be the right combination of size, speed, manoeuvrability and sturdiness.”

Volod started at the Harbourmaster’s accurate use of the name of the type of vessel, a name that came down from the days of the Habaran Empire. He smiled widely as he said in reply: “I have not heard that correct term for many a moon! Nowadays the name has been corrupted by the less well educated to be a Hooray Boat.”

“I shall give you an ‘Hooray’ as well as priority then when you are ready to leave, to ensure the minimum of delay.”

“Grateful, Harbourmaster. Most grateful.”

… … …

“Place that there, and the other in an equivalent position on the other side of the barge. We must keep things balanced. That’s why we created the so-called ‘cabin’ layout that we have.” Namba ran his experienced eye over the working ‘labourers’.

But after barely three breaths, all activity ceased as the men saluted and bowed to the Margrave who had now stepped onto the boat unannounced. He acknowledged them with a wave of the hand and then turned to Captain Volod: “Good freshness, Captain. Allow me to introduce my guards. Leading them is Twick Joot …” the Margrave pointed to the young file leader, “… and behind him, from left to right we have Blades Bokes, Heen and Wennes. We will be picking up more soldiery when we arrive in Faralan.”

All the men acknowledged each other as the Margrave turned back to Volod: “Talking of which … you have done well this morn. But, as we know, time is pressing. Shall we still have time to load all that …” he used an arm to indicate the great pile of boxes and crates that still littered the jetty “… and reach Faralan tomorrow evening?”

“’Twill be quite tight, Your Grace. But, if you give permission to your four soldiers here to row with us when it becomes necessary, I deem we shall make it. Other vessels may curse us as we race down the centre of the current, but with the stream and the broad sails, as well as the rowing, we should progress most swiftly.”

“How may I be of assistance?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do such menial tasks, Your Gr…”

“Nonsense man. Speed is of the essence. Now, let me carry that crate there. Where shall I place it?”

Captain Volod was about to reply when a fresh thought struck him. “Er … If it pleases you, Your Grace?”

“You have a question, Volod?”

“When we reach Faralan. Shall you require that any of we of the crew shall accompany you? Or shall just you and your Blades be away from the Spirit for a while?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I expect to be in one or more quite intense meetings with whoever is in authority there nowadays, so I doubt any of your crewmen will be dragged ashore.”

“In that case, Your Grace, then I believe we may simply load everything on the jetty onto the upper deck here of our boat, and we can use the time of an evening while we are moored wherever we shall be to unpack and stow more accurately. Namba here is our on-board ‘housemaster’ and shall ensure the load is coarsely sorted even as we toil here. Ask him for the destination of any crate!”

“A splendid thought, Captain. Let’s do that. So for now, we just need to clear the jetty.” So saying, the Margrave stripped off his doublet, handed it to Namba, and leapt easily back onto the jetty to pick up a waiting crate.

“Hold!” commanded the ship’s captain who quickly clapped his hands to gain attention from everyone. He wished to make what he considered to be a very important point. “But that does not mean we can just toss those burdens anywhere and anyhow. We need foodstuffs near the galley, for example, and we need to ensure the boat stays reasonably level, we cannot have everything simply strewn along one side or at one end, that would make the vessel list or pitch uncomfortably. We shall all carry what we can, but Namba here shall direct us as to the placement.

“Let us commence, if it pleases Your Grace, with your personal chests and stow them here aft in what shall be your cabin. Namba can run an eye over the piles of the other stuff still ashore so he can do a rough sort in his mind.”

“Captain?” asked Namba.

“Yes, Namba?”

“I daresay that I can also make a start stowing things away even as we are underway. The rowers shall be on the deck beneath us right now and the cabins are all up here – admittedly maybe not high enough for us all to stand upright in – but this area will not require too many men to be about their business as we travel. This will also enable me to list anything I think we shall need that has been overlooked somehow. Such replenishments can be made in Faralan, I would assume.”

“Excellent thinking. Right then, let’s make a start moving that great pile from the shore.”

“As you desire, Captain,” said Simbran as he turned to his small cadre of Blades. “Come men, we are safe enough here. One of you keep a watch, the rest lay down your arms and let’s get sweaty. Rotate the watchkeeper as you see fit.”

And so they swiftly reduced the piles of crates. As they did so, it became apparent that Namba was an intelligent ‘housemaster’ who would most likely take reliable responsibility for the smooth running of all non-nautical matters. Both the Margrave and the Captain were pleased and swiftly became quite certain that most things in what was now Namba’s domain would go smoothly.

The four guards, three of them at any one time, and the half dozen or so crewmen worked alongside the two leaders - and all of them worked up a thirst with the manual labour, so much so that the Margrave told Namba to organise a dockworker nearby for a large bucket of cooled and watered wine to be delivered, having seen how things were going a good half bell before they finished. This offering was soon gratefully swilled down the parched throats of all the men even as the Captain was issuing orders to prepare for their departure. The upper deck was still covered with loose piles of boxes awaiting final stowage but at least the piles were organised!

… … …

“There! There will do!” announced Volod as he steered the Hooray Boat towards a gently shelving, more shallow spot on the Pakmal bank. A stand of trees on the upriver side would allow a rope to be tied securely around one or more, which would later aid them in refloating when they wished to get themselves off the river bed. Scars on the boles were evidence of the frequency with which others had performed this operation.

“Have YOU used this bay before, Volod?” asked Simbran.

“Aye, Your Grace. Quite often, but never with a vessel quite as large as this! Nor one with quite so deep a keel. We must experiment a little Your Grace and trust the Maker has our best interests at hand.

“Over there, behind those few kaskh bushes, is a suitable pool for bathing, which I suggest we all do before we start out on the final three-quarters of a bell of our journey. If you look over there, you can make out the buildings of Faralan itself, so we need merely to cross the river and slowly approach the port. You did say that you had sent word of our arrival, Your Grace?”

“I did indeed. So they shall be expecting us and hopefully have a berth available already.”

The Captain expertly guided the boat to the shore where the crewmen made it secure. Once satisfied, Volod gave permission for half the men to scramble down and go into the semi-private bathing pool to wash the sweat and grime off, sending Lagref along with them so there was a responsible officer on the deck when he himself went to tidy up. The Margrave also went along with the first batch but found that the men were too embarrassed for him to be naked with them, so he simply climbed out and let them relax whilst he stood off some ten or so strides back towards the boat, wrapped in a large drying cloth.

As he stood there, one of his guards was sent from the boat to discover what the problem was. “No real problem, Bokes, it’s just that the others felt awkward with a naked ruler in the same pool as they. I shall attend here until they are finished, wash myself alone and then simply return to the barge wrapped as I am now.”

“Your Grace!” the shocked armsman replied. “We cannot let you be alone and out of our sight. I implore you to have at least one of us Blades or Twick Joot nearby at all times, at the very least in eyeshot.”

The Margrave sighed heavily. “Very well, Blade. So shall it be. You can await here with me until the others are done and then watch as I do my ablutions. When I am finished, you yourself can freshen up. By which time, I expect the second half of the men to have caught up with you. I can then return to the Spirit and dress in more formal uniform.”

Bokes turned and made a complicated signal with his arms, letting those on the boat know that all was in order.

“So what did you think of our ride down here, yesterday and today?” asked Simbran to fill the time as they waited.

“Errrmmm, Your Grace …”

“No!” interrupted the Margrave. “Don’t let my rank tie your tongue. I am also a man, and we may freely converse here as we stand alone, can we not?”

Blade Bokes coloured but realised that his ruler spoke the truth. “Your Grace, I must confess I found it exhilarating, even though my heart was in my mouth a couple of times. The overnight on that unnamed little island was more comfortable than I had expected. Then this morning, when that funny barge decided to turn so cumbersomely across our bows with no warning, I was sure we would all be swimming shortly!”

“Yes, that was indeed a close call! As was it when that Pakmali galley attempted, so it seemed, to flag us down and stop us. Captain Volod handled the Spirit magnificently then.”

And so they chatted on for the next while, until Twick Joot appeared, clean and dry, and demanded to know why Blade Bokes was standing here.

… … …

“Your Grace, be welcome here in Upper Fanir! I am Steward Berm and this is my wife Eginet. The large man there is my brother Wallis, he shall arrange for your baggages to be transported to the Count’s Mansion. Between us, we look after what was Count Herik’s Mansion but which has now passed on to his son Count Darkwin. Count Darkwin himself wanted to be here, but after his war injuries, bright sunlight such as we have here this evening troubles him, and he therefore sends his apologies.

“You know of course Count Olva and Countess Lagavet from their time spent in your own fair land. The Count and Countess are acting as mentors to Count Darkwin as he regathers his strength.

“Most of these other men are what remains of any senior military ranks here in Upper Fanir, and I deem we shall be here half the night if I am to name each and everyone standing here about to greet you. More shall be revealed at the dinner table this e’en. The hand of men over there in blue work tunics next to their carts report to Wallis and are here to carry your baggages to the Count’s Mansion where you all can be accommodated tonight.

“I see you have four of your armsmen with you. Captain of the Field Woltass here has also brought down an honour squad of ten men – Blades I believe you term them. I would suggest that your vessel is guarded by a half dozen of those fourteen Blades through the night. We are no longer at war but there are certain dissatisfied factions with the potential to cause problems. And there is still a degree of poverty around. After all, only a few days ago we were still suffering under the harsh rule of the Yodan invaders. A positive is the fact that you may be more selective as to which baggage we should carry up to the Mansion, the guard being in place meaning that some could be left safely on board.

“Oh, and not knowing your precise time of arrival nor the precise number of personnel involved, we have arranged an easily prepared dinner which, of necessity, is mostly of cold meats. There shall be soups to warm you, but we regret not being able to honour you with a repast worthy of a state dinner. We shall serve such a meal half a bell or so after our return, if that suits you?”

“Steward Berm, I thank you for the charming and widespread …” his eyes flickered over the thirty or so men and women who had gathered there for him “… welcome. I shall follow your suggestions and request Woltass to assign the guards we shall require for watching over the ‘Spirit of Bibek’.” He cast a glance at Woltass who saluted and nodded. “And we shall be grateful for anything to eat and drink after a hard day’s journeying. Please do not feel embarrassed by your offerings.”

He turned then to the others, his surprisingly deep baritone voice taking on a louder tone so that those at the back might hear him without difficulty: “As for the rest of you, I acknowledge your presence, I thank you for honouring us so and I look forward to meeting you each more formally a little later.”

A general murmur of agreement was returned from the crowd even as Woltass instructed the Twick he had brought down with him to select the other five members of the overnight guard squad.

“Oh, one other thing! Steward Berm, would there be room in this Mansion for our crew too? We have five permanent members and four hired oarsmen as well as the Captain whom I shall require to be with me.”

Berm nodded agreeably and confirmed that there was sufficient room for everyone. He turned and led the way up the pathway/road to the Mansion. Within two hands of moments, the entirety of the crowd, that is all the arrivals and their chests as well as the somewhat swollen welcoming committee, had managed to gain the protection of the stout and sturdy walls of the Mansion.

The Steward ushered the Margrave before him into the capacious entrance hall where the Margrave’s attention was immediately drawn to a small group of women, one of which detached herself and approached him, dropping into a very pretty curtsey as she got to him. She was wearing an expensive gown and extremely tasteful jewellery.

“Your Grace, I am Housemistress Orlet …” the Margrave struggled to contain his surprise over the fact that so apparently young a girl had such a high rank in the household and was so very well dressed. “We are but recently, very recently, delivered from our durance vile and are still finding our feet and establishing routines and the like. I regret that my staff have, at this moment in time, very few resources. We are making the best we can with what we do have.

“Now, I see you have no women in your entourage, so deem that you men might be readied a little quicker than might otherwise be. I have assigned Wallis to be your manservant for the duration of your stay. After a long day, I am sure we shall all enjoy the meal we have prepared … and with your permission, I shall instruct my staff now to start heating the soups. ’Tis just after the half bell now, so may I say we shall dine at the next full bell?”

Again, the Margrave used all his tact to prevent any surprise crossing his face or entering his voice. This young woman had an easy air of command about her that totally belied her apparent age. But her station as a servant in this establishment did not gel well in his mind with the way she was clad, her choice of words and her easy authority.

“Mistress Orlet, I thank you for your forethoughts and deem that your suggestions are both sensible and should indeed be acted upon. Captain of the Field Woltass there suggests I should inspect my forces that are barracked here, and then I shall merely have to change a doublet, so I doubt that even I could spin all that out to more than a half bell.” He smiled at the girl who smiled charmingly back at him before she coloured slightly and dropped her eyes demurely.

Once more the Margrave had an internal fight – he studiously avoided being obvious whilst he was inspecting the girl who had a good figure that her clothes subtly emphasised; a shapely feminine rear, a quite narrow waist, longish legs and a generous bosom. But something in the back of his mind wanted to understand the apparent dichotomy between her age and her air of command.

And there was also something else ... but he knew not what.

After being shown to his room – VERY well appointed, he approved – he followed his senior Captain of the Field down to the barrack quarters where he was again approving of the accommodation provided for his troops.

… … …

Simbran took care to speak, however briefly, to each of the people seated around the huge table. Again he hid his surprise when the Housemistress was one of those. Not only that, she had not been relegated to one end of the table or another, but was afforded a space that would normally be for those more exalted. He was aware that the back of his brain was worrying and fretting at these conundra, but neither his face nor his tone betrayed any of this.

As a result of his insistence upon including all those present, the topics covered at first were mostly generalities, but he did gain one small answer that started to ease his mind until he thought far deeper about it; whereupon, it seemed to him, more questions suddenly hit him like a flood.

Having been relieved of the discomfort of a harsh Yodan rule only a few days prior, then it was suddenly apparent that the ladies gathered here had not for some time been able to dress in their finery. They acknowledged that the clothes most of them wore had been hastily altered to provide the women with some finery in his honour, and that young Mistress Chara as well as her obvious friend Mistress Orlet had been clad in the murdered Countess Silet’s no-longer required formal gowns.

Another little clue came when it was revealed that Orlet was also a niece of Steward Berm’s and Chara was his daughter.

But why should these two be granted the benefit of fine silks and satins? And expensive jewellery, as opposed to say Eginet? And the pride with which Orlet wore that very becoming gown was somehow more than just a feminine awareness of how good she looked. And, Simbran had to acknowledge, she did look very good indeed. Almost regal, came a further thought.

That surprised him actually, a surprise in and of his own mind. Regal was the right word and yet was at the same time shocking to him that he had thought it.

… … …

The meal was over and all were ready for some serious discussions. Count Darkwin had earlier sent his apologies once again, complaining of a most dreadful headache. He promised, however, to meet his newly arrived guest first thing in the morning.

Simbran let his eyes roam around the room, mentally assessing what he now knew of the persons behind the faces. His eyes passed over the efficient Housemistress and he must have allowed a small frown to appear on his face.

“Something is amiss, Your Grace?”

“Not at all Steward. Mistress Orlet’s staff have done us considerable honour in providing such a fine repast and such delicious wines.” He paused as the assembled diners all banged on the table in agreement. “I frowned merely because I find this arrangement of personnel to be unique in my experience. Your Housemistress seems very attentive for someone so young and of such a rank. This is for me unusual behaviour as compared to other houses and mansions and palaces I have visited.”

Everyone present pretended not to notice Orlet’s face aflame.

“Your Grace, we desire to run an efficient establishment here and to that end we have determined that Mistress Orlet shall attend as many of our meetings as possible, that she may learn what might be expected of the household in the future.”

The explanation seemed to the Margrave to be a little contrived somehow. Simbran flicked his eyes sideways towards Olva who, with a small fleeting frown and the slightest of nods, attempted to reassure the Margrave.

Smoothly the visitor returned his attention to Berm. “Ah, Steward! A novel way of training that appears to have much merit. I shall consider that on my onward journey down to Palarand. Perchance, I could be permitted to return here to see how successful it has been once I make my way home?”

“Your Grace would, as always, be most welcome!”

Discussions then turned to the Faralmark forces in Upper Fanir and eventually the Margrave turned to his senior officer: “Woltass!”

“Your Grace?”

“I should like you to accompany me down to King Robanar’s lands. I hear rumours, but very few facts, of many new changes there, which we shall have need to evaluate. I would fain have your advice. And Senior Captain Hannar also has valuable merits. The two of you shall travel with me, at first aboard ship although we shall need to hire a carriage when we reach Palarand. I deem we shall have a guard with us of eight men when we arrive at Robanar’s palace, so shall detach four men to guard our ship when we leave it. The ship’s Captain can also travel on with us, but his men shall remain with the Spirit.

“Thus select a deputy to take charge of the Faralmark forces here in Fanir, find some reliable guardsmen for our trip, include the ones I brought here in your pool from which to select, and meet me back at the ship a bell after dawn with the men you have chosen. One of ‘my’ four is a Twick who seems efficient, so much so that mayhap we would have no requirement for a Platen; you did say earlier that junior officers were currently in short supply here.”

“Your Grace!” said the man as he straightened his back and saluted before spinning on his heel and marching out, Orlet holding the door for him as he went.

Discussions on various topics continued through the rest of the evening. Once Simbran frowned ever so slightly when he saw Berm glance at Orlet and get a confirmatory nod back from the girl. This was on a topic that surely was not within a housekeeper’s purview. But no-one else in the room would have caught his reaction and he remained outwardly as imperturbable as always.

… … …

“And where IS Mistress Orlet, Mistress Chara?”

Chara coloured slightly but answered swiftly and surely: “She has some matters of a female nature to deal with so early this morn.” She then clapped her hand across her mouth and coloured even more.

“Excuse me for embarrassing you. My impressions last night were that the two of you are very close friends. I was surprised that the Housemistress had not turned up to escort me to Count Darkwin but had sent you to do so in her place. I had not anticipated that my feeble attempts at light conversation as we make our way to the Count would be of a more … intimate nature than I intended.”

“Your Grace, it is I who must apologise. Mayhap I should have concocted some story rather than just blurt out the truth as I did. But alas my brain is just a feeble woman’s and I could not conjure a sufficiently intricate story so swiftly. And you have been so nice and considerate with us, I forgot for a heartbeat that you were not a part of our family.”

“I find myself inordinately pleased that you could consider it so. But come, Mistress. Let’s put this behind us. Tell me what you can then of living under the yoke of Yod.”

“There was one patrolman,” she started bitterly, “we all particularly disliked, not simply because it was he who had murdered Count Herik and Countess Silet, but because he was generally a most unpleasant man. Several of the girls around here were assaulted and their fathers could do nothing about it. The man himself had a dreadful way of undressing you as he stared at you, practically drooling.”

“Oh! How dreadful. I suppose you must have been happy when the Yodans left so swiftly?”

Chara coloured and looked uncomfortable. Somehow, Simbran knew she was lying to a certain extent when she said; “Oh yes, Your Grace. That was a happy day indeed.” And yet there could be no denying that the last sentence brought her both great joy and yet also great sadness.

“Curious!” he thought and then opened his mouth to try to ascertain a little more. He had no time however to take that conversational thread any further as they had by then arrived at Darkwin’s door.

Somewhat hurriedly, Chara knocked perfunctorily and ushered the Margrave in, saying to the Margrave: “Someone else will await you, Your Grace, when you come out, and shall bring you to the breakfast room.”

Chara then performed the introductions and scuttled out of the darkened room almost without stopping.

“Very curious!” thought the Margrave briefly before concentrating upon his latest surroundings. He looked around and saw that the room was darkened to a far greater extent than he had anticipated. The figure of the Count was sitting hunched in a well-padded chair off in one corner, wrapped in what appeared to be several blankets. Behind the chair rather than beside it, a single candle was alight, whilst two other corners had flickering flames on long handles. In a wider part of the room, better illuminated, Count Olva raised a hand in greeting.

Simbran, as politeness dictated, addressed himself first to the beshadowed invalid: “Good freshness, Milord Darkwin. And Milord Olva.” he added as he swung his head around to the second Count.

Darkwin replied, in a voice that somehow sounded rusty, as if its use had been recently very infrequent: “Your Grace, so kind of you to come and visit. I am so sorry for the lack of hospitality on my part, but that wretched Yodan who killed my parents, slammed both my head and my shoulder. I am improving but it all seems so very slow, not like the active life I had before all this.”

“Milord, I am grateful that you have found the time and strength for me. I will keep this visit to pleasantries if you desire, but there are some weighty state matters that mayhap we should discuss. I will, with your permission and if you so desire, delay these until my return, for I am underway on a river trip down to Palarand. I could call back in here on my journey home and provide details of those matters I discover whilst down there with King Robanar? Or we might profitably spend a little while now discussing what I may be able to do for you whilst I am down there. I shall be meeting most of the leaders of the lower Sirrel countries.”

“Ah! I understand. Hmmm, I should have liked to have a little longer to think on these matters and to discuss them with my advisors.” Olva and Darkwin exchanged looks. “So mayhap, we could indeed await your detailed report upon your return. My country has been gravely wounded by the invaders, and I must first think of how we are going to rebuild and regain strength – just as I must do myself.”

“A most sensible reaction, Milord. Should I discuss anything in greater detail with Milord Olva before I depart this very morn?”

“I deem that maybe ’twould be a sensible thing to do, but only if you have time.”

“Yes, time is so very important these days, is it not?”

“When the Yodans were here, it seemed that time had slowed down and we all suffered as if in a durance most vile. But even those hard times came to an end, so I deem we have all learned far more about patience than ever we expected to. So mayhap, when you are with the others downvalley, you could ascertain just what they intend to do to prevent anything like these Yodan atrocities from ever reoccurring.”

… … ...

And so it came to pass that Simbran left Darkwin to his suffering shortly after that, and he and Olva had some discussions about the depths of various political matters and thoughts as to the progress of the war. Breakfast was scarcely noticed by the two as they continued their dialogue.

No more mention was made of the domestic arrangements in the Count’s Mansion and soon the passengers of the Spirit all gathered on the jetty next to the vessel. It came as a small surprise to Olva when Simbran had a quiet word with him just then.

“That housekeeper business intrigues me, Olva.”

The Count’s brain worked feverishly. He was oathbound not to reveal more of the Orlet story and yet he felt the Margrave might spend a while trying to get to the bottom of the matter. His long association with the Margrave meant that he knew the man exceeding well.

Olva made sure the Margrave saw him look carefully around before replying in a whisper: “Your Grace, the natural leader of Upper Fanir is now Count Darkwin. Several ambitious men might try to dispose of him, so his very whereabouts, indeed his very existence, has been kept in doubt. I assure you that Darkwin is in fact making some good decisions.”

“Yes, that was my impression when we met him earlier this morn, before we all broke our fasts – but I still understand not how the young Count, who according to Steward Berm may be shortly elevated to be a Duke, can make such decisions. How can he have knowledge of each of the sides of an argument?”

“Ah! Very good. You have picked up on that. Well, I can happily tell you that the Count is kept informed in great detail because every meeting of importance, every word spoken, reaches his ears via Mistress Orlet.”

Simbran’s eyes widened. “Ah!” he breathed. “Clever!”

Olva was left uncertain as to whether or not the Margrave had actually understood the full picture.