“Harbormaster,” Nashen Ol’Nashek said, giving the younger man a shallow bow, “you should know that his grace has ordered the harbor chained and closed until … well … I confess I am uncertain of the circumstances that will allow its reopening.”

  Jojen Ol’Talas looked ready to argue as he turned to Aefric. But then, so did the mayor. Galdiff, meanwhile, looked amused at their discomfort.

  “I’ll reopen it soon,” Aefric said, before any of the others could voice an objection. “When Ser Micham is continuing on his assigned task once more.”

  “But surely, your grace—” Mayor Vagran started, but Aefric silenced him with a wave.

  “I have verbal agreements to my rulings,” Aefric said. “Nothing more. And under the circumstances, I’ll see my orders enacted before I allow the harbor to reopen.”

  The mayor visibly swallowed his objections, and looked as though the words had given him indigestion.

  Aefric cocked an eyebrow.

  “All the more reason to see matters settled quickly,” Aefric said. “Would you not agree?”

  Holding his lips shut tight in a line, the mayor only bowed. His harbormaster / son looked even more furious, but at a signal from his father, bowed as well. If that quick, jagged movement could be called a “bow.”

  As they all made their way down the broad, tiled road toward the docks — on foot, at Aefric’s insistence, given the crowd — he asked the mayor about those prisoners.

  “Several of them were known to us already, your grace,” Mayor Vagran said, sounding more comfortable on this subject. “Wanted on charges of smuggling and piracy, mostly, but those are high crimes here in Ajenmoor.”

  “They are indeed,” Galdiff said happily, rubbing his palms together. “Including two known cronies of Nelazzi herself.”

  “He’s right,” Mayor Vagran conceded reluctantly. “Those taken today included both Captain Brusi and Gwawl.”

  Captain Brusi? Interesting. Apparently Mavash had held some information back while he was supposedly telling all…

  Galdiff actually started chuckling with pleasure.

  “Who is Gwawl?” Aefric asked the mayor.

  “Gwawl,” Mayor Vagran said with a sigh, “is a highly placed wizard in the service of Nelazzi. Your grace might’ve noted him as favoring green garb. Gwawl’s wanted for a list of crimes.” He shot Galdiff a dark look. “And the reward for his capture…”

  “Will, when added to the others — especially the slavers — be almost enough to make up for the loss of the Swift Wave,” Galdiff said, and bowed to Aefric again. “Thank you again, your grace. Rest assured that I and my ships will ever sail in your service.”

  Aefric nodded slowly. On the one hand, keeping Galdiff and his ships readily available had been the half the point of allowing him to keep the bounties and rewards.

  On the other, he looked far less chastened by the whole experience than Aefric liked.

  “So long as you remember…” Aefric said, letting his words trail off to see how Galdiff finished his thought.

  “Of course, your grace,” Galdiff said quickly. “I assure your grace that never again will I or mine impede those about business in his name. Why, I will even swear here and now to render all your grace’s future messengers and agents such service as I and mine can provide.”

  Galdiff was saying the right words, but the way he said them still made Aefric uncomfortable, so he acknowledged those words with a nod, but nothing more.

  “I take it,” Aefric said to the mayor, “that this Gwawl will provide information useful to finding and stopping Nelazzi?”

  “Oh, your grace,” the mayor said, frowning. “We have nowhere near the resources necessary for such an undertaking. Not unless your grace intends to grant us significant aid.”

  “What about the slavers?” Aefric said. “Tell me at least that you’re getting information that will help shatter this ring of slavers that dared operate on my lands.”

  “Well, your grace,” Mayor Vagran said slowly, “these things take time. If you were to rescind Duchess Arinda’s proscription against torture—”

  “I will not,” Aefric said.

  “Then, alas, getting such answers will not be swift, nor easy.”

  “Perhaps,” Aefric said, confident that the prisoners would provide something that would become useful, once Karbin returned.

  Which made Aefric wonder how his old friend and mentor was doing…

  Meanwhile, all about them, the late afternoon streets were mostly clear. At least, for the block or so nearest. People could be spotted watching from the safety of distance, or windows — especially on second and third floors — but no one tried to approach.

  So. It seemed that Aefric’s marching through the streets accompanied by a small force of knights and soldiers was causing some consternation.

  That was fine.

  Word would get around about why Aefric had arrived in force — especially once word spread about the soldiers on ships in the harbor — and that might make life easier for his future messengers and agents.

  “Although,” Mayor Vagran said, frowning in distaste, “on the subject of prisoners, I fear I must ask. By any chance did your grace recover a certain … pendant or amulet from Gwawl? He’s been complaining for want of it. Claims it was taken from him by a man with a staff.”

  “Yes,” Galdiff said quickly. “As property of a prisoner I am to receive credit for, by right of law and custom that item should be mine.”

  “I do have it,” Aefric said, though he’d forgotten all about that bronze pendant with its spark of magic until this very moment. “Though I intend to hold onto it.”

  “But your grace,” Galdiff said, greed in his voice, “by right of law and custom, that amulet should be mine.”

  “And it is your intention to assert that law and custom be followed in this matter?” Aefric asked.

  “Of course, your grace,” Galdiff said with a bow. “After all, without law and custom, we’re no better than borogs.”

  Aefric had almost felt bad about what he was about to do. Until Galdiff said that about borogs.

  “Very well, then,” Aefric said. “I shall follow law and custom in the matter of Gwawl.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” Galdiff said eagerly, visibly restraining himself from holding out a hand. “Does your grace have the amulet with him?”

  “It was my spells that stopped Gwawl and brought him into custody,” Aefric said, “and I can provide witnesses if desired.”

  “I witnessed,” Ser Beornric said.

  “As did I,” Ser Yrsa said.

  All around them, Aefric knights slapped their hilts in agreement.

  “As such,” Aefric said, “I assert that Gwawl is my prisoner by right of law and custom. General Yrsa, we’ll be taking him back to Water’s End.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said, giving Galdiff an evil smile.

  “I’ll see that his things are made ready, your grace,” Mayor Vagran said, smiling at Galdiff’s clear discomfort.

  “But…” Galdiff said, paling. “But your grace said that all the prisoners … that…”

  “Such was my intention,” Aefric said. “Not because I felt they were your due by action, nor by law and custom. But as a gesture of gratitude for the speed with which your ships and sailors came to my aid.”

  Aefric shook his head. “But for all I know right now, that pendant may be the key to taking down Nelazzi, the slavers, or both. And I’ll not surrender it. Which, it seems, requires me to keep Gwawl as my prisoner.”

  “Perhaps, your grace, we could—”

  “We cannot,” Aefric said, then arched an eyebrow at Galdiff, who’d begun sweating now. “I trust, Galdiff, that if I find I require other information or possessions from the remaining prisoners in order to stop those who prey on our sea lanes, that there will be no dispute?”

  “None, your grace,” Galdiff said, swallowing.

  Aefric clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You do not yet know me here,” Aefric said. “But I assure you. I claim that pendant not for greed or power, but because I may need it as I pursue the slavers and Nelazzi.”

  “Your grace truly intends to take down Nelazzi?”

  “I don’t like pirates. I don’t like smugglers. And I especially don’t like slavers. And she works with all three. She must be stopped.”

  Aefric shook his head with a sigh. “Or at least, she must be hampered. If I cannot stop her, I’ll at least make her turn her eyes away from our lands and ships.”

  Galdiff shook his head, looking at Aefric as though he’d said he’d make the sun rise in the west.

  He swallowed his words, though, frowning in thought as he looked out into the distance.

  “Though something Galdiff said has reminded me,” Aefric said to the mayor. “About your bounty on borogs…”

  The remainder of that afternoon was only about one part interesting for every three or four parts dull, in Aefric’s mind.

  It seemed that taking possession of the Swift Wave, transferring ownership of the mastless hulk, taking custody of Gwawl and the like all involved paperwork.

  Lots of paperwork.

  But the good moments made even the tedium worth enduring.

  The sheer relief of the refugees on seeing Aefric again, and being told they’d soon be taken to Water’s End.

  Those poor people had looked stressed and exhausted almost beyond endurance, but they broke out into smiles and a ragged but honest cheer all the same.

  That alone was almost worth the risk of war with Malimfar.

  Almost. Aefric knew all too well that the thought of war and the fact of war were very different matters.

  Nearly as good was getting to see Ser Micham greet his father and brother.

  Ser Micham tended towards being reserved, when about his duties. But he hefted both his father and his brother into the air in one great, shouting, joyful bear hug.

  He quickly recovered himself, bowed to Aefric, and began apologizing for failing to complete his task, but Aefric wouldn’t hear of it. And he insisted his knight take some time to greet his brother and father properly.

  The Swift Wave was just small enough for the voyage up the Searun, so Aefric had Ser Micham, the refugees, and the recovered cargo all transferred aboard it for the trip to Water’s End.

  The Swift Wave needed a crew, of course. But among the six ships Aefric had brought with him could be spared enough sailors to see that ship safely about such a short voyage.

  The mayor, his harbormaster, and Galdiff had all visibly paled at the sight of Aefric’s five ships full of ready soldiers. But when the mayor finally managed to sputter a question about them, Aefric wasn’t very reassuring.

  “I didn’t know what to expect in Ajenmoor,” he said, “or why my knight had been delayed on his mission. I was ready to … ensure compliance, if there were those who thought they could take advantage of the new duke.”

  The implications were not lost on any of them.

  Most of all, Aefric had to devote a good deal of the rest of his afternoon to waiting. He was tempted no less than fifteen times to simply fly back to Water’s End.

  Ultimately, he chose not to. He didn’t like setting the precedent of flying someplace just because royalty was waiting on him.

  It reminded Aefric of what Karbin and Kainemorton had always said about teleportation — if the nobles could simply pay for it, wizards would have time to do nothing else.

  Not that many wizards could teleport reliably and safely. Aefric himself didn’t even know the spell…

  The sun was setting by the time the paperwork was finished, everything that needed to be moved had been moved, and even the Swift Wave was ready for its trip up the Searun.

  Unfortunately, by then, that was a trip the Swift Wave could no longer make on its own. The wind had shifted, and was supporting the river’s flow. And as the mayor, the harbormaster, his chief assistant, and Galdiff all insisted, that meant oars were the only way up the Searun that night.

  The Swift Wave didn’t currently have enough crew to man the oars, and Aefric refused to have the refugees pressed into service.

  “Best to wait until morning, your grace,” Mayor Vagran said for the fourth time. “Dark has already begun to fall. Please. Allow me the honor of hosting you tonight.”

  On the one hand, the mayor had a point. The sun was setting over the Risen Sea, and already they’d called dock patrol out with lanterns to ensure enough light for the final stages of preparation.

  In fact, the city itself was coming alive with lights. Streetlamps were lit along the docks and the second and third tiers. None yet on the fourth and fifth tiers, but they’d probably be lit up soon.

  On the other hand, though, Aefric was keeping a princess waiting back at Water’s End. Delaying his return trip until morning might be the worst thing he could possibly do…

  He sighed. Clapped the mayor on the shoulder.

  “Normally, I would be quite happy to accept your fine offer of hospitality,” Aefric said. “And I’d like to spend some time here in Ajenmoor actually seeing the city, instead of rushing about on business.”

  He shook his head. “But alas, right now, matters are waiting for me back at Water’s End that must be dealt with before morning.”

  Galdiff — who still hung about, though his business was long-completed — snapped his attention to Aefric.

  “Anything I could be of assistance with, your grace?” he asked, a little too eagerly.

  “No,” Aefric said, forcing a smile. “Some things a duke must do for himself. But it means we must sail up the river tonight.”

  “Night sailing on a river is never entirely safe at the best of times,” Mayor Vagran said. “But with the wind and the river against you?” He shook his head. “You won’t get there any faster, your grace, if you run aground.”

  “Well,” Aefric said with a smile, “the river, even I cannot help. But I have learned to make the wind serve me, when needed.”

  A spell he’d learned from Sirondfar, court wizard to Duchess Ashling of Merrek, after the Malimfar business this past spring.

  A spell he’d learned … but not had a good excuse to use yet.

  “But your grace would be sailing away from the setting sun,” Mayor Vagran said, reasonably, “and into darkness.”

  “Oh,” Aefric said, allowing the yellow diamond atop the Brightstaff to begin to glow, “I think I can handle that.”

  “Your grace is determined then?” Mayor Vagran asked.

  “Your grace really ought to consider staying here in Ajenmoor tonight,” Galdiff said suddenly. “The people should have a proper chance to meet their duke.”

  “And they will,” Aefric said. “When I return for a proper visit. At which time, I will also wish to discuss with the council the state of trade and trade routes, and what can be done to improve both.”

  “I’m sure that could be arranged for the morning,” Galdiff said, getting a strange look from the mayor. “Or perhaps even over dinner…”

  “It will wait,” Aefric said. “Other matters take precedence right now, and those matters demand that I sail for Water’s End. Tonight.”

  Galdiff opened his mouth to say something else.

  “The question is decided,” Aefric said, arching an eyebrow.

  Galdiff nodded and bowed.

  Aefric and his knights and soldiers boarded the Duke’s Hand — save Ser Micham, who stood aboard the Swift Wave — while the mayor and the others watched from the docks, waving their goodbyes.

  Then, with a smile, Aefric lit up the night with his Brightstaff, and conjured a wind to carry his ships up the river and back to Lake Deepwater.

  This was no simple spell, though. It required nonstop focus and attention, for the duration of the trip.

  But to be honest, Aefric found the effort exhilarating and fulfilling in a way that most of his ducal duties simply were not.

  Plus, the need for concentration kept him from worrying about what might be waiting for him at Water’s End.

  5

  By the time the Duke’s Hand was in Lake Deepwater once more, the dark skies were bright with stars, the moon rode high, and Aefric was exhausted, and damp with sweat.

  What a day he’d had, starting before even that speech in Lachedran, then sailing to Water’s End, then on to Ajenmoor, and all that had happened there.

  Add to all that, the spells he’d worked to call enough wind to propel five ships upriver swiftly from Ajenmoor into Lake Deepwater.

  Spells that were more taxing than Sirondfar had led him to believe.

  But then, Sirondfar wasn’t just a wizard, he was a ventavis, which meant he specialized in the magic of birds and weather. Perhaps, for him, these spells weren’t taxing at all.

  Of course, practice might’ve been a factor.

  Oddly, Aefric felt more than just the mental effort of all that spellwork. His muscles ached. As though he’d been holding his arms, legs, and back tense for…

  Oh. Yes. He probably had. The entire way. Something else to keep an eye on, in the future.

  In the meantime, he called for water, and sat, panting, on his wooden chair on the afterdeck.

  “You know,” Ser Yrsa observed, from a folding, canvas chair to Aefric’s right. “He could probably have stopped his spells the moment we left the Searun. Rather than keeping them going halfway down the lake.”

  “True,” Ser Beornric said, from a similar chair to Aefric’s left. “But when does our duke make things easy on himself?”

  “Really?” Aefric said, accepting a skin of water from the captain’s cabin boy. “That’s the first thing you two have to say to me? Not ‘impressive work, your grace,’ or ‘could we fetch you some food, your grace?’ You have to point out that I could have stopped sooner?”

  He drank deeply from the waterskin. But his question went unanswered.

  “He’s less winded than I expected,” Ser Yrsa said to Ser Beornric, and the smile in her eyes — which did not reach her lips — said that she was enjoying their teasing.

  “Even magic that drains him never seems to do so for long,” Ser Beornric said to Ser Yrsa. “His recuperative powers are quite impressive.”