head of state, even a small state such as Hulburg. They come from various nobles and realms around the Moonsea. We’ve only received a handful so far, but there will be more over the next few tendays.”
Geran glanced at Kara, and back to Quillon. “If it’s typical correspondence, I’m not sure I understand what the problem is. How would we normally answer them?”
“Oh, I can see to that, Lord Geran. Answering them is not the difficulty—although there are some that should be read by a member of the family, and not just myself. The difficulty is that, well, I am not exactly certain who should sign them.” The halfling pushed at his spectacles uncomfortably. “You see … well, ah … I am not certain who is to become harmach. I brought these letters to Lady Kara since she assisted Harmach Grigor with such things over the last few years, but she told me that no decision has been made yet.”
“It’s not just the correspondence,” Kara added. “With the funeral tomorrow, there are questions of protocol too. We’ve avoided this discussion as long as we can.”
He stood in silence, looking at the letters in Quillon’s hand. Between the two of them, he and Kara had overseen the household for the last few days. But that was clearly a temporary arrangement. “Is there any decision to be made?” he finally asked. “I assume that Harmach Grigor left instructions for this. Or do the laws of succession simply dictate the answer?”
“I am afraid that Harmach Grigor named no one after Lord Isolmar died,” Quillon replied. “And the laws of succession are unclear. I believe that it is a matter for the family to decide, my lord.”
“I see.” Geran frowned. “Kara, what do you make of this?”
“I think the best thing to do is to bring everyone together and discuss it. The sooner, the better.”
He nodded. “Master Quillon, would you join us in the study at two bells? Your knowledge of the law may be helpful.”
“Of course, Lord Geran. I’ll fetch my pen and paper.” Quillon bowed, and hurried away.
The two Hulmasters watched him go, and Geran allowed himself a grimace of apprehension. He knew he didn’t want the throne—he wanted Grigor to be harmach, just as he’d been throughout the entirety of Geran’s life. But an assassin’s dagger had changed that, and Geran’s wishes had no power to put things back in order. No, the question was not whether he wanted to be harmach. The question was whether he was willing to be harmach if that was the best thing for his family.
Kara watched him as he wrestled with his thoughts. “I know it can’t be me, Geran,” she said in a low voice. “Whatever you decide, I’ll back you.”
He nodded gratefully, even though he had no idea what was the right course. “I suppose we’d better gather everyone.”
A little less than an hour later, the Hulmaster clan assembled in Lasparhall’s study. Natali and Kirr were excused, but Erna was present to speak for her children if need be. Terena and Serise sat near the fire, and Geran stood by the window, paying little attention to the chill radiating from the frost-covered panes. Master Quillon took an unobtrusive place in the room’s corner, his writing materials laid out before him.
Kara dismissed the servants from the room, closing the door behind them as she turned to face the Hulmasters. “I’m afraid there is a question that we must settle today,” she said. “Scores of nobles from Thentia and ambassadors from other cities will be here tomorrow to attend Harmach Grigor’s funeral rites. The question that will be on all their minds is simply this: who is to be the next harmach?”
“You and Geran have been looking after things since—well, over the last few days,” Terena said. “What do the laws of succession say?”
“Very little, I’m afraid,” Kara answered. She looked over to Master Quillon. “Have you found anything more?”
The halfling shook his head. “Regretfully, no. The difficulty is that Hulburg’s laws provide little guidance. By tradition the harmach names his heir. Until four years ago, that was clearly Lord Isolmar, but Harmach Grigor never named a new heir after Isolmar’s death. As far as I can determine, it’s been more than a hundred and fifty years since a harmach died without a son who was ready and willing to take the title, so there is no obvious precedent to follow.”
“Why didn’t he simply choose someone?” Erna said sadly. “Then we would know better what