Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “How did you discover this?”

  “He wrote me from a small town near Ruile where he is hiding in fear for his life.”

  “What about the Civic Patrol?”

  “The Patrol Captain there said that since no one was hurt and that the anomen wasn’t damaged and that Tharyn couldn’t identify any of the True Believers, there wasn’t much the Patrol could do.”

  “He couldn’t identify people who threatened his life?”

  “I forgot to mention that they wore white gowns with hoods that concealed their faces.” Refaal added sardonically, “White for purity, of course.”

  Charyn had to wonder if Chorister Tharyn just might be … less than the measure of probity presented or assumed by Refaal. Certainly, Charyn’s limited experience in dealing with Chorister Saerlet had been suggestive that Saerlet was always wanting more, ostensibly for his anomen, not that Charyn was about to allude to that, especially at the moment. “It sounds as though Chorister Tharyn has made some enemies. Would you know how that might have happened?”

  “He’s a good chorister, and devoted to the Nameless. It’s not just about him.”

  Not just about him? Interesting word choice. “If it’s not about him, then what is it about?”

  “These True Believers aren’t just in Ruile. Other choristers have reported that there are some in Ferravyl, and in Tilbora and Midcote.”

  Charyn frowned. Ferravyl wasn’t that far from Ruile, but Midcote was more than a thousand milles from either. “How long have you known about the True Believers?”

  “Chorister Ellkyt in Tilbora wrote me about them two years ago,” replied Refaal. “That was when I was chorister in Talyon.”

  “Why did he write you? Did they threaten him?”

  Refaal shook his head. “He lost part of his congregation to them.”

  And part of their offerings … and his income, no doubt.

  “There have been threats before, but nothing this violent,” added Saerlet.

  “You didn’t ever mention anything like this,” Charyn said mildly. “Is that because reports from other choristers went to Chorister Lytaarl as head of the anomen in L’Excelsis?”

  “Oh, no,” said Saerlet. “Every anomen is separate. Organizing the anomens, with a head chorister like a High Holder or a Rex … that would be a form of Naming. We just correspond with the choristers we know. My family comes from Suemyron, and I know more choristers in Antiago and to the west of L’Excelsis, while Refaal tends to know more in the east.”

  “Through all of the east of Solidar?” asked Charyn.

  “No, Your Grace. I do know a number. I only know Ellkyt by correspondence because he helped a distant cousin many years ago. He sent me copies of letters from other choristers.”

  Saerlet cleared his throat. “I did hear something about the True Believers from Chorister Baardyn last autumn in Eluthyn, but I thought it was an isolated instance.”

  “What did Baardyn say?”

  “Not all that much. He’d heard of an anomen in Semlem that had been taken over by them … that is, before the local High Holder ran them out. High Holder Lenglan, I think it was. The younger, that is. His father…” Saerlet shook his head.

  Charyn had never heard of Lenglan, although it was clear there was something notorious about Lenglan’s father, but with something around fifteen hundred High Holders, he couldn’t be expected to know, let alone remember, all of them. “Have either of you heard of anything else?”

  The two exchanged glances once more, then both shook their heads.

  “If you do,” continued Charyn, “I would appreciate your letting me know.”

  “We will,” said Saerlet.

  “It’s was my duty and pleasure, sir,” declared Refaal. “Perhaps at some time you could come and visit the Anomen D’Excelsis. It dates back to the time of the Bovarians, with some improvements, of course.”

  “And, Your Grace,” added Saerlet smoothly, “I know events have weighed heavily upon you, but your presence at the Anomen D’Rex has been sorely missed. I would hope that you might be able to attend services at least now and again. I do believe that it would serve you well if word got around that you were present at services.”

  And it would likely serve you well, also. “You make an excellent point, Chorister Saerlet. Indeed, you do.” He paused. “I cannot make a commitment to be there every Solayi, nor would it be wise for me to inform you or anyone when I might again attend services, but your observation has merit, and I will give it serious consideration.” Charyn rose from his chair. “I do thank you both for coming and for letting me know about the True Believers.”

  “It was our duty as choristers and as loyal subjects,” replied Saerlet.

  Refaal nodded in agreement, then inclined his head, as did Saerlet, and the two turned and made their way from the study.

  Once the door closed, Charyn recalled that Refaal had requested a meeting not long after Charyn’s father’s assassination, and that Charyn had deferred such a meeting. Was the talk about the True Believers just a ploy to meet Charyn?

  Charyn frowned. With two of them and the specifics they had mentioned, there was likely enough to the True Believers to disconcert the two choristers … and, self-serving as Saerlet was about Charyn attending services, he was also right. Charyn knew he had withdrawn from public view far too much … but … he still needed to be very careful.

  2

  When Charyn reached his study on Meredi morning, it was still only seventh glass, but he knew he had to think out more thoroughly how he was going to handle the joint Council meeting scheduled for the first glass of the afternoon, always held in the study on the eighteenth of the month. As usual, he wore the uniform greens of an army officer, but without any insignia.

  The first thing he did upon sitting down at the wide desk was to pick up the copy of Veritum, one of the two newssheets circulated in L’Excelsis, and quickly read through it. One of the stories on the first page reported that a Jariolan frigate had attacked the Diamond Thuyl, which had retaliated with Antiagon Fire shells that had turned the Jariolan into an inferno. In return, a Jariolan first-rate ship of the line sank the Diamond Thuyl using long-range cannon.

  Charyn lowered the newssheet. Marshal Vaelln had sent him a similar report on Lundi evening, and that meant that the newssheet had gotten the information almost as soon as Charyn had. It also meant that High Holder Chaeltar, the other new member of the High Holders’ Council besides Calkoran, would likely be demanding to know why the navy hadn’t prevented the sinking of the Diamond Thuyl … or something along that line.

  The remainder of the newssheet contained nothing of extreme interest except the observation that Juyn had been unseasonably warm and dry and that, if the lack of rainfall continued, the late-summer and early-harvest crop yields would be low, and that without more immediate rainfall some of the maize harvest might be completely lost. Since the heavy spring rains had washed out some crops, especially in low-lying areas along the River Aluse, quite a number of growers could suffer, and grain prices would be high, which meant many more would suffer.

  Charyn set aside the newssheet and stood, walking to the study door and stepping out. “Moencriff, I’m going to see Minister Alucar. I hope I won’t be too long.”

  Not that it likely mattered. Bhayrn was the only family member left in the Chateau since their mother had left for Rivages with Karyel and Iryella over a month ago. That was a very mixed blessing, since, even with Chelia’s success in instilling more manners and care in her charges—her grandnephew and grandniece—Karyel had gotten on Charyn’s nerves more than a few times, especially when he attempted to employ the sincerely warm—and totally false—smile that seemed to run in most of the Ryel line, and Karyel’s younger sister always seemed to be concealing some machination, even when she was not.

  Alucar’s study door was locked. Charyn frowned. Alucar was always punctual, incredibly punctual. He’d never been late or missed a day without letting Charyn know in adv
ance.

  Shaking his head, Charyn walked back to his own study, stopping at the door. “Moencriff, will you have someone let me know when Minister Alucar arrives?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll pass the word to the duty guard. Do you want the minister to come to your study?”

  “No. I’ll go to his. It won’t take that long.”

  “Thank you.”

  Almost a glass passed before Moencriff opened the door. “Minister Alucar just came in. He’s in his study.”

  Charyn immediately stood and walked along the upper corridor until he reached Alucar’s study, where he opened the study door and immediately motioned for Alucar to remain seated. “I was a little worried. You always give me notice…”

  “Your Grace … I must apologize. You know old Slaasyrn?”

  “Your head clerk?”

  “He died last night. It was very sudden. His daughter sent word, and I went there before I came here. I didn’t realize how long it might take.”

  “He’s been the head clerk for…?” Charyn knew it had been a long time, possibly since before his father had been Rex.

  “At least several years before I became Finance Minister and while Aevidyr was acting Finance Minister.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Charyn seated himself in the straight-backed chair he’d used not all that long ago in studying with the Finance Minister. “Do you know how? As I recall, he was old, but not that old.”

  “The healer said his heart stopped. Lately, he’d had a few spells where he was light-headed, but he’d seemed fine the last few weeks, and he was very helpful in setting things up for updating the factorages and landholdings of the High Holders. That’s why I was surprised to hear it. We’ll miss him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll take care of matters, then?”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn paused, then said, “Since you already brought it up, how is the updating coming?”

  “Very, very slowly. It’s going to take longer without Slaasyrn. He was the most familiar with the records. Then we also have to have the regional finance ministers send out people. It’s going to take years. I did tell you that.”

  “I know, but the tariff levies are based largely on either landholdings recorded generations ago or on what they report.”

  Alucar smiled sardonically. “As I told you before, it’s worse than that. Those who’ve sold or bequeathed lands are quick to report those losses—at least until they get close to the minimum number of hectares to be a High Holder. Those who have expanded their holdings seldom report them. We catch some when they make petitions, but the most successful High Holders are almost all undertariffed, while a few of the least successful are overtariffed. There’s one High Holder who has lands scattered all across Solidar, so that we’ve had to contact all the regional governors.” He shook his head. “Some of those lands are on our rolls and not the regional rolls, and some are on their rolls and not ours.”

  “Are they all like that?”

  “That kind of scattering is rare, but the inconsistency in records is more common than I’d like. One in fifteen, so far.”

  “How can you reconcile that?”

  “If the regional governors report different tariff payments from what we received the previous year, we could inquire. Your father wouldn’t allow us to reassess. Neither did his father. Slaasyrn told me he almost lost his position over it.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “He said it was better left behind.”

  Charyn shook his head. With all the ways his father had tried to avoid conflict with individual High Holders, why had he antagonized them as a group? Charyn sometimes wondered how Solidar had survived as long as it had. But the past was past. All he could do was try to make things better.

  “Do you have the figures on the shipyard and shipbuilding?”

  Alucar smiled and pointed to a single sheet on the corner of the desk. “It’s laid out the way you requested.” He handed the sheet to Charyn.

  “Thank you. Now … where do we stand on the repairs to piers and the wall on the west side of the river?”

  “The temporary repairs have cost just under six hundred golds. Aevidyr estimates that the permanent repairs will cost at least four thousand golds, but there’s no point in starting them until the water levels drop.”

  Charyn nodded. “What about reserves?”

  “You’re down to eight thousand golds.”

  Charyn didn’t bother to hide his wince, not that the amount was unexpected, but annual tariff revenues wouldn’t start to come in for three months, not until mid-Feuillyt at the earliest, and the unbudgeted and unexpected outlays were continuing. “I may have to draw on those.”

  “You’ve mentioned that. It would be better if you could wait.”

  “We’ll see. What about revenues from customs duties?”

  “Those in Mayas were about the same as in last Mayas…”

  When Alucar finished going over the latest budget figures, Charyn made his way to the study of Aevidyr, the Minister of Administration. He could have summoned Aevidyr to his study, but he’d discovered it was far easier to end meetings smoothly with Aevidyr in the minister’s study than in the Rex’s study.

  He opened the study door and immediately motioned for Aevidyr to remain seated. “Do you have any other suggestions for the position of regional governor of Khel?”

  “I hoped you might consider Nuaraan D’Nualt as a possible successor to Regional Governor Warheon.”

  “He’s a junior son of High Holder Nualt?”

  “Of course.”

  “To what other High Holders is he related?”

  “Ah … his wife is a younger sister of High Holder Nacryon.”

  “The former High Councilor from Khel?” With whom Maitre Alastar had had a certain considerable difficulty, if Charyn recalled correctly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “To what other High Holder might he be related?”

  “Sir, every High Holder’s offspring are related to other High Holders.”

  Charyn managed not to sigh, because Aevidyr was absolutely right, but why did his Minister of Administration keep coming up with names related to High Holders who’d been thorns in either his father’s side or Maitre Alastar’s side?

  “Your Grace,” replied Aevidyr, “you’ve rejected every name I’ve come up with who is willing to serve.”

  “That’s because every one of them who wants to serve would be no better than Warheon … or even worse, Voralch.” Charyn didn’t like thinking about Voralch, who had absconded with almost two thousand golds and taken a ship to the Abierto Isles, largely because Charyn hadn’t acted on his impulse to sack Voralch immediately. But then, Voralch would have done the same thing, just earlier, and Ryel still would have burned the former regial chateau in Solis. That said, Voralch wouldn’t have been able to make off with all the valuables that he’d taken. “We need to think about a different approach to selecting a regional governor.”

  “In the past, sir, Rexes have always chosen from recommendations made by High Holders.” Aevidyr smiled pleasantly.

  “Who largely made recommendations to serve their own interests.”

  “Everyone has interests, sir.”

  “Perhaps you could think of a way to harness those interests to benefit Solidar as a whole and not just the High Holder making the recommendation,” suggested Charyn. “Or to a few relatives.”

  Aevidyr frowned, then said, “What about Nuaraan D’Nualt?”

  “Given the trouble created by his family, I think not.”

  “Sir … that’s the fifth name you’ve rejected.”

  That should tell you something. “You’re absolutely correct, Aevidyr. Why don’t you think about how we can get names that will better serve Solidar?” Charyn smiled politely. “We’ll talk later.”

  As he left Aevidyr’s study, he had to ask himself why he’d bothered to keep Aevidyr as minister, but it was far from the first time he’d
asked that question and the answer was always the same. Because you understand Aevidyr and know his weaknesses, and, in the end, he does what is necessary. If you watch him closely.

  The danger with that way of thinking, he knew, was that he’d never get a minister any better and that he might come tacitly around to Aevidyr’s views. Which means you also need to find a way to get better ministers, at least a better Minister of Administration.

  Once he was back in his study, he began to read the appeals, largely from the east and mostly from High Holders, to his change to the law governing water rights, a change that had made the law the same across all Solidar.

  He was still reading when Moencriff rapped on the study door.

  “Lord Bhayrn, sir.”

  Even before Moencriff finished speaking, Bhayrn was inside the study and walking toward Charyn. He settled into the chair facing the table and closest to the open window.

  “How long do I have to stay in the Chateau?”

  “I’ve told you for months that you don’t have to stay. I’ve also been willing to show you what I do and why.”

  “You make it feel like I’m being tutored.”

  “As I told you before, you could work with any of the ministers…”

  “They’re worse.”

  Charyn managed a smile. “If you change your mind…”

  “I’ll let you know.” Bhayrn shook his head. “It’s not as bad as when Father had us imprisoned here in the Chateau, but you work so much that it’s not much better.”

  Charyn momentarily thought about explaining why, but, instead, just asked, “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere…”

  “Then go. Arrange with Maertyl for two or three guards to accompany you. I would suggest that both you and the guards wear army greens.”