Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Along with that, he pondered what other public appearances he might make in order that such appearances might cease to be newsworthy. That will take more appearances that you may wish to make.

  Moencriff rapped on the study door. “Lady Delcoeur, sir.”

  Elacia entered, nodding to Charyn not quite perfunctorily, then stood waiting.

  “Is Ferrand joining us for a midday refreshments?”

  “He is.”

  “Excellent. And on Samedi?”

  “For dinner on Samedi, there will be Marshal Vaelln and his wife, Sephia, Vice-Marshal Maurek and his wife, Amalie, Commander Chaalt, whose wife is visiting family in Tuuryl and will not be here, and Subcommander Luerryn and his wife, Varcela. Do you wish dinner music?”

  “I think not,” replied Charyn. “What about the following Samedi?”

  “Everyone has accepted. Kayrolya D’Taelmyn and her parents, Marenna D’Almeida and her parents, Zhelyn D’Saeffen-Alte, and Sherrona D’Plessan and her mother, Sherryla. High Holder Plessan is Sherrona’s brother. Those are the ones you asked me to fill in. The others you requested by name all accepted.”

  “Is Ferrand pleased?”

  “Most likely, pleasantly so, but not totally.”

  “Because you picked young women whose parents would be more likely to accept him?”

  “Wasn’t that part of the reason for the dinner?”

  “Just part.”

  “You’ve been good to us, far more than other members of the regial family in the past.”

  Charyn wasn’t about to get into that part of family history. “Ferrand’s been a good friend, and you’ve been most helpful since Mother was required to be in Ryel.”

  “You will need music for the larger dinner.”

  “Strings, please. No clavecin.”

  Elacia paused just for a moment before replying. “That’s a wise choice.”

  Charyn wasn’t sure about that. Picking another clavecin player over Palenya would have been an insult, but Charyn felt uneasy about having Palenya play for a dinner where he was entertaining eligible women, and Charyn owed Palenya too much ever to do anything to hurt her.

  He did wonder when she might finish the nocturne commission, but since he wanted a good composition, he wasn’t about to hurry her. “What about the family dinner?” He already knew the answer, but not whether the formal replies had reached Elacia.

  “Maitre Alyna replied that they would all attend, and would be pleased to be here.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “If you don’t have anything pressing for me, Charyn, I thought I’d go over the menu for Samedi with Hassala.”

  “Please do.”

  Once Elacia left, Charyn picked up the draft of the letter from Sanafryt as Minister of Justice to High Holder Douvyt and began to read.

  You have requested relief from the Rex in the matter of a textile manufactorage built by one Factor Camarouth, charging that said manufactorage so contaminates the river water that your rights to use that water have been invalidated by the fact that the water is so poisoned that irrigating with it damages your flax plants.

  There is no specific provision in the Codex Legis dealing directly with damages caused by substances placed in stream or river water, nor does the Codex Legis require water users not to contaminate the water. Since there is no duty to leave the water uncontaminated, there is no firm legal basis for anyone to seek damages.

  Charyn frowned. Wasn’t there an unspoken civic duty not to poison the land and water? Certainly, if someone poisoned someone else …

  But under law, plants aren’t people.

  He picked up the draft and walked out of the study and made his way to Sanafryt’s study.

  The Minister of Justice rose as Charyn stepped into the study. “I see you’ve been reading my response to High Holder Douvyt.”

  “I have. Isn’t there a civic duty not to poison land or water?”

  “There may be a civic duty, but there’s not a legal obligation not to do it.”

  “I thought as much.” Charyn smiled. “What if I enacted a change to the Codex Legis that stated that users of water have the duty to return that water to the stream or river in the same state as when they removed it from the river?”

  “I can see several outcomes from that. Some users would dump the contaminated water elsewhere or put it in ponds to evaporate. Someone would certainly challenge the law on the grounds that there is no way to determine the precise state of water. Some would claim that what they were doing made no difference to the state of the water.”

  Charyn nodded, then said, “Draft something like that for me.”

  “Everyone will protest, Your Grace. And how could you possibly enforce such a law?”

  “I didn’t say I was going to make it law. I want to present the problem and the language to the joint councils and see what they think, or can come up with.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “We’ve already had two petitions on the matter. With more manufactorages being built, there will be more. The problem won’t go away, and I don’t want to be the one everyone complains about. At worst, the councils need to agree to do nothing. At best, we might come up with something.”

  Sanafryt was the one to frown.

  “The High Council, in particular, has the tendency to complain, but not to be helpful in resolving complaints, but they want to be more a part of governing.” Charyn grinned. “Let’s see what they have to say when they have to think about it.”

  “They’ll favor the High Holder.”

  “And then what happens when I point out, very gently, that I’ll have to revoke High Holder Haebyn’s rights by that precedent? Remember, all the factor councilors will be sitting across the table from them.”

  Sanafryt offered a sickly smile. “Ah … that will be interesting.”

  “If you could have draft language by next Lundi, the thirtieth, I’d appreciate that.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Now … there’s one other matter. About the artificers’ standard.”

  “You said that the councils rejected any law as unworkable.”

  “They did, but isn’t there a presumption in law that when a good is stamped as, say, sterling silver, and it’s not, that would constitute a form of theft, or at least fraud?”

  “Yes … but you’d have to prove it, and the cost of proving it would likely be more than the worth of the goods.”

  “What if the Civic Patrol brought such a case before a justicer?”

  “They’d have no standing.”

  “I’d like you to work on drafting something that would assert that, in the interests of the people of Solidar, the Civic Patrol has the right not only to bring such a charge, but if the charge is sustained, the seller of goods fraudulently presented is to be assessed a penalty, in addition to the costs of bringing the charge, and that upon a third offense, be sentenced to not less than two months in gaol.”

  “That will be even less popular than the water proposal.”

  “To the factors and the High Holders, but don’t I have the duty to protect people who aren’t either?”

  “You have to have the support of the factors and the High Holders, sir.”

  “Don’t they have the responsibility to deal fairly?”

  “They would claim they do deal fairly, and they would question whether your involvement is that necessary.”

  “Think some more about it. We’ll talk later.” Charyn offered a smile before turning and heading back to his study.

  Slightly before noon he was pondering the fact that he hadn’t seen the documents promised by Estafen regarding the ironworks when Sturdyn, relieving Moencriff, announced, “High Holder Delcoeur.”

  “Have him come in.” Charyn turned from where he stood by the window, smiling as his cousin approached. “How are matters going?”

  “You mean with the holding?” Ferrand offered a resigned smile. “I’ve managed to pay off what Father owed the Ba
nque D’Excelsis. I still owe the Banque D’Aluse three thousand golds.”

  “Weezyr’s not pressing you, then?”

  “Why should he? You were right about that. He wants the golds, and he decided he really didn’t want to press the cousin of the Rex. Not as long as I’ve been paying him regularly. There’s more income than I thought.” Ferrand shook his head. “Father wasn’t entering it all in the ledgers. It must have gone straight to the gaming tables. And with what you’re paying Mother…”

  “It’s very little.” Little at least for the widow of a High Holder, a “mere” two golds a week.

  “It’s enough for her personal items, and that makes her feel like she’s not reducing my inheritance.” Ferrand grinned almost boyishly. “People are talking to me again. Of course, as you pointed out, I’ll have to be careful for years, but considering I could easily have lost everything…”

  Not everything, Charyn knew, but enough that Ferrand would no longer have been a High Holder. “But you didn’t.”

  “Your advice and assistance made it possible.”

  “I did what I could, seeing as neither of us happened to be in the best of positions.” In the end, Charyn had “loaned” Ferrand a thousand golds out of his own personal funds, to be repaid after all other debts on the holding were paid. The thousand had been to provide enough, with what Ferrand had been able to raise, to immediately satisfy Weezyr at the Banque D’Aluse. Which was another reason why he’d had to borrow five thousand from the Ryel estate, instead of four, yet having the High Holding of a close relative and friend of the Rex fail, especially through no fault of Ferrand’s, wouldn’t have reflected well on Charyn. But taking golds from the treasury wouldn’t have reflected well on Charyn, either. “Your mother tells me that everyone has accepted for next Samedi’s dinner.”

  “Who, might I ask? She said that I’d have to find out from you because the list was your prerogative.”

  “There are five young women, one of whom I’d appreciate your not showing an interest in.”

  “Who might that one be? Not Maitre Malyna, I trust.” Ferrand grinned.

  “She’s not marriageable for either of us. No … Alyncya D’Shendael.”

  “She’s attractive, but not a raving beauty. Who are the other four?”

  “Shaelyna D’Baeltyn and her parents, Kayrolya D’Taelmyn and her parents, Marenna D’Almeida and her parents, and Sherrona D’Plessan and her mother. The other heirs are Zhelyn D’Saeffen-Alte and Ferron D’Fhernon-Alte.”

  “You didn’t invite Cynthalya D’Nacryon? I saw you being rather friendly with her at the Year-Turn Ball, and you danced with her at the Spring-Turn Ball.”

  “Only once. She’s nice enough, but I’ve learned a few things about High Holder Nacryon, and the last thing I need is more family politics.”

  “You’re sounding more like your father.”

  “He was right about family politics,” Charyn said humorously, not that he felt that way.

  “Why did you invite Ferron?”

  “Because he wants to marry Malyna, and I took pity on him. Besides, from what little I’ve seen, he’s got courage, judgment, and manners. I’d like to find out more about him.”

  “Are you going to court some of the High Council?”

  “I doubt many of them are in L’Excelsis at present, but that’s a good idea. You’ll note that all those I invited to dinner are from comparatively close by. It is summer.” Charyn turned toward the door. “We ought to join your mother for refreshments in the family parlor.”

  The two took the grand staircase down to the family parlor. Charyn still felt slightly uneasy coming down those wide marble steps. He supposed he would for a while, between what happened on them, or at their base, and the ensuing nightmares.

  Elacia was waiting in the parlor, standing beside the small circular table. “I wondered when you two might appear,” she said cheerfully.

  “I was persuading Charyn to share the invitation list for the dinner a week from Samedi. Was Shaelyna D’Baeltyn your idea?”

  “Most of the names came from the Rex,” said Elacia, her voice slightly arch, “and you’ll have to ask him, which I don’t suggest, dear.”

  Ferrand shook his head. “You two.”

  “We’re just looking out for you,” said Charyn, grinning as he seated himself, and then poured himself a cool pale ale from the pitcher. Unlike Bhayrn, he didn’t care that much for lager, and preferred ale only on warm days.

  Elacia smiled sweetly from where she sat between them, but Charyn saw a glint in her eyes, if but for a moment. Then she asked, “Have you heard much from your mother? She writes every week, I understand.”

  “She’s discovered that Karyel and Iryella don’t really know all that they should at their age about running a High Holding. She’s also worried about the summer heat and the lack of rain.”

  “Aren’t we all?” replied Ferrand. “The landwarden told me to expect a fair harvest at best, but likely a poor one, if not worse.”

  “Are you mostly in wheat corn?”

  “I don’t know. I leave it up to him.”

  Charyn merely nodded, although Ferrand’s attitude bothered him. Then, two years ago, you were just like that. He almost smiled at the thought that his impatience with pistols had changed everything.

  “Do you know what is planted everywhere?” asked Elacia.

  “No. I know fairly closely what’s planted on the lands at Chaeryll. That’s because they were my only source of funds for the past several years. I’ve been studying the landwardens’ reports from the rest of the lands, and I’ve made some inquiries and suggestions, but I couldn’t spend much time on that this year after everything that’s happened. Next year, I’ll likely make some changes.” And with more than crops, you hope.

  Elacia nodded, then said, “The early melon and the blueberries are quite good.”

  Charyn took a sip of the ale, deciding to let the conversation be light and about food and weather. “I wish the early melons lasted longer.”

  “I tend to prefer the later berries,” said Ferrand.

  By two quints before second glass Charyn was back in his study, going over the treasury account ledgers.

  Just before second glass, Moencriff rapped on the study door. “Craftmaster Argentyl, Your Grace.”

  “Have him come in.”

  The smallish black-haired silversmith entered the study, immediately inclining his head to Charyn before moving toward the chairs before the table desk.

  Charyn stood. “I appreciate your coming to see me, Craftmaster Argentyl.” He gestured to the chairs, then sat down.

  “It’s my pleasure, Your Grace.”

  “As I promised you, I have looked into the problem with shoddy goods and the misrepresentation of the quality of goods. I also brought the matter before the joint councils—both the Council of Factors and the High Council. They agreed that times have changed, and that such misrepresentation presents a problem.” Charyn paused for a moment. “That part is not the problem. The problem lies in finding a workable solution.”

  “Your Grace. We offered a solution.”

  “You did. The problem, according to the factors and High Holders, is that they would have to know how, where, and under what conditions everything they sell was made. They claim that is unworkable. As Rex, I do not have the golds to hire thousands of inspectors to patrol the markets and shops of Solidar. Nor are there enough men, or even women, who would know enough to distinguish between, as you pointed out earlier, silver plate and solid sterling, not without cutting into the metal, anyway, and that is only one of hundreds if not thousands of goods.”

  “It isn’t right, Your Grace. They shouldn’t be able to claim their goods are what they’re not. They’re stealing from us. Some craftmasters have had to let go apprentices, even journeymen. Already, you can hardly find a good weaver anywhere, not with those mills. Nor a good gunsmith, not with that rifleworks south of L’Excelsis. Except for a few that work for rich factor
s or High Holders.”

  Charyn didn’t know what he could really say. “I’ll spend some more time with the Minister of Justice and see if there’s another way.”

  “You could make a law, Your Grace.”

  “I said that to him, and he asked me how I’d be able to enforce it. Would you want me to tariff you to pay for the inspectors? My father fought two civil wars with the High Holders over tariffs.”

  “We can’t pay what we don’t have, sir.”

  “That’s my problem, too, strange as it sounds.”

  “Do you need to fight with the Jariolans?”

  “Do you and the metalworkers need tin? It all comes by ship. Do you like spices for your food? Most of them come from Otelyrn.”

  Argentyl’s shoulders slumped.

  “I haven’t forgotten you and the guilds, Argentyl, but it’s going to take some time to see how this can be done.”

  “You’ve listened, Your Grace. That’s more than any before you. But it doesn’t put bread on the table.”

  “I know that.” Charyn stood. “I knew that before you came, but I told you I’d let you know, and I haven’t given up yet.” Even if you don’t have the faintest idea of what might work.

  “Might be best if you found a solution before long. There are those who won’t stay quiet much longer.”

  “Who might those be?”

  “I don’t know. Those who do won’t tell me. But you should know.” The master crafter stood. “I’d best be going, Your Grace.”

  Charyn just stood there long after the silversmith had left.

  6

  On Vendrei morning, Charyn received a visit from Factor Estafen with all the documents pertaining to the transfer of the ironworks, as well as a stack of ledgers and copies of the master ledgers of the ironworks dating back to its founding. After changing into his factoring garb, and wearing his gold exchange pin, he took the unmarked coach and went with Estafen to the exchange, where he transferred six thousand golds to Estafen and the deed for the ironworks was recorded in his name.