Will it do any good?
He had no idea, but he’d had to do something.
16
Charyn made another inspection ride out to the flood-affected area of L’Excelsis on Vendrei, and while the standing water had vanished, that part of the city reeked of moisture, drying mud, and an underlying scent of corruption under a blazing white harvest sun that seemed to be trying to return the land to a state of drought as quickly as possible.
When he returned to the Chateau and his study, he quickly read through both newssheets.
In addition to a detailed assessment of the flood damage, Veritum included a brief story on Charyn:
The Rex, wearing no trappings of regiality, rode out for days to survey the flooded area of L’Excelsis south of the west river piers. On his last tour he handed out silvers to those there who were cleaning up their homes and shops, asking them to tell no one for a day or so. Many of those who received those coins from the hand of the Rex himself had no idea who the young man with the armed guards even was. He never identified himself, but this newssheet has confirmed that it was the Rex. The Rex admitted that the silvers were only a token, but since when has a ruler shown any concern for those afflicted by the ravages of nature?
On the other hand, the report from Tableta was anything but favorable.
The Rex is definitely trying to earn the title of “beloved.” His newest stratagem is handing out silvers to those who suffered the ravages of the flood. Those silvers would have been better spent rebuilding the river walls. Then again, handing out a few silvers was far cheaper than spending golds to rebuild the walls …
Charyn shook his head. It’s not as though I have the tens of thousands of golds necessary to rebuild all the river walls in L’Excelsis. He still had to wonder just why Tableta had such a dislike of him. He didn’t recall anything like that before … except, he reminded himself, he’d never even known the newssheets existed before he became Rex. His father had banned them from the Chateau D’Rex.
He was still thinking that over when Moencriff opened the study door. “Several letters, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Charyn walked to the study door and took the missives. By the seal, one was from his mother, one from Paersyt, and another from Factor Elthyrd.
He decided to read those from Elthyrd and Paersyt first, beginning with the one from the Factor Councilor.
Your Grace—
As I may have suggested as a possibility when you were so kind as to see me last week, the attacks against imported wares and those produced by manufactorages have continued, and in one case, an entire factorage building was burned to the ground. Factor Eshmael’s cotton and woolen fabrics in the building were destroyed, in addition to the factorage itself. There have also been attacks of this nature in Kherseilles and Cheva.
In view of the meeting of the councils next week, I wanted you to be aware of the growing severity of the problem. Combined with the disruption of river shipping, this has many factors greatly concerned …
Charyn shook his head. The guilds and the artisans were unhappy, and likely several of them were behind the destruction, and that was making the factors unhappy. And no one was happy about two floods in two seasons.
And right now, you don’t have an answer that will make either group happy.
He set aside Elthyrd’s letter and picked up the newssheets, going through them quickly once again … but there was no mention of a fire or any damage at a factorage. Yet the first attack on a shop had been mentioned. If there had been as many as Elthyrd had reported, why weren’t they in the newssheets? Especially when they can take time to report on where you ride.
He dropped Tableta on top of Veritum and picked up the letter from Paersyt, wondering what problems it held. Had the flood damaged his factorage? He took a deep breath, then slit the envelope and extracted the single sheet.
Your Grace—
I am relieved to be able to report that the recent floods largely missed my modest works, aside from a few digits of water in one part of the work area. The damage to the piers and the high and turbulent state of the river, however, will require a delay in water trials of the steam engine until the launching ramp beside the pier is available and such time as the water is calmer and is not crowded with debris. That may be as long as another two weeks, if not longer.
In the meantime, I am working on some possible improvements to the seals for the driveshaft to the water screw …
This time Charyn nodded. He couldn’t have expected anything else, and at least Paersyt hadn’t had anything destroyed.
Once he finished reading what Paersyt had written, he decided to read his mother’s letter, hoping there wasn’t more bad news.
Dear Charyn—
The rain flooded some of the lowland and bottomland fields. It struck harder south of Rivages. I only hope that L’Excelsis isn’t flooded again. As Rex, that’s not something that you need, although that’s what you must expect.
Aloryana just wrote me. I cannot tell you how pleased she is that you’re seeing her every Solayi. Since she has to attend services, your being there makes it much better. She reports that she is continuing to study with Palenya and to practice, although it’s more difficult to find time to practice because there’s really only the one clavecin available …
Should you think about looking into getting another? Charyn shook his head. Then, there’d still only be two for the same number of student imagers, and that wouldn’t do much for Aloryana. He almost felt guilty for having a clavecin all to himself.
Bhayrn is getting somewhat better about learning what it is to run a High Holding. He still gets frustrated when I make him read ledgers and tell me what the figures show about the holding. Karyel, on the other hand, is most adept with such figures. He does tend to make errors because he jumps to conclusions before reading everything.
Iryella is more like Aloryana. She likes music and can play the clavecin well for her age. She prefers the harp, but that may be because she recalls her mother playing it …
When he set down Chelia’s letter, Charyn couldn’t help but think of the irony if Karyel and Iryella turned out in a better fashion than Bhayrn. But now who’s jumping to conclusions?
17
Mardi morning found Charyn pacing back and forth in his study. The weekend had been mostly quiet, and he’d enjoyed the time with Aloryana at services and at the Maitre’s house afterward, although Chorister Iskhar’s homily about duty and false humility had grated on him for reasons he wasn’t sure he could explain. Charyn certainly didn’t think he was humble, and he thought he tried not to be arrogant … but there had been something about the homily … and then there was the fact that Palenya was coming to tune the clavecin. For the moment, he pushed that thought aside.
Lundi had been without incident. He hadn’t even received any more letters from either his mother or from Factor Elthyrd—nor a response from Alyncya from his last letter.
The latest edition of Veritum had contained a very short story about an unexplained fire that had burned down one of Factor Eshmael’s factorages and destroyed all its contents. The Civic Patrol had declared the fire had been deliberately set, but had not been able to determine who set the fire or why. There was no story about that fire or other damages to factors’ goods or buildings in Tableta. All that puzzled Charyn, but he had no real idea why the newssheets published some stories and not others.
Since pacing solved nothing, he finally settled behind the table desk and went over the language of the proposed law on water return, then jotted a note to Sanafryt to have fifteen copies of the language made. That reminded him, again, that he really did need a personal secretary or at least a scrivener. That was another matter he’d put off, and shouldn’t have. But how can you find someone truly trustworthy?
After a time, he nodded.
Then he turned to another petition, one about the inability of High Holders to punish known poachers who were not on a High Holder’s own lands when an en
tire village knew who was poaching and when everyone in the village claimed not to know. Charyn set that one aside to discuss with Sanafryt.
He was halfway through the first page of a complaint by a High Holder Leomyk, which seemed to be about the location of a regial courier road with regard to a gristmill, when Moencriff knocked on the study door.
“A letter for you, sir.” The guard tried not to smile when he handed the missive to Charyn.
As he took the letter and caught sight of the bold penmanship, he understood Moencriff’s smile, even as he wondered if he’d been that transparent about his interest in Alyncya. More transparent than you realize, obviously. He walked back to the desk, slit open the envelope, and immediately began to read.
Your Grace—
I must apologize for the delay in replying to your kind letter of the fourth of Agostos, but I neglected to mention that I sent my previous correspondence to you just before we left on our journey to Vaestora. Although your letter was forwarded to me I did not receive it until late yesterday …
Charyn looked at the date—10 Agostos.
… You will likely receive this just before we arrive home because Father decided we should return with High Holder Calkoran and his wife. She would not normally accompany him every time he travels to L’Excelsis for the Council meetings, but she will this time. That is due to a certain invitation, I would guess, but I did not ask, and Lady Saelya has not volunteered her reason or reasons.
I look forward to that time when you play “Variations on a Khellan Melody” for me, but I will not press you on when that may be. You have many challenges before you and much that must take up your waking hours.
Our visit here in Vaestora has been pleasant, and Staenyla approved highly of your idea of her occasionally accompanying her father to L’Excelsis. So did High Holder Calkoran, although Staenyla will not be coming in Agostos, since she will be in charge of the hold house in the absence of her parents.
You posed an intriguing question about whether we should be judged more on intent because we have a choice in what we do. Do we in fact have a choice? We may in some matters, but not in others. Did your sister Aloryana have a choice in becoming an imager? For that matter, did you really have choice in becoming Rex? For if you had declined to accept the burden, would not it have fallen to your brother—without his choosing, either? Then, there are degrees of choice. How much choice do I have in whom I might wed? I am fortunate in that my father will not force a match upon me, no matter how well-endowed a suitor might be, but I cannot seek out a husband in quite the way that a High Holder or a Rex can seek a wife.
Charyn half-smiled, half-frowned at the pair of veiled messages in those lines. At least, he thought there were two messages there.
The other question of import is whether, in many cases, intent matters in the slightest. If I intend no evil, but an act of mine harms another, how does my intent make me less guilty? I may have wished for the best, but my information may have been lacking, or my judgment may have been poor, and the result even worse. Good intent may ease my guilt or conscience, but how can it reduce the harm? If a poor grower’s child starves because his crops fail, as do those of all his neighbors, is that loss any less than if the child dies of the flux or is run down by the horses of a careless teamster?
Should we then, perhaps, inquire into what lies behind your question? Could it be that the attribution of greater evil to maleficent “intent” implies that men have the power to cause evil and that refraining from doing so thereby elevates them, whereas nature is not considered more elevated when there are not destructive droughts or ruinous rains?
You see, Your Grace, that, as you noted about my sire, I am also wont to reply in greater honesty than is often appreciated.
I remain, your interested correspondent.
Once more, her signature was her formal full name.
At least she’s letting me know that she’s still interested. Charyn slipped the letter back into its envelope and then placed the envelope in the cabinet behind his desk.
He thought about replying immediately, but decided against it. He might have more of interest to say after the Council meeting, and after talking with High Holder and Lady Calkoran at the “family” dinner. And there was also the fact that Alyncya had made it more than clear that she had no interest in being rushed into anything … especially with Charyn.
And … he wanted to see how he felt after he saw Palenya, something he’d avoided for months. Did you really do the right thing with her … for both of you?
He was still thinking that over when Moencriff rapped on the study door.
“Yes?”
“Sir,” said Moencriff, “the musician is here to tune the clavecin. You asked to be notified when she arrived.”
“Thank you.” Charyn took a deep breath and stood.
Then he walked to the study door and made his way down to the music room … and then inside.
Palenya had set a satchel beside the clavecin and was rising with a cloth of some sort in hand. She wore imager gray. As she saw Charyn, she stopped, and inclined her head. “Your Grace.”
Charyn tried not to wince at the formality, but managed to return the greeting. “Musician Palenya.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”
“You mean, if I’d come to see you,” Charyn said lightly. “How could I not?”
Palenya’s face tightened. “Your Grace…”
Charyn shook his head. “You’re the best musician and clavecin tuner I know. Even if it weren’t … for what was … a good musician deserves respect. That’s something you taught me. I’m well aware that I’ve avoided you, but that was not out of lack of respect, I hope you know.”
“I know. I appreciate that kindness … all your kindnesses. But there are some things that are not meant to be. I’ve hoped that you’ve come to understand that.” Her smile was sadly knowing.
“That’s taken a little more time.” He managed a smile. “I do have a favor to ask. One that I’ll pay for.”
“Oh?” Her tone was guarded.
“I’m trying to learn two new pieces. They’re both likely beyond my unaided skill, but I’ve been working hard on both of them. I’d appreciate it if you would let me play through them and offer your skills in improving what I’m doing.”
“I can do that.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“Do you want to do it before or after I tune?”
“Before. Something might come up later. There are a few matters…” Charyn shook his head, then went to the music cabinet and retrieved both sets of sheet music.
After returning and sitting down at the clavecin, he began with the Farray “Pavane in a Minor Key.” When he finished, he looked up. “I don’t play it as well as you do.”
“You’re still having problems with the way Farray uses ritards, and you’re rushing the tempo at the end of long phrases. I have to say that you have gotten better.”
“Surprisingly, I have more time to practice. There’s no one else here in the Chateau most of the time.”
Palenya dropped her eyes but for an instant before saying, “Now do the other piece.”
Charyn set up the music for “Variations on a Khellan Melody,” then waited as he saw Palenya studying the engraved notes.
She looked from the music to him. “I don’t recognize the hand of the engraver, but it’s done very well, someone likely taught by Heldryk. If I had to guess.”
“You’re right about that, I think,” replied Charyn.
She continued to study the music. “It’s a piece by Covaelyt that’s seldom played and played in public even less. That’s a shame, because it has a certain charm. Might I ask where you found this?”
“I didn’t. Someone played it at an entertainment, and I asked what it was, and a week later, I received the music as a gift. It’s harder than it seemed when I heard it played.”
Palenya frowned. “It’s more complex than it would sound. Why don�
�t you play it for me? As well as you can. I won’t say anything until you’ve played through it.”
Charyn seated himself at the keyboard and began, hoping his rendition didn’t contain too many misfingerings or errors. When he finished, he looked up.
“Your fingering in some of the transitions is adequate. It could be better. You have the tempo of the piece, but not the spirit. We’ll need to work on the fingering. Also on consistency.”
Charyn grinned. “You haven’t changed.”
“Why should I? You want to play better, and that means you need to know what’s wrong. That doesn’t change just because you’re Rex.” There was a lightness that tempered the last words.
More than a glass later, Charyn rose from the clavecin. “Thank you.”
“Most of that you did yourself.” She offered a smile of amusement. “I told you that you’d get better if you practiced more.”
“You did, and I’ve followed that advice.” If not for the same reasons that you had in mind.
She looked directly at him. “It wouldn’t have worked, you know?”
“You told me that before.”
“You really weren’t listening then. I think you’re listening now.”
“Are you happy at the Collegium?”
Palenya nodded. “You were most generous, and everyone there has been welcoming. I don’t think any musician could have asked for more.”
Charyn smiled. “You aren’t just any musician, and you never were.” He paused, then said, “I told you that before, and you weren’t listening to me then, either. Are you listening now?”
“Yes. But … I know I wasn’t just any musician … to you. There are other musicians as good.”
“Not many.”
“I’ll accept that.”
“You do owe me one other thing.”
She frowned, momentarily, before saying, “The composition … the nocturne, you mean.”
Endgames Page 15