Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Charyn frowned as he heard what seemed to be chanting coming from the back of the anomen. He glanced in that direction.

  At that moment, the main doors of the anomen flew open, and hooded white-covered figures poured into the nave.

  Charyn could easily make out the long chant.

  “Free Rholan from false faith! Drive out the cowardly choristers! Drive them out! Drive them out!”

  For an instant, Charyn froze. He’d never expected anything like what he saw and heard. Then he turned to Lystara. “We’ll need that concealment now. We’re leaving by the side door.”

  “Yes, sir.” After a slight hesitation, Lystara said, “We’re concealed. Stay close to me.”

  The three turned and walked swiftly to the side door. The two guards scrambled to follow. Once the five were in the side hall, Charyn saw that two figures in white stood at the end in front of the door closest to the main doors … and to the coach.

  Charyn looked behind them, then said quietly, “There must be a door back there.” He turned, and Lystara turned with him. Dhuncan, the second guard, motioned for the others to precede him, but Dhuncan still stayed close to Lystara, just behind Charyn.

  There was an outside door, some ten yards farther along the corridor, solidly barred, which was likely why the True Believers hadn’t entered that way. Charyn unbarred it and opened it gingerly, one hand going to the pistol in his jacket. But the door opened onto a narrow stoop below which was the stone paving surrounding the anomen. No one was close by.

  When everyone was out, Dhuncan closed the door, and Charyn looked for the unmarked coach. He didn’t see it at first, but finally saw that it had been moved farther around the circle, and the driver stood on the seat looking one way and then the other.

  “There’s the coach,” said Charyn. “There’s no one close to it.” He glanced back at the main entry to the anomen, where still a score of white-clad True Believers continued to chant.

  “Not yet,” said Lystara. “We need to run.”

  “Then we’ll run,” said Charyn.

  The five began to run.

  Charyn was glad that the chanting was loud enough that no one could hear the sound of boots on pavement. Once they neared the coach, Charyn said, “When we get within a few yards of the coach, drop the concealment so that Staavyl can see us, and he doesn’t drive off.”

  “Tell me when,” replied Lystara.

  After several moments, Charyn said, “Now!” Then he called out, “Staavyl, get ready to start as soon as we’re in the coach!”

  “Yes, sir!” The driver dropped down into the seat.

  “Move ahead, Parrtyn,” said Dhuncan. “Get the coach door open quick, and then swing up back.”

  Parrtyn nodded, then rushed ahead and opened the coach door.

  Then Charyn heard shots, one after another, and Lystara staggered.

  “Get … in the coach,” she gasped. “I’m all right. But hurry.”

  Another shot rang out, and Staavyl slumped in the driver’s seat.

  “Get inside!” snapped Dhuncan. “I’ll drive.” The guard scrambled up to the driver’s seat, and Parrtyn opened the coach door.

  “To Imagisle! It’s closer and safer,” said Charyn, as Parrtyn closed the door behind Lystara.

  The coach began to move immediately.

  Charyn looked to Lystara. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not hurt, but I’ll have some bruises tomorrow, I think.” She turned to Aloryana. “Are you shielding?”

  “I am.”

  “Good.”

  “Just yourself,” added Lystara.

  Charyn looked at the anomen, but all he could see as he looked back was the group of True Believers around the doors of the anomen, still apparently chanting. So who was shooting at you … and why?

  There hadn’t been any overt threats, unlike the last attempts … unless the white belts had been a threat … or had they been a warning? Charyn had certainly gone out of his way not to offend anyone unnecessarily, including the True Believers. But why were the True Believers there? Was that why Saerlet had been so discomfited? And then there was the question of why the True Believers were so angry at Charyn. What have you done to them? Besides be Rex?

  Charyn didn’t have any answers to that.

  He kept looking out the coach windows, but no one seemed to be following them, although Dhuncan had the coach moving at a rattling and almost bone-jarring speed, a speed that slowed once the coach was perhaps half a mille from the Anomen D’Rex and approaching the bridge to Imagisle.

  It felt like a glass passed before Dhuncan brought the coach to an abrupt stop in front of the Maitre’s dwelling. Charyn immediately got out and looked up to Dhuncan. “How is Staavyl?”

  The burly guard shook his head. “He was dead before I reached him.”

  In moments, Alastar was hurrying from the dwelling to the coach, followed by Alyna.

  “What happened?” asked Alastar, looking from Charyn to Lystara and then back to Charyn.

  “The True Believers burst into the anomen in the middle of Saerlet’s homily. Lystara shielded and concealed us and we ran to the coach. Someone, maybe more than one, shot at us. Lystara’s shields kept most of us safe, except for Staavyl. He was the driver. I told Dhuncan, who took over, to come here. Here we are.”

  “How are you?” Alastar asked his daughter.

  “I’m fine. I’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow. I think seven or eight shots hit my shields.”

  Alastar winced, but said, “Two rifles then. Most of them have five-shot magazines.”

  “It looks like I won’t be attending services for a while,” said Charyn as dryly as he could manage. “I’ll need to be unpredictable when I leave the Chateau.”

  “That might be for the best,” replied Alastar. “You’ll need two imagers to ride back to the Chateau with you. Whoever shot at you likely knows you came to Imagisle, and they might be waiting at the bridge. I’d suggest taking the east bridge from Imagisle and then the Nord Bridge over the Aluse. That’s longer, but they likely won’t have enough people to cover the east bridge.” He looked back to Lystara. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “I had Aloryana look me over to make sure nothing got through the shields. I don’t have any wounds or sharp pains.”

  “You’re pale. Go inside and get something to eat.” The Maitre looked to Aloryana. “Go with her and make sure she eats … and you do, too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once the two had left, Alastar asked, “Do you have any idea…?”

  Charyn shook his head. “That I’ve been attending services was in the newssheets. That was why I tried to be unpredictable as to where I’d be. I guess I wasn’t unpredictable enough.” He paused. “But…” He didn’t know what else to say. Then he added, “Over the past two weeks, I received two white belts. There was no message either time. Just the belt. I didn’t know whether they were a threat or a warning.”

  Alastar frowned. “They sound more like a warning.”

  “But how would I know?”

  “That’s a good question. Could it be someone who wanted to claim they warned you … in case you weren’t hurt?”

  “I suppose so, but I don’t know who that might be.”

  “Put that aside for now. Could the shooters or whoever was behind them be someone who was upset by what happened to Ryel?”

  “It could be, but who? Outside of Karyel and Iryella, no one in that part of the family is left alive, and Uncle Ryentar’s son … he’s only something like eight. And it’s seven months later.”

  “But it’s only been in the last month that you’ve been that visible outside the Chateau.” After a moment, Alastar asked, “What about Argentyl and the guilds?”

  “I sent him a missive last week requesting he meet with me on Lundi. I haven’t heard back.”

  “You may not.”

  “They’d shoot me over the artificers’ standard?”

  “Didn’t Argentyl say
that some wouldn’t be happy? They’ve destroyed four warehouses and goods in almost ten other factorages.”

  “That many?” Even as he asked that, Charyn wondered how Alastar knew so much more than he did.

  “Most likely even more. That number came from the Civic Patrol on Vendrei.” Alastar turned to Alyna. “Are you up for a ride to the Chateau D’Rex?”

  “You don’t…” began Charyn.

  “The last thing Solidar needs is another assassination,” said Alastar. “For whatever reason. I’ll also send a messenger to the Chateau immediately letting them know you’re fine. We have to saddle up, but there’s always a duty messenger.”

  “You and your guards need something to eat and drink also,” added Alyna.

  More than half a glass passed before the coach and the two imagers, riding guard, left Imagisle by the east bridge, taking the East River Road up to the Nord Bridge, and then, on the far side of the River Aluse, the Boulevard D’Ouest to the Ring Road and the Chateau D’Rex.

  That ride was much longer and slower than the ride to Imagisle had been, and Charyn kept looking at Staavyl, his body wedged into the rear-facing seat.

  How did that happen? And why Staavyl? Just to stop the coach so that they could get to you?

  Yet, as he thought about it, he hadn’t seen anyone with a rifle near the True Believers, and the True Believers hadn’t even been looking in the direction of the coach. But that didn’t mean that someone involved with them hadn’t been hiding somewhere and firing at him. And it had to be someone who knew that he used the unmarked coach.

  But there could be more than a score of people outside of the Chateau guards who know that.

  Just after the coach crossed the Nord Bridge, Charyn began to smell smoke. He looked out the right window. He didn’t see any sign of smoke there, but that might have been because of the dim twilight. He looked to the other side, but, again, saw nothing.

  He was still pondering all that had happened when the coach headed up the drive to the rear courtyard of the Chateau.

  Charyn was barely out of the coach when both Maertyl and Faelln appeared, a clear sign that the imager messenger had delivered word about what had happened at the Anomen D’Rex.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  “I’m fine. Maitre Lystara saved all of us—except Staavyl. His body is in the coach. Maitre Alastar and Maitre Alyna were kind enough to accompany me back to assure my safety.” Charyn turned and looked at the two riders. “Once again, I find myself in your debt, and especially in Lystara’s debt. She handled herself … like an imager.”

  Alyna smiled. “She will be sore tomorrow. Taking that many bullets on a shield at once does leave bruises. But it also reminded her that accompanying you and Aloryana was anything but babysitting.”

  “I suspect it also gave Aloryana some more incentive to work on shields and concealments.”

  “That, too,” added Alastar.

  After the two imagers rode down the drive, Charyn turned toward the rear door to the Chateau. He still could smell a faint odor of smoke, but he’d seen no sign of fire on the rest of his ride.

  21

  Charyn was up very early on Lundi, early enough that Artiema was still star-accompanied. While the first thing he wanted to do was to talk to Guard Captain Maertyl, he didn’t, realizing that Maertyl couldn’t do what Charyn wanted until much later. So Charyn read Devoryn’s History of Solidar for a time, then forced himself through exercises, cleaning up, and eating breakfast before cornering Maertyl in the tiny guard study.

  “Yes, sir?” The captain was on his feet instantly.

  “I need you to send a few guards to find Chorister Saerlet and bring him here. While they’re there, whoever’s the lead guard needs to see what damage there is to the anomen and report back to me on that. Would you also send a responsible and perceptive guard to request the immediate presence of Chorister Refaal of the Anomen D’Excelsis? Finally, report Staavyl’s death to the Civic Patrol, if that hasn’t been done, and find out what, if anything, the patrollers have done.”

  “On the last, sir,” Maertyl said, “I reported it last night. There was only one patroller at headquarters. The others were either patrolling or searching for the men who set fires at two warehouses.”

  “So … no patrollers even looked into Staavyl’s killing?”

  “Your Grace … you own the anomen.”

  For a moment, Maertyl’s words didn’t seem to make sense. Then they did. “Finding the killer is up to the Chateau Guard, then?”

  “Yes, sir.” Maertyl sounded anything but happy.

  “I suppose we could request assistance from Marshal Vaelln, but I don’t see what good that would do at the moment.” Charyn paused. “Do you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you even know how he was shot?”

  “Yes, sir. He was hit three times. We found one bullet. It’s from a standard rifle, the kind we use, the kind the army uses, and…”

  “The kind used by the rebel High Holders?”

  Maertyl nodded, then said, “We’re not missing any rifles, and every guard and rifle was accounted for at the time Staavyl was shot.”

  “So it’s likely impossible that he was shot by a guard or a guard’s rifle?”

  “It appears that way, sir.”

  “When will the memorial be?”

  “Late Meredi afternoon. At his anomen. That’s where his wife wanted it.”

  Charyn nodded. “I’d like to attend.”

  “Your Grace…?”

  “I’ll think about it. You’ll have someone bring back Saerlet right away?”

  “I’ll send one of the lead guards with five men.”

  “Thank you.”

  After he left Maertyl, he stopped by Norstan’s study.

  The seneschal bolted to his feet. “Your Grace!”

  “Have you heard any word from Argentyl?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Let me know immediately if you do.”

  “I will indeed, sir.”

  As he made his way up to his own study, Charyn considered the fact that someone had been setting warehouse fires at the same time as the True Believers stormed the Anomen D’Rex. Had the protest been planned at a time when civic patrollers were elsewhere? Had those men who set the fires just felt that no one would be expecting an attack at the time when many people would be at evening services? Had the attempted assassination already been planned and had the protest just been a fortunate coincidence for the shooter? Or an unfortunate one because Staavyl had been forced to move the coach? So many questions, and not a hint of an answer.

  When he approached the study door, Moencriff said, “Your Grace, I put a letter on your desk. A messenger just brought it from Factor Elthyrd.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn had a very good idea about its contents. He wasn’t surprised in the least as he sat at the table desk and read.

  Your Grace—

  Word may not have yet reached you, but over the past several days, there has been more destruction of manufactured goods, and three warehouses have been set afire. If you already know of this, please accept my apologies for the repetition.

  This destructive behavior cannot be countenanced. Factors are losing their livelihood, and their workers are losing their positions and wages. The Civic Patrol seems unable to catch those who are involved in this despicable and treasonous destruction. Therefore, the Factors’ Council is now offering substantial rewards, up to ten golds, for names and proof of action against factorages and warehouses.

  If this does not provide the necessary information to put a stop to these acts of willful destruction, the Factors’ Council will be forced to take much stronger action, and the Factors’ Council wanted you to be aware of our position.

  Charyn lowered the missive. He had a very good idea what measures the factors might take, given that at least some of them had their own armed guards. The Factors’ Council had already decided on what they were going to do well before Elthyrd wro
te. Charyn also had the feeling that the reward scheme had been Elthyrd’s, in hopes of finding who was behind the fires and destruction. But since protecting their own property was certainly their right, until they did something more than that, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. Which is exactly the problem.

  The fact that he could do so little immediately reminded him of Bhayrn, who always wanted to act strongly and immediately … and like their father, without considering the ramifications.

  Rather than worry over what he couldn’t do, or Bhayrn, he turned to a lesser worry, a letter from High Holder Fhaedyrk about the proposed law to reduce or at least limit the contamination of rivers and streams caused by manufactorages. Charyn read over the paragraph that was central to the High Holder’s concern.

  … understand fully the problem if every new factorage or use alongside a stream fills the water with waste, but the law, as proposed, makes no provision for existing and long-standing facilities …

  Charyn shook his head. Grandfathering existing facilities without any conditions would encourage those individuals to expand while placing higher costs on newer factorages. What about allowing older facilities to exist for a time before complying? Maybe require a fee for them instead until they do?

  He was still mulling over the possibilities when Moencriff rapped on the door.

  “You have a package from Factor Estafen, sir.”

  A package? Charyn frowned. What could Estafen be sending him? He thought for a moment. It had to be something concerning the ironworks.

  It was indeed—a report from Engineer Ostraaw addressed to Factor Suyrien and forwarded by Estafen, the bulk of the small package being everything that surrounded the document, clearly to separate “Suyrien” from the Rex. Charyn read through the short report, his eyes taking in the key phrases.

  … orders for more than two hundred rifles received on Vendrei from the Solidaran Factors’ Council, accompanied by a deposit of two hundred golds, the balance of eight hundred and twenty golds to be paid in coin immediately upon delivery … delivery to be no later than Six Erntyn …

  Attached is a map of the property. As you requested, I have noted the two locations where a manufactorage might be placed without disturbing either the ironworks or the rifleworks …