Endgames

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Endgames Page 22

by L. E. Modesitt Jr


  24

  Even by fourth glass on Samedi afternoon, Charyn knew little more than he had after attending Staavyl’s memorial service—except that another factorage had been attacked late on Jeudi night and the looms smashed, while another warehouse that held imported porcelain had been set afire before dawn on Vendrei.

  Charyn couldn’t say that he was exactly looking forward to the dinner that evening with the “local” High Holders, but his father had avoided social interactions with all but a few High Holders, and, in the end, that had not served Lorien well, which might have been a contributing factor to why a number of High Holders had supported his young brother Ryentar during the High Holders’ revolt. That, and the fact that Ryentar had apparently been both charming and in favor of restoring the powers of the High Holders.

  Will more socializing with them serve you any better? He had no idea, but trying it might result in better results, and couldn’t result in much worse.

  When Charyn made his way down the grand staircase to the anteroom at slightly past fifth glass, both Ferrand and Elacia were there, Elacia also being Ferrand’s dinner partner, since Ferrand couldn’t bring an unrelated unwed woman unless they were officially affianced.

  “The string players are here and setting up, Your Grace,” Elacia announced.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is Alyncya accompanying her father?” asked Ferrand.

  “Their response indicated that,” said Elacia.

  “You’re fortunate in that,” said Ferrand.

  “Not so fortunate as you think,” replied Charyn.

  “He can’t make a single untoward move or a single suggestive comment, or even a single unguarded gaze,” declared Elacia, her words clearly as much for Charyn as for Ferrand.

  “And I couldn’t exclude Shendael from a dinner for High Holders living around L’Excelsis.” For more than a few reasons.

  “I didn’t think about that,” admitted Ferrand.

  “You should have, dear,” said Elacia gently.

  As Elacia headed for the archway into the music room, Ferrand said in a low voice, “I’m glad you’re the one she’s advising.”

  “I did tell you that you’d rather have your problems than mine.”

  “You might be right about that.”

  “Are you going to pursue Kayrolya D’Taelmyn? Or Marenna D’Almeida?” Charyn grinned.

  “You arranged the seating at that little dinner, didn’t you?”

  “Only with your mother’s assistance.” After a pause, Charyn said, “Well?”

  “They each have their charms.” Ferrand smiled wryly and added, “And they’re both younger daughters from good families with at least several siblings.”

  Meaning that Ferrand would be seen as a good match, rather than scorned for his father’s financial problems.

  Before that long the chimes were ringing sixth glass.

  The first arrivals were High Holder and Lady Fhernon. Fhernon smiled broadly at Charyn. “Good evening, Your Grace. We appreciate the invitation.”

  “And I’d like to express my appreciation for your kindness to Ferron,” added Lady Fhernon.

  “How could I not be kind? He has demonstrated a quiet determination, honesty, and good taste.”

  “We still appreciate it.”

  The next arrivals were High Holder and Lady Laevoryn. He was a young man perhaps five years older than Charyn, with sandy-blond hair and eyes of blue so dark that Charyn couldn’t recall ever seeing that shade before. To Charyn, the blond and gray-eyed Lady Laevoryn scarcely looked that much older than Aloryana, although she must have been.

  “It is indeed a pleasure to be here,” offered Laevoryn. “Thank you for including Dercya and me.”

  Charyn thought he heard a hint of cold amusement in Laevoryn’s voice, but replied warmly, “I became Rex rather suddenly, and I fear that I’ve lagged slightly in getting better acquainted with the High Holders in and around L’Excelsis. I am attempting to remedy that slowness. Welcome … and please enjoy yourself.”

  “Thank you. We certainly will.”

  Charyn managed not to frown as he turned to greet another High Holder—with his wife—he had not really met before—Ghaermyn, although he wanted to, given Bhayrn’s friendship with Ghaermyn’s eldest son. After that came High Holders and ladies, one after the other—Aishford, Taelmyn, Kastyl, Paellyt, Quensyl, and then Fyanyl, without his lady.

  High Holder Shendael and Alyncya finally arrived.

  “I’m so glad to see that you are healthy and well, Your Grace.” Alyncya looked directly at Charyn.

  For instant, he just looked back into her hazel eyes, before finally saying, “I am healthy and well, Lady-heir Alyncya, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciated your letter of inquiry and concern.” And he certainly couldn’t, not at that moment.

  The faintest hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

  “As am I,” added High Holder Shendael. “Are there no other family members attending this evening?”

  “Only my aunt, Lady Delcoeur D’Priora, and my cousin, High Holder Delcoeur. My brother and mother have not returned from Rivages, and my sister is, of course, an imager.”

  “Of course. I had forgotten about your sister,” replied Shendael. “She did attend one ball, as I recall.”

  “The Year-Turn Ball,” replied Charyn, “just before she revealed she was an imager.”

  “She revealed?” asked Alyncya.

  “She is apparently quite talented, according to Maitre Alastar. If she works hard, it’s possible she might become a maitre in time.”

  “I had not realized that so many unrecognized talents lay in your line, Rex Charyn,” said Shendael genially.

  Not quite sure what to make of Shendael’s observation, Charyn smiled and said, “Nor did I, but comparatively young as I am, I’ve come to realize that unrecognized abilities may lie undiscovered in many lines.”

  “Quite so. Quite so, but we must not keep you.” Shendael eased his daughter away from Charyn and toward the far sideboard.

  After High Holder and Lady Almeida arrived and Charyn spent several moments with them, the very last arrivals were High Holder and Lady Laastyn. Laastyn smiled pleasantly, with a hint of warmth, and said, “It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you, Your Grace. We see your brother quite often, so often that it feels like we should have seen you more recently.”

  “I’m glad to see you both, and I appreciate your kindness, and that of Laamyst, to Bhayrn. He’s definitely enjoyed his times at your various properties.”

  “And we’ve enjoyed him. He’s very direct and forthright, a welcome trait in a world that has come to be one where it’s difficult to be certain whether what is said was really what was meant.”

  “Bhayrn often does say exactly what is on his mind.”

  “Would that more did. Being oh-so-polite and politic often keeps people from addressing the hard necessities in life.”

  “But it sometimes also keeps people from hatred and violence,” suggested Charyn.

  “At the cost of hypocrisies that fester and often lead to greater problems, and even less attention to necessities.”

  “Except one man’s necessities are often irrelevant to another,” replied Charyn.

  “Do you find them so, Your Grace?” asked Salani, breaking her silence.

  Charyn offered a short humorous laugh. “I can afford to find nothing irrelevant, even if I may not be able to do much about some matters.”

  “We all must prioritize, Your Grace.”

  “So we must.” Charyn nodded, adding, “Please enjoy yourselves.”

  Once Laastyn and Salani, his largely silent lady, moved away, Charyn took a glass of Tacqueville white presented by a server, then started to move toward three couples—High Holder Taelmyn, High Holder Paellyt, and High Holder Quensyl, each with his lady. He had only taken two or three steps when High Holder Ghaermyn eased up to him.

  “Your Grace, if I might have a
word…”

  “Certainly.” Charyn wondered what Ghaermyn wanted, but suspected it must be urgent or important, because seldom was anything of import directly discussed at such functions, at least not openly. Either that, or Ghaermyn was attempting to take advantage of Charyn’s relative inexperience.

  “It is not widely known, but I am in a position similar to that of one of your relations…”

  What relations? Most of Charyn’s relations were either dead or too young to be anywhere similar to Ghaermyn. Except … “You refer to High Holder Zaerlyn?”

  “I do. I have a number of manufactorages. These facilities build looming frames that are powered by waterwheels.”

  “Then has the drought made it so that fewer factors and others buy your frames?”

  Ghaermyn shook his head. “Not yet, but the weavers and spinners are unhappy. I fear some of them may be among those destroying the frames and looms in the large manufactorages.”

  “But if the frames are being destroyed, would that not mean you can sell more?” Charyn had an idea of where the discussion was going, but he wanted Ghaermyn to lead it there.

  “There have been several attacks on my main manufactorage. I have been required to hire a small army to protect it, and to spend golds on buying rifles to arm them. Even so, one small outbuilding was set afire and destroyed. These ruffians would bring down everything. If they are not stopped, Solidar will crumble and be forgotten like the Naedarans.”

  Charyn nodded, although he had his doubts about matters being that extreme. “There have been reports of a number of factors’ manufactorages having such difficulties. I did not realize that High Holders were facing the same problem.”

  “It is not quite the same problem, Your Grace. I can guard my buildings because of where they are situated, but the cost of maintaining the guards will make it infeasible to continue producing frames. If I do not produce them, the factors will not be able to replace what they have lost. So we both will lose, if in a different fashion.”

  “It would seem that you have common cause.”

  “As do you, Your Grace. Is it not your responsibility to maintain the peace in Solidar?”

  “I’ve thought about this, High Holder Ghaermyn. For me to guard all facilities and to track down these ruffians and malefactors will require either an expansion of the army or the expansion of the Civic Patrols in all cities and towns. That cannot be done, especially now, without increasing payments to the Civic Patrols or increasing tariffs, if not both.”

  “You’re saying you can do nothing?”

  “Everything costs coins. What would you suggest that I do?”

  “Make a law against such destruction.”

  “That law already exists. The problem is catching the malefactors and proving that they caused such destruction. No one who knows seems to want to reveal anything. They need a reason.” Charyn was trying to get Ghaermyn to suggest offering a reward.

  “I can see that,” replied Ghaermyn. “What about paying a bounty for such information?”

  “I understand that the factors are already offering rewards up to ten golds.”

  “My son mentioned that.”

  “Gherard? How did he come by that?”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “No, but my brother has. That’s how I knew his name. But how…”

  “He’s the one who handles the holding accounts at the exchange.” Ghaermyn frowned. “Perhaps a greater reward would elicit greater information.”

  “It might,” agreed Charyn. “If I did so, would that be something that High Holders and factors would support?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Charyn offered a wry smile. “When one asks for information and provides a reward for it, not all that is discovered may be favorable to everyone.”

  “I’ll live with that.”

  “You’ve made an interesting suggestion. Thank you. It will definitely help.”

  “That won’t be enough, Your Grace.”

  “You’re right. It won’t be, but it’s a start.” Charyn paused. “What do you think these men really want?”

  “To destroy us.”

  “Do you think that?” Charyn frowned. “From what some guild craftmasters have told me, it’s not the machines so much as the lower wages.”

  “I can’t pay more than what others are paying. It wouldn’t make sense.”

  “What if they had to pay what you did if you paid workers more?”

  “You’re talking as if the moons could become suns, Your Grace.”

  Charyn laughed gently. “You may be right, but there might be a way. I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Thank you for listening, Your Grace.” Ghaermyn eased away.

  Charyn continued toward Taelmyn, Paellyt, and Quensyl and their wives, trying to catch a hint of what they were saying. He noted again that Paellyt and his wife were considerably younger than the other two.

  “… years since any High Holders invited … formal dinner…”

  “… don’t worry … enjoy…”

  Taelmyn turned as Charyn drew closer. “Your Grace, we were just talking about how long it had been since a Rex hosted a dinner for High Holders who weren’t close friends or family.”

  “I’ve already done one of those, but the way my family and friends are vanishing, or removing themselves from L’Excelsis,” replied Charyn lightly, “I will have no one with whom to dine. How long has it been since you or anyone of your lineage has dined here—not including balls?”

  “I cannot remember.”

  “We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen again.” Charyn addressed Paellyt. “And you?”

  “I have no idea,” replied the High Holder, likely only a few years older than Charyn. “My sire never mentioned it.”

  “How about you, High Holder Quensyl?”

  “My grandsire dined here when I was a boy. He told me that there was music, and I’m delighted to hear the string quintet. Will there be a clavecin player? I’d heard that your father had a fine one, a woman, I believe? Good-looking as well, I heard.”

  “He did, indeed. Musician Palenya. Alas, I could not keep her. She preferred to accompany my sister. Palenya is now the musician for the Collegium Imago.”

  “Must have been a loss for you,” said Quensyl blandly.

  “Oh…” murmured Lady Taelmyn.

  Lady Paellyt frowned, but said nothing.

  “The Chateau will miss her playing,” said Charyn warmly. “She was a fine musician. She even managed to improve my playing, but at least now Aloryana can continue learning from Palenya, as can other imagers at the Collegium.”

  “Is it really true … about your sister?” asked Lady Quensyl.

  “That she is an imager? It is true. She seems quite happy at the Collegium…”

  After a short time that seemed interminable, Charyn moved on to a group that included Lady Almeida, High Holder and Lady Fhernon, High Holder Fyanyl, and Lady Ghaermyn.

  “Your Grace,” offered Lady Almeida, “the Tacqueville white is simply splendid.”

  “Thank you. It does happen to be my favorite.”

  Lady Almeida turned to Lady Ghaermyn. “Did you know that the Rex is an excellent clavecin player?”

  “You’re kind, but I’m merely competent, even for someone who isn’t a professional musician. My distant cousin, Maitre Malyna, is better than I am, as is Lady-heir D’Shendael, and, before long, I suspect, my sister will be as well.”

  “Lady-heir Alyncya is quite good, I’ve heard. But … you have a cousin who is a maitre imager?”

  “Two of them, actually. Very distant cousins. I didn’t find that out until last year when I was researching the background of the Codex Legis. That was when I discovered that the sister of the first Rex Regis happened to be the ancestor of both Maitre Malyna and Maitre Alyna. Maitre Alyna is the Senior Imager at the Collegium and also Maitre Alastar’s wife.”

  “Who would have thought it?” murmured Lady Ghaermyn.<
br />
  “I’ve heard that Maitre Malyna is quite young for a maitre,” said Lady Fhernon, “and quite good-looking.”

  “She’s also a very strong imager. She was the one who saved my life, Bhayrn’s, and Aloryana’s the night my father was assassinated.”

  “Why was an imager besides the Maitre even at the Year-Turn Ball?” asked Fyanyl in a tone that verged on annoyance.

  “As a favor to her father, High Holder Zaerlyn,” replied Charyn cheerfully. “There are a number of imagers who come from High Holder families. In fact, the head of the Collegium in Westisle is a powerful imager who is the younger son of High Holder Calkoran.”

  After perhaps half a quint of pleasantly voiced, not entirely pleasant conversation, Charyn eased away and, still keeping a smile on his face, moved toward another group, this one that held Ferrand, Laevoryn and his wife Dercya, and Kastyl and his wife.

  “Your Grace, it’s been said that your sister is an imager,” offered Laevoryn almost before Charyn joined the group.

  “That’s no secret. She is an imager, and she lives at the Collegium.”

  “You let her go there?” asked Dercya incredulously, her voice breathy.

  “She chose to go. Where else could she be an imager?”

  “But … how terrible,” continued Dercya, “for a Rex’s daughter to have to be an imager. To be … with people … who are not of her … background. And some of them, I’ve heard, are even Pharsis.”

  “She is living with Maitre Alastar and his wife Maitre Alyna, who is the daughter of a High Holder. Her brother is High Holder Zaerlyn.”

  “At least … that’s more proper,” breathed Dercya.

  Charyn couldn’t resist adding, “High Holder Zaerlyn comes from a Pharsi background, and so did the first Rex Regis.”

  “I’m curious,” offered Laevoryn smoothly, before Dercya could speak. “What do you think of Maitre Alastar? You have met him, haven’t you?”

  “I have. He attends the balls, and I met him when I accompanied Aloryana to the Collegium.” Charyn was a little surprised that Laevoryn didn’t seem to know that Alastar attended the Council meetings. But then, that’s never really been made much of publicly. “Have you met him?”

 

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