Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “Likely a week. It might be less.”

  Just after Charyn stepped away from Alucar’s study and was heading back to his own, Aevidyr appeared.

  “Your Grace?”

  “What is it, Aevidyr?”

  “It’s about the regional governorship of Khel, sir.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’ve just received a letter from High Holder Nacryon. He indicates that he will be greatly disappointed if his brother-in-law—that’s Nuaraan D’Nualt, you might recall—”

  “If Nuaraan isn’t appointed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just write him back and tell him that a selection is finally in process. And, Aevidyr, if Nacryon or any other High Holder discovers anything before that choice has accepted or refused, I will expect your immediate departure. Is that clear?”

  For a moment, the Minister of Administration was silent. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Good.” Charyn smiled. “A number of High Holders may complain, but, in the end, most of them will be happier with my choices than theirs.”

  Once Charyn was back in his study, he read through the responses to petitions drafted by Sanafryt. With Wyllum now working for Alucar, Charyn had to write out the changes himself, not that he particularly minded.

  Marshal Vaelln arrived half a quint before first glass.

  Charyn gestured to the chairs and did not speak for several moments after Vaelln seated himself. “As you must be aware, Marshal, the violence in L’Excelsis hasn’t subsided in the slightest. From the reports I read, it continues at about the same level, but the anger of both workers and factors continues to grow. I think it’s now time to bring in the army to cool things down here in L’Excelsis. I may also have to bring in the army elsewhere, and I’d like you to inform Marshal Tynan of the possible need in Solis.”

  “I already have informed him of the possibility, Your Grace.”

  “I appreciate your forethought.”

  “We can prevent much of the violence and destruction, Your Grace. I doubt we can cool angry factors and workers by using force.”

  “Your presence will reduce the number of factorages and warehouses being destroyed, and that will cool down at least many of the factors. I doubt, as I suspect you do, that the army will be able to stop all the destruction.”

  “Then what, Your Grace?”

  “Under martial law, I can exercise more authority…”

  “You always could, without the pretext of martial law.”

  “That’s true, but pretexts are sometimes useful. I’ll use martial law to suspend all executions for those trying to fire or destroy factorages, unless, of course, they kill someone.”

  “Your Grace…”

  “Instead, they’ll spend five years in the navy galleys or in other service as you see fit. With more men and boys not getting executed, that might help. They’ll at least get fed. Combined with what else I’m putting in place, that might cool down some of the workers.”

  Vaelln looked more intently at Charyn, but did not speak.

  “The other support duty I’ll need from you is several squads who will support Alucar’s clerks in taking a census of manufactorages and factorages. It has become apparent that quite a number of factorages are not on the tariff rolls. It would seem fair to me, and it should seem fair to the factors, that if the army is to protect their property then all factors and factorages should be paying their tariffs…” Charyn could see the hint of a grim smile on Vaelln’s face.

  “I like the thought behind it, Your Grace. The factors won’t.”

  “No … but if they complain too much, who will support them? The High Holders won’t. They’ve insisted, with some justification, I’ve recently discovered, that there are a significant number of factorages and manufactorages not paying tariffs. The guilds and the crafters won’t mind seeing the factors pay what they owe…”

  “There is one difficulty. The army will have to be deployed mainly at night. That means two sets of duty rosters.”

  “Not so many as that. There are only likely to be two or three, possibly four clerks needing protection. Initially, wouldn’t a squad be enough for each clerk?”

  “Would you mind explaining the details of what you wish, Your Grace?”

  “Of course. The problem is that many factorages aren’t on the tariff rolls and others are only paying a fraction of what they owe…” From there Charyn went on to explain what he had in mind and how long it might take. Then he waited for Vaelln’s response.

  “Do you intend to maintain martial law for the weeks if not months this … census or these audits will take?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, but if it appears likely … well … if it appears likely, it may not be my problem.”

  “Do you think that’s a possibility?”

  “It’s a possibility. Anything’s possible. With the army in position, if necessary, I can also suggest that if the factors don’t start treating workers better I may have to take other steps.”

  “We’re already short of golds … and so are you,” Vaelln pointed out.

  “Minister Alucar’s numbers suggest that as many as two in ten factorages and manufactorages aren’t paying tariffs. That should bring in quite a few golds.”

  “You seem to have given this some thought.”

  “I’ve tried. How long before you could move army units into L’Excelsis?”

  “We’ve already worked out the plans, just in case. Easily by next Meredi.”

  “The fourth?”

  Vaelln nodded.

  “And the squads to protect the clerks could be ready then?”

  “Yes, sir. That part is the easiest.”

  “Then plan to begin the main army’s duties on the evening of the fourth, and the squads supporting the clerks on the morning of the fifth. We should meet again late on the afternoon of the third to go over matters. Say … fourth glass?”

  “Fourth glass.”

  “And you will inform me if we need to meet earlier in the event you discover some unforeseen problems?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Vaelln cleared his throat. “I might also suggest an extra company or at least a few extra squads be posted around the Chateau for a few days after you announce this.”

  “Surreptitiously, I think would be best.”

  Vaelln nodded, then asked, “Might I ask why you decided to involve the army now?”

  “By realizing that there wasn’t anything close to a perfect way out of this mess, only one that might be workable. I’m giving the factors what they asked for, but not quite in the way they demanded. They’ll get protection. By assuring that fewer rioters get executed, I’ll be seen perhaps as not quite so cruel, and by making sure the factors pay their fair share of tariffs, the High Holders won’t be outraged.”

  “Aren’t you letting the High Holders off more easily?”

  Charyn shook his head. “For the last three months we’ve been quietly auditing High Holders and increasing or decreasing their tariffs. That process will take several years, but unlike the factors, we know almost all the High Holders are paying tariffs at some level.”

  “The next few weeks will still be interesting.”

  “I know. And Marshal, you and you wife do need to be at the Autumn-Turn Ball.”

  Vaelln offered an amused smile. “I hadn’t thought otherwise, Your Grace.”

  “Then I will see you on Samedi.” Charyn smiled and stood.

  The smile faded once Vaelln left the study.

  Charyn knew that his plan was anything but perfect. But he had to do something, and what he’d put together was the best he could come up with. The question was whether it would be enough. He was still worrying when he entered the family parlor before dinner, half surprised to see Bhayrn waiting there for him.

  “Where were you this morning?” asked Bhayrn.

  “I had some business with an engineer,” replied Charyn. “It didn’t take long.”

  “What sort of busin
ess?”

  “About a naval matter.”

  “Shouldn’t you be leaving that to the Marshal and his engineers?”

  “As a matter of fact, I met with Marshal Vaelln just this afternoon.”

  “You still haven’t done anything about stopping the burning of factorages.”

  “That’s not quite true. There’s something in progress.”

  “Not more proclamations and useless laws, I hope.”

  Chelia entered the family parlor at that moment. “What were you saying about useless laws, Bhayrn?”

  “That we didn’t need any more of them, and that we need action to deal with the ruffians who are destroying factorages.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a partisan of the factors, dear,” replied Chelia sweetly. “I was under the impression that you’d be happy to have them all reduced to penury. Or does the fact that Gherard’s father has factorages have something to do with that?”

  “The workers and the factors deserve each other,” declared Bhayrn, “but the fact that they don’t follow the laws is intolerable. That’s why Charyn should just bring in the army and make them settle their differences right here and now.”

  “How do you propose I do that?” asked Charyn, half wondering if Bhayrn actually had a new idea, and half ready to dismiss whatever his brother said.

  “Just shoot every worker who tries to destroy something and tell the factors to stop causing trouble or you’ll increase their tariffs.”

  “While we could use higher tariffs,” agreed Charyn, “the factors would likely revolt if I imposed a blanket tariff increase on them.”

  “They’re not paying their fair share as it is. Everyone knows that.”

  “Everyone … or only the High Holders?” asked Chelia.

  “That’s why they’re getting richer and the High Holders are losing golds,” said Bhayrn.

  “That might be one of the reasons,” said Charyn. “It’s not the only one.”

  “How generous of you to condescend to accept my poor thoughts.” Bhayrn’s voice oozed sticky-sweet venom.

  “That will be enough, Bhayrn,” said Chelia. “Charyn said you had a point. Have the grace to accept it. Here come Karyel and Iryella. We will have a pleasant dinner.”

  “That we will,” agreed Charyn.

  “Of course,” said Bhayrn almost cheerfully, with such an abrupt change of tone that Charyn had a good general idea of what his brother was thinking, not that saying it would do anything but make Bhayrn wary … and that was definitely something Charyn couldn’t yet chance.

  49

  At just before seventh glass on Samedi evening, Charyn looked at the dressing room mirror, checking himself, even though he wore exactly what he’d worn to the last ball—regial formal greens, trimmed in silver, pale green shirt and black cravat, black trousers and boots, and, of course, the gold-edged deep green formal sash of the Rex. After a last glance, he left his dressing room and walked toward his mother’s study, worried, he had to admit, about a great number of matters. He wouldn’t have put it past Eshmael to create some sort of scene, or workers to storm the Chateau in protest of a ball when they felt they were underpaid, or use the evening to burn down more manufactorages. Then, he had hopes, but no idea how Alyncya’s meetings with Aloryana and Chelia might turn out …

  He pushed those thoughts aside as he rapped on the study door.

  “You can come in, Charyn.”

  His mother stood by the window, looking out to the southeast, not quite toward the river nor exactly toward the hunting park beyond the Ring Road. She wore the same gown of regial green trimmed in black she had at the Spring-Turn Ball and would do so at balls until after the Year-Turn Ball. “As always, you look most regial.”

  “It’s probably best that I do.” He grinned, but only momentarily.

  “You’re about to do something important, aren’t you? This coming week?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’ve either decided or are about to. You always get a bit more reserved when something weighs on you. You’re far better than your father, though, and we won’t even speak of your grandsire.” Before Charyn could comment, she went on. “Who do you plan to dance with in what order?”

  “As I told you. The first dance with you, the second with Aloryana, the third with Maitre Alyna, and the fourth with Lady Fhaedyrk.”

  “The fifth should be with Factor Eshmael’s wife.”

  Charyn nodded glumly, then said, “Alyncya after that, then Aloryana, so I can introduce her to Alyncya.”

  “While they’re talking, find another young woman to dance with, one you could conceivably marry.”

  “So people will speculate that Alyncya is merely the most favored instead of the only choice?”

  “Is she the only choice?”

  “I’m not terribly interested in anyone else right now.”

  “You need to keep your options open as long as possible. That will also protect Alyncya.”

  Charyn, unfortunately, understood that as well. More than a few people in Solidaran history had tried to force their agendas on the Rex through his wife or intended. “Shall we go?”

  Chelia nodded, and the two left the study and walked along the south corridor, across the landing at the top of the grand staircase, and then into the small sitting room that adjoined the grand ballroom.

  Charyn couldn’t help but think how empty the chamber felt, with just the two of them there. They really hadn’t needed to arrive that early, but Charyn’s father had always insisted. Old habits die hard. With that thought, Charyn smiled wryly, knowing that Bhayrn wouldn’t have that much trouble breaking the habit.

  His brother, in point of fact, had no problems transcending habit and past custom and, well past the half-glass, and the time when the players offered incidental music and guests began to arrive, the sitting room door opened, and Bhayrn entered, wearing greens nearly identical to those Charyn wore, but without a sash. “Am I presentable, Charyn, Mother, trussed up in greens for those young women who will have to settle for the younger brother and who can never hope to be more than the wife of a High Holder?”

  “A very well-off High Holder,” replied Chelia, “with absolutely no encumbrances on his holdings, unlike so many, like poor Ferrand.”

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know that I’ll be inspected like a bargain bull.”

  “You need a better comparison,” said Charyn dryly. “You’ve worn that one out.”

  “Pardon me for not having your gift with words.”

  “If I truly had a gift with words, you wouldn’t be grousing at what I said.” Charyn kept his tone light.

  “At least, I only have two obligatory dances.”

  “No,” replied Chelia with an amused smile, “you’re obligated to dance most of the evening, but, besides me, Aloryana is the only woman with whom you must dance. With whomever else you dance is your choice.”

  Left unsaid, but still hanging in the air, was the suggestion that Bhayrn choose wisely.

  As the chimes sounded eighth glass, the music from the players died away. Charyn nodded to Bhayrn, who led the way into the ballroom. Charyn and Chelia followed to the music of the “Processional of the Rex.” As soon as Charyn took a position before the dais on which the musicians were seated, Charyn gestured, and a brief fanfare followed.

  “Maitre Alastar D’Image, Maitre Alyna D’Image,” announced the Chateau herald.

  Charyn watched as the two, followed closely by Aloryana, approached him. Both nodded to Charyn, who inclined his head in return. Then the two maitres stopped and stood a yard or so to Chelia’s left, with Aloryana a pace back.

  Charyn could see several of the High Holders looking at Aloryana and then to him. He kept a pleasant smile on his face as he watched the entry of the High Councilors, followed by the members of the Factors’ Council of Solidar. Once the last of the factor councilors had been announced, followed by Marshal Vaelln and his wife, the orchestra began to pla
y, and Charyn turned to his mother, took her hand, and began the dance. Behind them, Bhayrn danced with Aloryana.

  “There were a few strained glances at Aloryana, but not many,” said Charyn.

  “More the fact that she wore a gown of imager gray, likely one from Alyna. The fact that she’s here and that you and Bhayrn dance with her will convey a different message.”

  “That we don’t reject imagers from our family or that the Chateau and the Collegium stand more closely together?”

  “Isn’t your goal to convey both?”

  Charyn couldn’t dispute that.

  After the very short first dance ended, Charyn eased his mother to Bhayrn, then turned to Aloryana. “Might I have the next dance?”

  “You don’t exactly have to ask,” replied his sister.

  Charyn grinned. “It feels better to ask.”

  “Just remember that with Alyncya. When am I going to meet her?”

  “In a while. I have three more obligatory dances.”

  “Maitre Alyna and who else?”

  “Lady Fhaedyrk and Madame Eshmael.”

  “Be charming. Why is Bhayrn so gloomy? He didn’t really want to talk at all. It’s like we’re strangers all of a sudden.”

  All of a sudden? He hasn’t written or seen you in months.

  “He never writes me back, either.”

  “He never was a letter-writer, and now, I think it’s dawned on him that he’s going to be just a High Holder, and he’s not pleased.”

  “Just a High Holder?”

  “I’m Rex, and you’ll end up as an imager maitre. I suspect he sees either as better than being a High Holder and having to run a holding and worry about golds.”

  “You worry about golds all the time. So does Maitre Alastar.”

  “Bhayrn tends to forget that.”

  Aloryana shook her head.

  As the music came to an end, she looked up at Charyn. “You won’t make me chase you down, will you?”

  “Absolutely not. I promised.”

  “Good.”

  Surprisingly, at least to Charyn, Ferrand appeared and asked Aloryana for the next dance, while Charyn gathered himself together and approached Alyna.