Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  When the sitting room door closed, Alyncya said, “I didn’t expect that.”

  “My mother can be very direct.” When necessary and it suits her.

  “You look tired and worn, but better than I’d expected from the newssheets and your reply.”

  “I had to struggle to write that, and I still have trouble even signing my name.”

  “Your signature was definitely wobbly.”

  Charyn looked directly into Alyncya’s hazel eyes. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you came here.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  Charyn shook his head. “I had no idea. None.”

  “You’re the Rex.”

  “If my mother told the guards she was expecting a caller, they’d log you in when you arrived. I’d find out after the fact, but not before. I would find out in advance about anyone questionable visiting anyone else, except my brother.” Charyn grinned. “Besides, I suspect some of the guards already knew your name. There have been a few messages sent to you by courier.”

  After a moment of silence, Alyncya said, “I had a very interesting meeting on Jeudi.”

  Charyn frowned. “You just spent time with Mother. Aloryana?”

  “Well, I suppose I had two meetings. They were both at Imagisle.”

  “Aloryana and Palenya, then?” Charyn managed not to wince.

  “I did tell you that I’d ask about her.”

  “You did. Should I be worried about how you feel now?”

  Alyncya smiled. “I like your question.”

  That surprised Charyn.

  “You’re surprised? What you asked says a great deal about you, dear. You’ve hidden nothing. Neither did Palenya. But you’re worried about how I might feel. You were right to worry. I worried. That was another reason I asked to call on your mother. I told you I’d ask her. I did.”

  “And?”

  Alyncya’s first response was an amused and ironic smile. “She said, if somewhat less directly, exactly what you told me. That was also what Palenya said. Even Aloryana said that Palenya had been good for you. So … you’ve been incredibly honest with me … or both women are so fond of you that they’ll say anything. And Aloryana is a bit like me, in some ways.”

  “I can’t deny they’re all fond of me, at this point, all in a mothering way, even Aloryana. I also doubt that any of them would say anything they didn’t believe to be true. Just as I believe you wouldn’t.”

  “You’d like to trust me, but I can’t believe you’re that certain.”

  “I’m certain you’re attracted to me, as I am to you. I’m not certain that’s enough for you. I am certain that your character is such that you’re not given to willful deception.”

  “You read me fairly well.”

  Charyn shook his head. “You’ve allowed me to read you well. I don’t see into people anywhere as deeply as I should. That’s one of the reasons why I set out to learn as much as I could about people’s actions, because too many people want to conceal what they want from a Rex. It seems to me…” Charyn wasn’t quite sure how to say what he felt, and the last thing he wanted to do was to say anything that would push Alyncya away.

  “It seems to you…” prompted Alyncya.

  “… that you … are uncertain about … that you don’t know … about marrying a Rex.”

  “I’m very uncertain about what being a Rex does to men. I don’t deny that, by the second time you asked me to dance, I wanted to know you better … much better. By now, if you were a High Holder, I’d have proposed to you.” She smiled. “Lady-heirs can do that, you know? It’s frowned upon, but not unheard of.”

  “But because I’m Rex…?”

  “From what I’ve seen and read, being a Rex can change a man, not for the better.”

  “I’ve seen that as well.” Charyn paused, then went on. “That’s one of the reasons I’m trying to change things. I’ve already created what amounts to a joint council of both factors and High Holders.”

  “I know. And I thought that the law that requires choristers to reveal what happens to their offerings was good. The daily-wage law … I can see that it was necessary…”

  “Remember … it’s only the minimum wage, and it doesn’t stop factors or High Holders from firing bad workers or paying good workers more.”

  “Why are you trying to change things?”

  “Because I don’t like what I’ve seen. The Rex has both too much power and too little power, and that makes governing close to impossible. But to give him more would lead to rebellion and disaster and to take away any more would make him ineffective.”

  A slight frown creased Alyncya’s brow. “How can you change that? Should you?”

  “I could be wrong, but I think it’s necessary. Two revolts in the last twenty years, and a Rex being assassinated, and now we’ve had manufactorages being burned and our merchant ships being plundered. Something’s not right.”

  “It just could be the last few Rexes.”

  “When there’s been no trouble like this for three hundred years? Somehow, I can’t believe that it’s just the Rexes, not by themselves.”

  “How would you change things? Could you?”

  “Give the Council more power and more responsibility. If the councilors have a part in changing things…” Charyn shrugged. “Some of that is just a feeling…”

  “But you’d still be Rex … Would they trust you?”

  “It will take time, but I’ve made a point of only promising what I know I can do, and keeping those promises. Before long, we’ll need a craftmaster or two on the Council.”

  “Neither the factors nor the High Holders will like that.”

  “It’s not a question of liking. It’s a question of listening. In just six months, I’ve gotten the factors and the High Holders to listen to each other. Sometimes, they even agree.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” she asked.

  “Everything.”

  Surprisingly, to Charyn, she smiled again.

  He waited.

  “Now, let me ask you a question.”

  Charyn tried not to tense up. “Go ahead.”

  “Are you ready to hear about my past indiscretions? The reasons why I’m still unwed, especially since I’m actually older than you are.”

  “I wouldn’t have known that.”

  “Not that much, just five months, but that makes me a spinster among the daughters of High Holders.” Another amused smile crossed Alyncya’s lips. “Are you avoiding the issue of past indiscretions?”

  “No. I doubt that whatever they may be will change my feelings for you.”

  “What if I told you that I’d done something truly horrible?”

  “That’s rather hypothetical. So, hypothetically, I’d say that, if you did, you must have had a very good reason. Besides, as a very practical matter, I’ve already done two horrible deeds, neither of which is exactly secret. So who am I to judge?”

  “You? Having a mistress isn’t horrible. Worrisome to your possible wife, but not horrible.”

  “My uncle and aunt both committed suicide. I forced them to it by declaring that, if they were found guilty of treason, the holding would be forfeit to the Rex under the law. They were guilty. They were behind the assassins who killed my father. But I wanted them to kill themselves so I wouldn’t have to seize the lands—”

  “Why?”

  “If I didn’t take the lands, I’d be seen as favoring my mother’s family and as weak. If I did, then I’d be punishing a fourteen-year-old heir who had nothing to do with it. If I seized the lands and then gave them back, the seizure would be seen as a charade.”

  “That is horrible,” said Alyncya evenly. “But not doing it that way would have been even more horrible.”

  “Now … about your despicable deeds?”

  Alyncya offered a sad smile. “What’s despicable is that I have none. Everyone who has lived life sooner or later does something despicable … or at least disreputable. I’ve been ver
y respectable and very careful … and that means I’ve done little.”

  “I can help you with that,” said Charyn. “Marry me. Then you can counsel me, and we can share deeds of all sorts. Some are bound to be at least dubious.”

  “No.” Alyncya stood and walked over before Charyn.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to do something my way. You know why.” Her eyes fixed on him. “As Lady-heir D’Shendael, I’m asking. Will you marry me?”

  “I will.” Charyn eased himself to his feet.

  Before he could put his arms around her, hers were around him.

  Another quint passed before Chelia knocked on the door, then entered to see the two sitting side by side on the love seat. “I take it that you two have decided.”

  “She asked me to marry her, and I said yes.”

  “You understand what that means?” asked Chelia.

  “The High Holding remains hers and is hers to bequeath.”

  “That’s definitely for the best, especially if you have a daughter. Now … the wedding ceremony shouldn’t be too soon.”

  “What about a small ceremony just before the Year-Turn Ball, on the thirty-fifth of Finitas?” asked Charyn. “Or would that be too painful?”

  “Avoiding appropriate dates for those less meaningful is an exercise in futility,” replied Chelia, almost tartly. “Also, it elevates meaningless tragedy. I would suggest that we keep the announcement and date within the families until you can announce it at the next Council meeting. Until Alyncya announces it, that is.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?” asked Charyn, looking to Alyncya. “That’s only ten days from now.”

  “Not so long as I can make the announcement,” she replied.

  “A formal announcement in a setting that no one can refute in order to make sure that your position as lady-heir is maintained?”

  Alyncya nodded.

  Charyn smiled. So did Chelia.

  58

  Lundi morning, well before dawn, Charyn woke, soaked in sweat, half-pinned in his sheets, still feeling that the bullet from the faceless guard had slammed into his skull. He shuddered, then blotted his face with a corner of the sheet, even before untangling it, and finally sat up in his bed.

  Why that nightmare now … a week after the shooting and right after Alyncya had turned down his proposal and offered her own? Her proposal amused him, as much as it told him that she certainly wouldn’t be a submissive wife. As if you ever wanted that.

  Was something deep inside his thoughts trying to tell him something? That he was in more danger since he and Alyncya had accepted each other? And why was the guard in the nightmare always faceless? Because you don’t really know who’s trying to kill you? Or because what you suspect may not be correct?

  After he cooled down and dried off, he propped himself up against the comparatively simple goldenwood headboard that he had chosen as part of the redecoration to replace the more ornate one used by his father. All his pondering over the next glass or so led to the same conclusion—that, while he knew a great many of the pieces to the puzzle, he had only a general and vague idea of how they fitted together, almost like trying to figure out the last tricks of a whist hand when he had no idea what tricks had been played before—an almost impossible endgame because there were so many variations. And if you play it wrong … not only could Charyn himself be killed, but Solidar could easily come apart with all the tensions and forces in play, forces that Bhayrn not only didn’t understand, but didn’t even see, forces that could easily pit crafters against factors, and factors against High Holders, while the True Believers fractured the worship of the Nameless.

  And yet … there was also so much promise … if you can not only figure it out, but play the right endgame … and thwart all the other endgames …

  Because he was awake early, he washed and dressed and had breakfast alone, hardly surprising, given that he was earlier than usual and Bhayrn never seemed to wake early.

  After that, he made his way to the study, where he was a bit chagrined to discover that Alyncya’s letters and poems remained on the desk where he had left them. The secrecy wasn’t nearly as important now that they were engaged, although some might quibble that it wasn’t formal until it was announced publicly. Still he replaced them in the folder and slipped the folder back into the hidden compartment.

  He knew he’d be rereading the contents more than a few times, since he wouldn’t have that many opportunities, if any, to be with Alyncya until the announcement at the Council meeting. Both his mother and Alyncya had made that very clear.

  Then he began to think about how he could resolve the problem with Aevidyr in a way that would work to his advantage and not to Aevidyr’s. He was still thinking when Alucar arrived.

  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

  “Good morning, Alucar. Are all four clerks on their way with army troopers?”

  “They are, sir, and Wyllum will likely finish the last of his copying this morning or early this afternoon.”

  “Excellent. Now … I went through that folder, rather thoroughly, and I’ve been thinking over the properties that weren’t on the tariff rolls. Would any of the clerks recall when or if changes were made?”

  “Most likely not that far back. Slaasyrn would have been the most likely, but now…”

  “He died right after I asked you to start updating the High Holders’ tariff records…” Charyn stopped speaking. Slaasyrn had died suddenly, supposedly because his heart failed—just after Alucar had begun the reassessment of High Holder properties. And Slaasyrn would have been the only one who could possibly have discovered sooner or later that the records had been altered, and he would have known exactly what had happened. But … three months later … how was there any way to prove that?

  Then Charyn looked at Alucar.

  The Finance Minister swallowed. “I didn’t even think…”

  “Don’t say a word to anyone. Not yet. Not until I tell you.” After several moments, Charyn asked, “Did Slaasyrn keep notes, or any kind of a journal?”

  “Not that I know of, Your Grace.”

  “Don’t mention anything about a journal or notes. If there is one, we don’t want it to disappear. I would appreciate your looking into that … immediately, but only you. Keep it to yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I also have another question. How are reassessments documented? That is, when a property owner buys or sells lands or factorages or whatever.”

  “A copy of the bill of sale is attached to the tariff assessment, and a copy of the notice of the change in tariffs due is also attached.”

  “Is there a separate record for the property, or only for the property owner?”

  “They’re the same record, sir. The documents go to the tariff file of the new owner. I suggested going to a system of dual entries…”

  “But my father refused?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So that means, if lands are missing from the owner’s tariff file, there’s no way to find them?”

  “If we know about the property, we can reassess it, the way you’re planning to do with the unrecorded factorages. Or, if we know the previous owner, the bill of sale and the tariff readjustment notice on his tariffs could be used.”

  “But you’d have to know one or the other?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s why—”

  “You wanted to change things, but, as you pointed out, it would take an army of clerks to accomplish that.”

  “Yes, sir. And with the tariff problem, and the hostility of the High Holders, it wasn’t something that your father wanted to confront.”

  Charyn could, unfortunately, understand that. “See if you can think up a way to do that over time with fewer clerks.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “For the moment, that’s all that I have.”

  Once Alucar had left the study, Charyn just considered the problem. Would there be any record of old readjustme
nts anywhere? Then he nodded. It was worth a try. He opened one of the hidden compartments in the bookcase and extracted a set of keys, which he set on the left side of the table desk.

  Given the timing of Slaasyrn’s death, and everything else Charyn had recently discovered, Aevidyr was definitely looking even sleazier than Charyn had already believed, and what he believed hadn’t been that favorable to begin with.

  Since he couldn’t do much at that moment, he turned his attention to the petitions on the desk and to Sanafryt’s suggested responses to each, putting the ones he approved of in one pile and the few he did not in another, much smaller, stack, which he’d go over with Wyllum.

  After a time, once it was well past seventh glass, he asked Sturdyn to request Aevidyr’s presence.

  The Minister of Administration arrived almost immediately.

  “Have you heard back from Rikkard D’Niasaen?”

  “Yes, sir.” Aevidyr’s smile was pleasant. “I was just going to tell you that he accepted the position and is on his way to Solis. If you’d like to see his letter of acceptance…?”

  “I would, thank you. And what about Thealyt D’Moeryn?”

  “A courier just delivered something from Khelgror.”

  “See if it’s from him and bring it and the D’Niasaen acceptance here. I’ll wait.”

  Less than half a quint passed before Aevidyr returned.

  The acceptance letter from Rikkard D’Niasaen was very much a polite and mannered response, except for the next to the last paragraph. Charyn read those words twice.

  In accepting and carrying out the duties of Regional Governor, I will do so not only in full accord with the Codex Legis, but will treat all personages with equal gravity, graciousness, and courtesy under law, and I offer my deep appreciation for both the honor and the responsibility entailed by that honor.

  In short, he’s going to treat factors and High Holders the same … and possibly even crafters. Charyn smiled wryly. That was going to be interesting. He needs a little support for that. “Aevidyr … I like Rikkard D’Niasaen’s reply. I think I’ll respond to it personally.”