Unless what? That he’s playing for time? Time to do what … and more important … how? And who is orchestrating it? Aevidyr? Ghaermyn? Laastyn? Bhayrn himself? Or someone else you haven’t even thought of?
Charyn’s problem was that it could be any or all of them, or, less conceivably, but also possibly, none of them. After eating early and alone and then going to his study, he sat behind the goldenwood table desk, pondering those questions, what he could do to determine who was doing what and who wasn’t, and then … occasionally looking to the open window and the gray sky beyond.
He was startled out of his contemplative mood by Alucar’s arrival.
The Finance Minister walked to the other side of the desk and set two sheets of paper on the polished wooden surface. “Your Grace, here is the proposed notice to send to High Holder Laastyn.”
Charyn motioned for Alucar to sit down, then took the documents and began to read them, looking for any possible flaws or concerns. He didn’t see any. He handed them back to Alucar. “What about High Holder Ghaermyn?”
“The clerks have not visited his factorages yet. They’re farther south on the east side of the river.”
“Have one clerk visit them all tomorrow and document how many he has. Then draft a letter of inquiry, asking why he hasn’t paid tariffs on the ones that aren’t on the rolls.”
“Yes, Your Grace. What do you want me to do with the notice to High Holder Laastyn?”
“Send it in the usual manner.”
Once Alucar had left, Charyn wondered what Laastyn’s reaction would be. To ignore the notice for a time, to reply in a manner that constituted stalling, to have Bhayrn bring up the matter with Charyn, or to pay the back tariffs on the untariffed property and provide the information on the recently acquired timberlands? The reaction, or the lack of it, might reveal something. And then it might not.
At that moment, Wyllum hurried in and seated himself at the end of the conference table. “Unless you have something else for me, sir, I thought I’d continue making that copy of your father’s biography for the family archive.”
“Thank you. I should have done that earlier.” Like more than a few things.
Wyllum settled himself at the end of the conference table and resumed work on the copy.
Roughly a quint later, Sturdyn announced, “Lord Bhayrn to see you.”
“Have him come in.”
Bhayrn hurried in and closed the door, but stopped just inside the study. “Is it all right if Laamyst, Gherard, and I use the plaques room this afternoon from a bit after first glass for a while? Likely no longer than to fourth glass. I’ve asked Mother, and she isn’t using it, but said I should ask you to make sure.”
“You can use it. I appreciate your asking.”
“Thank you.” With that Bhayrn was gone, almost as if he didn’t want to talk to Charyn.
Charyn wondered about that, since Bhayrn had been much more effusive lately. Was his brother going to revert to being confrontational again?
When Alastar arrived at second glass, Charyn sent Wyllum to see if he could help Chelia with recopying the invitation list to the Year-Turn Ball, something that his mother had asked if Wyllum could do when Charyn did not need him. Then Charyn waited until Alastar was seated, letting Alastar open the conversation.
“Your request to meet was worded in an unusual circumlocution. Matters of mutual benefit?”
“That was one way of putting it. The problem is that there are too many possible conspirators, or combinations of conspirators.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve found out about High Holders who’ve managed creative ways to avoid paying their full tariffs for almost a decade, but there’s no evidence to connect them to those who might have arranged it. Chorister Saerlyt was enriching himself, then fled in what appeared to be terror right after the first shooting. And now, Bhayrn has been most conciliatory and friendly in the past week or so. He’s gone very much out of his way, and he’s refrained from making statements that would antagonize me. In the past, he’s acted in almost the opposite fashion.”
“Perhaps the last assassination attempt?”
“Perhaps … except the first three or four didn’t seem to have much effect.” Charyn paused. “What do you know about Minister Aevidyr?”
“Absolutely nothing except that he’s been the Minister of Administration for well over ten years and that he’s had nothing at all to do with the Collegium. Why?”
“He’s managed to acquire a significant amount of property during that time, in a way that suggests the property was sold to him for a nominal cost in return for various favors, but in a way where the evidence is at best circumstantial and at worse nonexistent. There’s also no sign of gifts from wealthy relatives.” Charyn wasn’t counting the initial “bequest.”
“That has been known to happen with high officials without … careful supervision.”
Charyn did not speak for a time. Since Alastar did not break the silence, Charyn finally did. “Who would gain by having the True Believers blamed for the shootings, or if they’d been successful, my death?”
“Just about anyone well-known who would otherwise be a suspect, as I’m certain you’ve already determined.”
“I fear I’m going to need your help. The problem is that I don’t know when because this … plot … if it’s even that…”
“Do you trust the Chateau staff?”
“Now … far more than anyone else in the Chateau, except my mother and Aloryana, and probably Minister Alucar.”
“Why do you trust him?”
“He hasn’t enriched himself, and he’s never hesitated to tell me what I didn’t want to hear. Also, he’s very cautious, and he documented every time my father blocked his recommendations for improvements. Also, he has the most to lose if something happens to me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Beyond what I’ve told you, I have to admit that it’s the way I feel.” Charyn shrugged. “I know I could be wrong, but if Alucar is scheming he’s doing it in a way that has so far benefited me and Solidar and not individual High Holders or factors.”
“That’s the most effective way to scheme.”
“So … I should be wary of him as well?”
“As Rex, there’s no one you shouldn’t be wary of. How wary depends on the individual.” Alastar pursed his lips. “You seem to know all of those who may be involved. Why don’t you just act against them? You have the power to do that. Why aren’t you?”
“Because I don’t know who else might be involved.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.” Charyn paused. “I hate the idea of being arbitrary and acting on what almost seems to be suspicion.”
“Even if it means your own death?”
Charyn winced at Alastar’s blunt question.
“Even if it means chaos and a Rex under the thumb of the High Holders?” added Alastar. “You want power more broadly distributed, and you’re clearly working toward that. You’re not there yet, and it will take you years, if not longer. No one else but a Rex can do that. Could your brother? Could the next in line after him? That’s High Holder Regial, and he’s not even of age yet. He’s also from a very traditional lineage, and possibly one not even legitimate, to put it mildly.”
“So … I’ve dithered too long, just like my father?”
An almost embarrassed smile appeared on the Maitre’s face. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, and he never would have been able to ask a question like that.”
“Then I’m about to ask for another favor. I’m going to escort you to the study door, where I’ll tell you good-bye and then ask Sturdyn to fetch my brother—immediately. As soon as Sturdyn heads off, and isn’t looking at you, I’d like you to return to the study under a concealment and sit over there by the table as a hidden witness.”
“What are you hoping for?”
“That he’ll lose his temper and reveal something when I really press him.”
&
nbsp; “And if he doesn’t?”
“Then that will tell me something else.” Something much worse, most likely.
“There’s quite a risk to this, you understand?”
“Any greater risk than getting shot again, which is bound to happen if I don’t do something?”
Alastar’s first response was a sardonic smile. “What if your brother is as clever as you are?”
“Then that will confirm what I suspect.”
“I presume you want me to shield you.”
“Only if it appears necessary.”
“You trust my judgment?”
“If I can’t trust you, then I’ve already effectively lost.”
“You do know how to make a point.”
Charyn stood. “Shall we?”
Alastar just nodded and rose from the chair.
The two walked to the study door, Charyn slightly in the lead. He opened the door wide and stepped out into the corridor, then turned to the Maitre. “Thank you for coming, Maitre. I appreciate your doing this on short notice.”
“The Collegium likes to help where it can, Your Grace.”
Charyn turned to Sturdyn, but before he could say anything, the guard spoke. “Your Grace … Lord Bhayrn asked if he could bring his friends to see you once Maitre Alastar left.”
For an instant, Charyn didn’t know what to say. “I need to see Bhayrn by himself first. Immediately. He said he’d be down in the plaques room. His friends can stay there while I talk to him. In fact, they should definitely stay there. So you’d best check with either a guard officer or the lead guard before you ask Bhayrn to join me.”
Sturdyn’s face turned impassive. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I’ll be fine here,” said Charyn firmly, stepping back into the study, but not closing the door.
“Yes, sir.”
Alastar took a step toward the grand stair, then said to Sturdyn, “Go ahead. You’re younger and faster.”
“Thank you, Maitre.”
Charyn noticed that Sturdyn did not look back. He smiled wryly, then waited until Sturdyn neared the grand staircase. By then Alastar had vanished.
“I’m behind you,” the unseen Maitre declared.
Charyn closed the study door.
“This could prove interesting,” murmured Alastar.
“Too interesting.” Charyn settled himself behind the desk, but slightly back, so that he could move easily if necessary.
Almost a quint passed before Maertyl announced, “Lord Bhayrn,” and stepped inside with Bhayrn. “Would you like me to stay, sir?” The words were not a question.
“I’d appreciate it, Guard Captain, if you’d wait outside for a bit. I need a brotherly talk with Bhayrn.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Charyn. “But the Chateau might have visitors.”
“Undercaptain Faelln is seeing to that, sir.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as the study door closed, Bhayrn glanced at the open window, then took three steps toward Charyn and stopped. “What the frig are you doing, Charyn? Have you gone out of your mind? I’m your brother. I’ve been looking out for you when you haven’t been looking out for yourself.”
“I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking out for me. Always inquiring as to the way I rode to Imagisle … being surprised, almost disappointed, when I did something different from what you thought I’d do.”
“I was just concerned.” Bhayrn offered a sneer. “Not that you ever cared.”
“I cared a great deal. I wanted you to be a successful High Holder. I even picked out the very best of the regial lands for you. You wouldn’t even make more than a token effort at learning enough to handle a holding—and then you got angry about it and stomped off to Rivages like a spoiled brat.”
“And I’m supposed to be grateful for the crumbs you dole out?”
“One of the best holdings in Solidar is more than crumbs.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t understand anything. You never will.”
“You mean how I don’t understand how you’ve been played by your so-called friends, who’ve been playing you, even as they’ve been played by someone else.”
For just an instant, a hint of puzzlement crossed Bhayrn’s face. “You’re the one being played. You’re being played by the Collegium and the High Holders, and you don’t even see it.”
Charyn laughed. “You have a strange definition of being played. You’re the one who’d end up being played by Laastyn and Ghaermyn. You’re already being played, with all of them flattering your ego and telling you how they need a more traditional Rex and how unfortunate it is that your foolish older brother is Rex. Do you really think they even give a copper about you? All they want is an obedient Rex who won’t question them, one who won’t look into how they’re defrauding the Rex on their tariffs or how they’ve bought off most of the justicers in Solidar, or how they’ve pushed younger sons into regional governorships so those younger sons can loot the treasury. Or even how they likely arranged for Elthyrd’s beating so that the most intransigent factor would succeed him on the Council. You’re blind to that, but then, you’re blind to most things you don’t want to see.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Did you really think that I’d buy that phony story about why you tore up Chorister Faheel’s letter? Concern about me? Hardly. The concern was that I just might have gone over to the anomen and realized that your friends had created their own group of True Believers, with rifles. And if you became Rex, the way you all schemed, you’d have used the army against those True Believers and claimed everything was their fault. Wasn’t that the reason for the white belts? Another touch to make sure Maertyl knew it had been the True Believers all along.” Charyn well knew that the True Believers were anything but blameless, but the moment wasn’t right for rhetorical fairness.
For a moment, Bhayrn gaped, as if he knew nothing about the belts, then immediately retorted, “They killed people, and they shot at you, and you don’t see that?”
“What I see is that Ghaermyn and Laastyn and a few others infiltrated the movement to use it to get rid of me and replace me with a puppet Rex easily manipulated by flattery. You’ve been used, Bhayrn, and you’re too full of yourself and too stupid to see it. Everything’s always someone else’s fault. It’s never your fault. Even Aloryana worried about that, and Mother’s been worried about your self-centered willfulness for years.”
“Keep them out of it.”
“Why? They’re part of the family. They see the same things I do. But you never listen to anyone who tells you what you don’t want to hear. You just get mad, or you smile and pretend to listen. I don’t know which is worse. So I’ll make it very simple. You’re not going to be Rex … ever. In fact, once everything comes out about your friends…”
“I may not be Rex, but neither will you!”
Bhayrn only had the pistol half out when Charyn shot him full in the chest. His mouth opened. “Your hand…”
“I saw more than you ever thought. You saw less. I practiced left-handed as well.” Charyn shot him a second time, just as the study door opened.
Maertyl gaped for a moment as he saw Bhayrn sprawled face-first on the carpet, the unfired pistol not that far from his outstretched hand. “Are you all right, Your Grace?”
“I’m fine … except…” for being betrayed by my own brother. “You’d best lock up Bhayrn’s friends. If they so much as raise a hand, shoot them.”
“They’re already disarmed, Your Grace.”
“Good. Leave some guards here, but go restrain Minister Aevidyr. He’s not to leave the Chateau.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charyn turned to the corner. “Maitre.”
Alastar appeared.
A grim smile crossed Maertyl’s face. “You were protected.”
“I didn’t need to shield him, Guard Captain,” said Alastar. “He took care of the problem himself.”
�
�You’d better go, Maertyl. I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a squad of brownshirts wearing white hoods outside already.”
“We sealed the doors when Sturdyn came down. They’ll hold against cannon, and the company Marshal Vaelln had standing by is in place in and around the Chateau.”
“Excellent. Once everything’s calm … we’ll need to take care of … Bhayrn.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll deal with it.”
Once Maertyl had left the study, Alastar stood and walked over to the desk. “You could have let him shoot at you.”
“No,” replied Charyn sadly. “I couldn’t. If anyone asks, I’ll say I reacted without thinking. That will be a lie. The last time a younger son who plotted rebellion was allowed to live, thousands died. You were right.” His smile was lopsided. “I have to be seen as both fair and cold. You need to stay around for my meeting with Aevidyr. But now … I need to see Mother.”
Charyn stood slowly, setting the pistol on the desk. He’d almost forgotten he still held it.
“It might be best if I accompanied you at least to her door,” suggested Alastar.
“You’re right. Thank you.”
Sturdyn fell in behind the two men as Charyn walked to the door of Chelia’s sitting room.
Charyn knocked, then opened the door, and stepped inside.
Chelia stood, looking out the window. Charyn’s eyes followed hers. Several bodies, clad in white gowns and hoods, lay sprawled on the drive and on the garden paths beyond.
Chelia’s face was pale as her cold blue eyes met his.
“Bhayrn tried to shoot me. He never realized that I’d practiced left-handed. I’m sorry. I truly am.” Not so much about Bhayrn, but for you. And that was something he really couldn’t say. Not at the moment, perhaps not ever.
“You didn’t have any choice. Not after what happened with your uncle Ryentar.”
“I tried to show him…” But not well enough.
“Charyn … I understand. More than you may ever know.”
Endgames Page 56