Charyn nodded, even as he thought that the exercise of law by regial fiat would need to be changed, in time, to exercise only by consent of the Council. You need to make a list of what needs to be changed, and why and when … a written list so that you don’t conveniently forget in the months and years to come. “When you return to the Chateau, I’ll need you to work on a listing of the crimes for which a worker, a crafter, or a factor can be put to death. I’d also like some numbers on how many have been executed for those crimes. I’ll need to know whatever you can find by midday tomorrow.”
The Minister of Justice frowned.
“I’m certain that at least some High Holders will protest the forfeiture of most of the lands of High Holder Laastyn.”
“I did inform you that, while you are within the scope of the Codex Legis—”
“I know, but just because there’s no hard proof that Laastyrn was involved,” or even more than the flimsiest circumstantial evidence, “doesn’t mean that two generations weren’t involved. Besides, Laastyrn gets to keep property and his life, just not the High Holding. He should count himself fortunate.”
“What will you do with the lands, Your Grace?”
“Sell them off over time and put the golds in treasury reserves so that we’re not caught the way we have been the last two years when unexpected expenses came up. The last thing this Rex needs is more lands.” A manufactorage or two, but no more lands. “Ghaermyn’s heirs can keep the main manufactorage.”
“What about Aevidyr’s lands? You took that out of the decree.”
“He’s not a High Holder. His life is payment enough. The lands will go to his wife and their children.”
Sanafryt frowned.
“My grandsire didn’t do right by Aevidyr. It didn’t justify high crimes and treason, but I’d rather not punish any innocents.”
Sanafryt nodded slowly. “I’d heard something…”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself, for their sake, not mine.”
“I can do that, Your Grace.” He stepped back. “I need to get these to the High Justicer.”
Not more than two quints later, Moencriff stepped into the study. “Maitre Alastar is here with two craftmasters, Your Grace. He said you wished to meet with them.”
“I said that some time ago, but I would like to meet with them and the Maitre.”
“Yes, sir.” Moencriff opened the study door and gestured.
Alastar led the way, but stopped once the three were several yards from the desk. “I believe you’ve met with Argentyl before,” said the Maitre, nodding to the dark-haired man on his right, “and Gassel said he’d come because someone had to look out for the interests of the stonemasons.”
Charyn very much appreciated Alastar’s deft introductions and gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Please sit down.” Then he turned to Argentyl. “I’m glad to see you survived your … disappearance. I do wish we’d been able to talk sooner.”
“It didn’t seem useful then, Your Grace. Didn’t seem safe to stay in the city, either.” He paused to seat himself, then said, “The Maitre said you wanted to see us. Why now?”
“If you’re willing, I’d like for you two to attend Council meetings every month, starting in Finitas. If either of you don’t wish to undertake that task, I’d hope you could recommend two other craftmasters who would.”
“What would be the point?” demanded Argentyl.
“There’s no one on the Council to speak for the crafts and workers. I’ve noticed that the High Holders became a bit more flexible and open to making things better,” only a bit, but we have to start somewhere, “when they have to express themselves in front of factors and when they heard what the factors’ concerns were. I’d like the same thing to happen over time for crafters as well.” After a pause, Charyn asked, “What do you have to lose?”
Argentyl looked to Gassel.
The stonemason cleared his throat, then said, “They’ve never listened before, Your Grace.”
“They haven’t had to listen with the Rex sitting at the end of the table,” Charyn pointed out. “Or the Maitre of the Collegium.”
Alastar nodded very slightly.
“You did impose the two-copper law,” said Gassel slowly. “It’s not much, Your Grace, but no Rex has done anything before. I’d be willing to give it a try.”
“Why not this month?” asked Argentyl.
“Because the Council meets on the eighteenth. That’s only five days away, and I need a little more time than that for the Council to realize that they don’t have a choice and that they’ll have to accept hearing how what they want to do, or not do, will affect crafters and workers.” After another pause, Charyn added, “You’ll also get to hear what problems they have, and, just like you, they have problems, and you might be able to give them a different view.”
“What’s in it for you, Your Grace?” pressed Argentyl.
“If the Council can work out things, then I’m less likely to do something that will make everyone angry, or someone so angry that they’ll shoot at me again or try to shoot someone else … or burn down something. When that happens, everyone loses.” Charyn smiled wryly. “Especially me.”
The faintest smile creased Gassel’s face, but vanished immediately.
“I won’t press you more than I have,” Charyn said, “but I think your presence would help. I don’t say it will be easy, but you would help.”
“I’ll try it,” said Gassel.
Argentyl nodded, then said, “Can’t hurt to try.”
“The meeting is always at the first glass of the afternoon on the eighteenth of the month.” Charyn nodded toward the table. “Over there.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” said Gassel deferentially, “is it true what the newssheets said, that you shot your brother left-handed?”
“Yes, it is. He pulled out his pistol and tried to kill me. I was a little faster.”
“Do you always carry a pistol?”
“I’ve found it necessary. I wish it weren’t.” Charyn managed a pleasant smile. “Do either of you have any other questions?”
“Not right now, Your Grace,” replied Gassel. “Might think of a few right after we leave.”
“You can always ask me later. Thank you for coming and being willing to be at the Council meetings.” Charyn stood.
The others did as well.
“Will we see you on Solayi?” asked Alastar.
“If you’re willing to walk slowly to the anomen,” replied Charyn with a smile.
“We can manage that.”
After the three had left the study, Charyn waited a quint, then made his way down to the small guard duty room, hoping Maertyl or Faelln was somewhere near.
Maertyl was. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Your couriers have delivered a few letters to the L’Excelsis estate of Lady-heir D’Shendael. I’m afraid I have no idea where that might be, but I’d like to take the unmarked coach there at around third glass.”
Maertyl smiled. “I have several guards who know where it is. I think four guards will be sufficient now.”
“Thank you.”
A glass later, Charyn was in the unmarked regial coach as it headed along the Boulevard D’Ouest toward the Nord Bridge. He watched as the coach crossed the Nord Bridge, then immediately turned north on the East River Road, which shortly curved away from the river. After several hundred yards, Dhuncan turned the coach left down a narrower road. Ahead on the left was a three-story structure a mere thirty-five yards across, behind a walled front garden and before equally walled rear grounds. On the south side of the property was an open gate, with a sentry box for a single guard. Beyond the gate was a drive that led to a covered portico.
The guard stepped out of the box, clearly surprised.
“Rex Charyn is here to see Lady-heir Alyncya D’Shendael,” announced Dhuncan.
“Ah … she didn’t say anything…”
Charyn leaned out the coach window.
“She surprised me the last time. Turnabout is fair play.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll announce you.” The guard did not quite run up the stone-paved drive.
Dhuncan eased the coach through the gate and up the stone-paved drive to the covered portico. By the time Charyn stepped out of the coach, High Holder Shendael was standing just outside the portico door, smiling.
“Welcome, Your Grace. I do believe you have completely surprised my daughter. If you’d join me in the parlor, she should be with us shortly.” His eyes dropped to Charyn’s splinted and half-bound right hand. “How is your hand?”
“The worst of the soreness is gone … unless I bump something.”
Shendael led the way to the parlor, then gestured for Charyn to enter.
The parlor walls and ceiling were a blue so pale that it was almost white, offset by cream chair rails and crown moldings, while the parquet floor was largely concealed by a carpet several shades of blue darker than the walls with a border design of scallops. The two love seats and four armchairs were of simple goldenwood and upholstered in blue and cream silk. The side tables were of matching goldenwood.
“Tastefully simple and quite beautiful,” observed Charyn.
“Thank you. Alyncya had it redone several years ago. The colors and design were all her idea.” Shendael took one of the armchairs. “She runs the holdings as much as I do, maybe more these days.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise Charyn. He settled into another armchair. “It’s elegant, but also restful.” How could it not be elegant if she designed it?
“I must say that you two surprised me,” offered the High Holder.
“Oh?”
“As you have discovered, Alyncya is very quietly strong-willed, and, from what I’ve observed, few men of position and power are naturally attracted to such women.”
“I was instantly attracted to her the second time I danced with her.”
“And that’s one of the reasons why I asked him to marry me,” interjected Alyncya as she entered the parlor. “You’ll notice, Father, that he said he was instantly attracted the second time.”
For a long moment, Charyn just looked at her, taking in her face, eyes, and the smile she offered, as well as the tailored blue jacket and trousers, and the cream blouse. “But I remembered what you wore the first time.”
“With a little help, as I recall.” She settled herself into the vacant armchair closest to Charyn.
Charyn offered a sheepish smile. “That’s true, but I was struck enough to write down what you wore.”
“What other young ladies received such notes?” teased Alyncya.
“You were the only one whose dress and eyes I noted.”
“At the third ball, he remembered every word I’d said at the second.” Her lips quirked in rueful amusement.
“That’s quite a compliment, dear,” returned Shendael. “You’ve told me that most men don’t recall what women say after a glass.”
“It was a frightening compliment,” admitted Alyncya, “and I told him so.”
Shendael looked up to the liveried man who stood in the parlor doorway. “Could we interest you in a little refreshment, Your Grace? You’re partial to white wine, as I recall.”
“That would be wonderful,” admitted Charyn. “Until now, it’s been a long day … and a long week.”
“Two white and one red, then.” Shendael nodded to the server, who turned and left the parlor. “Might I ask what will happen to those involved in the plot?”
“Those directly involved will be executed. The High Holdings, but not all properties, of Laastyn and Ghaermyn are forfeit. They likely wouldn’t have been able to hold them anyway, given how much in tariffs and penalties they owed.” That was a guess on Charyn’s part, since Alucar was still trying to discover all the properties not on the tariff rolls that should have been.
Shendael shook his head. “We’ve always been conservative. Something like that makes me grateful for that heritage.”
“That conservatism is why you’d never need to be in that sort of position,” Alyncya pointed out.
“Stripping a family of its High Holding won’t set well with some of the High Holders,” said Shendael.
“Trying to assassinate the Rex and cheating on tariffs for a decade doesn’t set well with me,” replied Charyn pleasantly.
“I imagine they weren’t the only ones.”
“No, they weren’t. That’s why the Finance Minister is revising property and tariff records. Interestingly enough, the factors aren’t any better, and their records are also being updated.”
“You’re likely to have everyone unhappy with you.”
Charyn shook his head. “Not if people think it through. I might not have had to increase tariffs if there hadn’t been so many cheating. The honest High Holders and factors were supporting the dishonest ones.”
Shendael laughed, a low almost growling sound. “I’d be wary of putting the word ‘honest’ close to most High Holders or factors.”
“Perhaps I should say ‘law-abiding’?”
“It’s more likely closer to the truth.”
At that moment, the server returned with three goblets of wine, presenting the tray to Charyn first. He took one of the whites and waited until the others had their goblets before lifting his slightly. “Thank you.”
When Charyn took a small swallow of the wine, he found he really didn’t feel like drinking it, but he took another very small swallow anyway.
“It’s our honor,” replied Shendael. “I never thought I’d see the Rex in my parlor, let alone find him affianced to my daughter.” He smiled and looked fondly at Alyncya. “That is the proper way of saying it for your purposes, is it not?”
“It is, and thank you.”
“Do you two think you can wait until Year-Turn?”
“Considering that, at one point, she said she didn’t want to have another conversation with me until then, I’m more than happy with the present and much improved situation.”
This time, Alyncya was the one to blush. “I told you he has a very good memory.”
“You did indeed.”
After less than a quint of light conversation, Shendael rose. “I’ll leave the parlor to you two, at least for a time.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Once Shendael had left, Alyncya turned to Charyn. “You see. He’s not so bad once he knows you.”
“Once he knows that I’m most serious about you.”
She smiled. “There is that.” The smile faded. “You still hurt, don’t you? I saw how you walked.”
There’s some hurt that’s not physical. Charyn managed a smile. “I can see that there’s still very little that escapes you. It’s not as bad as it was…”
“You also barely drank the wine. Are you eating much?”
“I haven’t been that hungry…”
“Bhayrn’s death … or your having to shoot him … that’s been hard on you, hasn’t it?”
“What else could I have done? It would have gone on and on. Bhayrn never saw … never … understood…” Charyn shook his head. “If it hadn’t been Laamyst and Gherard, it would have been someone else…”
“Charyn … that’s part of being Rex. You have to make the decisions.”
He gave a bitter smile. “My father didn’t. He left it to Maitre Alastar to take care of Uncle Ryentar.”
“Is that why you couldn’t?”
He nodded.
Almost a glass later, with the two seated side by side on one of the love seats, Charyn said, “I really shouldn’t overstay my welcome, especially since I came unexpected and unannounced. I can’t tell you how much…”
She put a finger to his lips. “You have already.” Then she said, “Unannounced, but … not totally unexpected. Earlier, though. I thought you might stop by tomorrow. But you’ve always been a little ahead of me.”
“Would you attend services with me on Solayi evening? At the Anomen D’Imagisle?”
“As
I’ve suggested before, you don’t strike me as a very religious man.”
“I’m not. Some of the principles offered by some choristers are good guidance, but … if I go to services there, I can see Aloryana and have refreshments after services at the dwelling of Maitre Alastar, because Aloryana lives with Maitre Alastar and Maitre Alyna and their daughter Lystara. Lystara, by the way, saved me and Aloryana from the assassination attempt on me. I think you should meet them all, since, except for Mother, they’re largely the family I have left…” Charyn grinned. “At least until we’re married.”
“I’m also not that religious, but I’d very much like to attend services with you.”
“Then, I will arrive here with the coach at a quint past fifth glass on Solayi.” Smiling widely, Charyn stood.
So did Alyncya, turning in to him and drawing him to her, her lips on his.
After a very long embrace, she stepped back. “Solayi, just after fifth glass.” Before he could reply, she added, playfully, “And not too early, either.”
Charyn smiled ruefully, then nodded.
64
Charyn returned to the Chateau early enough for dinner on Vendrei evening, a dinner that included only himself, Karyel, and Iryella, since Chelia had left word that she was indisposed, as she had also been on Jeudi evening. Charyn had checked with Therosa to make certain his mother was in fact eating, and Therosa confirmed that Chelia was eating some of what was brought up to her, but not much.
That was something Charyn could definitely understand. He still didn’t feel all that hungry.
After they sat down at the table and when Iryella said the grace, Karyel immediately asked, “How long will Aunt Chelia stay to herself?”
“Until she doesn’t,” replied Charyn. “That’s up to her. This week has been incredibly difficult for her.” And that’s understating it. But there was no way Karyel would understand. Charyn knew that even he couldn’t feel all that his mother felt, not after losing her husband and knowing that her elder son had shot her younger son—all in less than a year.
“Seems silly to me—”
“Karyel!” snapped Iryella. “You cried for days when Mother and Father died.”
“I don’t remember.”
Endgames Page 59