Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Charyn stepped out. “Marshal.” He wasn’t about to offer “Good morning” as a greeting.

  “Your Grace.” Vaelln inclined his head.

  “Is it far?”

  “Behind the headquarters. No more than fifty yards.”

  “Then we should go.”

  “You know, Your Grace, as I wrote you, it isn’t necessary…” began Vaelln.

  “High crimes aren’t necessary, either, but since I ordered their death, it’s almost the same as though I were the one carrying out the execution. That’s why I’m here.”

  Vaelln paused, as if he might contest that, then asked, “Do you wish to speak to the condemned?”

  “They cost me my brother and caused the deaths of other innocents. They would have destroyed Solidar had they been successful. I have nothing to say to them. Nor, as I wrote you, do I wish them to be able to say anything. That also may not be customary, but it is my command.”

  “That has been arranged as you instructed.”

  Neither of the officers spoke as the three walked across the stone pavement alongside the building, followed by Dhuncan and another Chateau guard, whose name Charyn couldn’t recall at the moment. Ahead of them, a full squad of troopers, all the men wearing black uniforms, was formed up ten feet from the courtyard wall.

  Vaelln stopped slightly back and to the left of the squad, as did Luerryn, Charyn, and the two guards. At that moment, Charyn finally recalled the name of the second guard—Dulaak.

  The five stood there silently.

  Charyn’s eyes went to the eastern sky, slowly brightening.

  A drumroll began, echoing off the stone wall, and to his right, Charyn could see more troopers in black, a pair escorting each of the condemned men, each prisoner gagged with his hands tied behind him, followed by a single drummer who stopped well short of the squad of troopers. As the drumroll continued, the troopers lined up the five a yard from the section of the wall faced head-high with bales of hay. Laastyn stood at one end, flanked by Laamyst, then Aevidyr, Gherard, and Ghaermyn.

  None of the five seemed to notice either the Marshal or the Rex, their eyes on the troopers with rifles.

  As the first rays of sun flashed from the eastern horizon, Luerryn called out, “Ready arms!”

  Twenty rifles moved into position instantly and precisely. The drumroll stopped.

  “Fire!”

  In a moment, five men staggered, sagging, then collapsing and toppling to the stone pavement.

  Dulaak swayed slightly on his feet.

  A short, final drumroll echoed from the wall.

  Charyn couldn’t say that he felt anything, except that he’d seen it through to the end. Except it likely won’t be the end since the survivors from those families, some of them, anyway, will harbor bitterness and anger. He just hoped that the example kept that anger in check, as the slaughter at the end of the High Holders’ revolt had done.

  “Order! Arms!” commanded Luerryn. “To quarters!”

  As the firing squad marched away, Charyn saw a cart approaching, one that would take the five bodies to a single pyre, where only a fire tender would watch.

  Vaelln turned to Charyn.

  “Thank you, Marshal. I hope never to have to do this again.” But you will, if necessary.

  “We all hope that, Your Grace. Your firmness with High Holders may help in other matters.”

  Charyn just nodded.

  The five walked back to the regial coach without further words.

  Once there, Charyn turned to Luerryn. “I’d like to thank you as well, Subcommander.”

  “Your Grace.” Luerryn inclined his head.

  Charyn returned the gesture, then nodded to Vaelln. “Tomorrow, Marshal.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  With that, Charyn stepped up into the coach.

  On the ride back, he thought about the five traitors, the five he’d ordered killed … and the sixth, the one he’d killed personally. Deaths that were both necessary … and senseless.

  He wondered how many more High Holders would behave as if the laws didn’t apply to them. Have you set enough of an example?

  He could only hope so.

  Three quints later, when Charyn entered the Chateau, he made his way to the breakfast room. He wasn’t certain he was even hungry, but he did want some tea.

  Karyel and Iryella were seated at the table, finishing their breakfasts.

  “Where did you go this morning, sir?” asked Iryella.

  “To army headquarters to witness the execution of the traitors,” replied Charyn as he sat at the head of the table.

  “Why did you go?” asked Karyel. “Didn’t you trust the army?”

  Iryella rolled her eyes.

  Charyn looked squarely at the Ryel heir. “Because I made the decision that these men should die, I should be there to see that decision executed. Too many men order the deaths of others without seeing the results.” Unhappily, some men glory in causing death. “Too many High Holders think it can’t happen to them. So long as I am Rex, there won’t be two standards of law, one for those with wealth and power, and another for those with neither.” Even as he said the words, he wondered if he were promising too much. But you have to try.

  Karyel swallowed and looked away.

  Therosa appeared and placed a mug of tea before Charyn. “What else would you like, Your Grace.”

  “Just bread and a small portion of cheesed eggs, thank you.”

  He sipped the tea.

  He thought he could finish the breakfast.

  69

  When Charyn reached his study on Meredi morning, he discovered that both newssheets had put out special editions covering the executions on Mardi. As he almost always did, Charyn reached for Veritum first, reading the lead story warily.

  At sunrise on Mardi morning, five men were executed by firing squad at army headquarters. The five were behind the attempted assassination of Rex Charyn, and included High Holder Laastyn and his younger son Laamyst, High Holder Ghaermyn and his heir Gherard, and the Rex’s Minister of Administration, Aevidyr. The other main plotter was the Rex’s younger brother Bhayrn, who was killed in the attempted assassination …

  The regial decree finding the five guilty was reviewed and approved by High Justicer Sullivyr. The decree also revealed that the five had altered tariff records to substantially reduce the tariffs paid by the guilty High Holders … and possibly others. The amount of unpaid tariffs go back over eight years, and a fraction of what is owed would have merited the death sentence, although it has been more than a century since anyone has been executed for that crime alone …

  The Tableta story was similar, except for a few lines, which Charyn read with bitter amusement.

  … by his decrees of execution, our beloved Rex has at last and at least allowed the hand of Regial justice to fall almost as heavily on the privileged as it has for so many years on the less fortunate … a pity it took almost a year of attempted assassinations to encourage such a result …

  “The newssheets weren’t too bad, were they, sir?” asked Wyllum.

  “They’re close to what I expected. Tableta wasn’t quite as hard on me as it has been at times.”

  “Why do you think they’re so hard on you?”

  “They’re obviously not fond of people of position and wealth and power. As Rex, I have all three, if not as much of any of those as most people think.”

  Wyllum looked slightly puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

  “My wealth and power are in fact limited. Position—that I obviously have. But the fact that it took three years for my father and then me to get a very small increase in tariffs suggests that the power of the factors and the High Holders does restrict what I can do. Also, the attempts on my life point out that I’m anything but invulnerable. The wealth is limited because some of the income from the lands goes to the treasury, and these days, there are more demands on the treasury than available funds.”

  “I didn’t quite think of it
that way.”

  “It’s something I have to keep in mind. Speaking of that, do you have the copies of the new tariff appeal process for the councilors?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re in the folder at the head of the conference table.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn set aside the newssheets and looked again at Vaelln’s report. He had barely finished when Alucar arrived.

  The Finance Minister placed several sheets on the desk. “Here are the figures on the number of factorages visited and how many of those factorages should have been on the tariff rolls and were not. The figures below are those factorages owned by High Holders. All the High Holder factorages and manufactorages are on the tariff rolls, but the first group shows those that appear to be paying appropriate tariffs, while the second grouping contains those whose tariffs are likely understated. Now … all of these are just those in or near L’Excelsis.”

  “I understand. Would it be your opinion that elsewhere there would be more under-reporting?”

  “It would … except in Khel. That’s for the same reasons I told you the other day.”

  Charyn read through the figures quickly, and then again, more carefully, before finally saying, “You don’t offer any estimates on what additional tariffs will result from more accurate tariff rolls.”

  “No, sir. Without more information, it would be difficult to be accurate, other than to say that there will likely be some increased tariffs.”

  “In short, you don’t want me to offer some estimated number that may not be accurate because it will reflect badly on you?”

  “I don’t believe in counting golds until they’re in the strong room, Your Grace.”

  Charyn laughed softly. “And you certainly don’t want me doing that.”

  “No, sir. Another Rex wouldn’t value accuracy nearly so much as you do.”

  The double message of Alucar’s words almost brought a smile to Charyn’s face. “Then all I’ll say is that more accurate tariff records are bound to increase the amount collected in years to come, but by how much remains to be seen. That’s safe enough. Is there anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Then we’ll talk later.”

  When Alucar left, Charyn turned his attention to studying the material the Finance Minister had left. When he finished he leaned back in his chair, fingering the exchange pin in his pocket. He’d put it there when he dressed, thinking it might be helpful at the Council meeting, although he couldn’t have said why.

  Almost exactly as the chimes began to ring out the ten bells of noon, Moencriff announced, “Lady-heir D’Shendael, Your Grace.”

  “Do you wish me to leave?” asked Wyllum.

  “Not yet.” Charyn then called out, “Have her come in.”

  Almost before he finished speaking, the door opened, and Alyncya entered in a pale teal jacket, with matching trousers and scarf, and also wearing, as she often did, Charyn suspected, a cream blouse. Her dress boots were also teal.

  Charyn nodded as he stood from behind the table desk. Perfect!

  Alyncya looked to the scrivener. “It’s good to see you again, Wyllum.”

  “You’ll be seeing more of each other. In time, you will also likely need his services.”

  Wyllum’s eyes widened.

  “It hasn’t been formally announced,” added Charyn, “but that will happen this afternoon. Do you think you can keep it to yourself until then?”

  “Yes, sir … Lady-heir.”

  “Good. Now … if you wouldn’t mind telling Lady Chelia that Alyncya is here, and that you’re at my mother’s service until after the Council meeting.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alyncya smiled. “And … Wyllum, you can talk about the announcement with Lady Chelia. She already knows.”

  “Thank you, Lady-heir.” Wyllum grinned, then turned and hurried off.

  “He’s sweet, isn’t he?” asked Alyncya after the study door closed.

  “He works hard, always tries to do better, and is very dependable.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I didn’t. I asked Maitre Alastar for someone from Imagisle who wasn’t an imager who could be my personal scrivener.”

  “You’ve relied on him and Alyna a great deal.”

  “They’re more likely to have my best interests, and those of Solidar, at heart than anyone but you, Mother, and Aloryana.”

  “They will so long as your interests are those of Solidar.”

  “That’s true enough, but I don’t see me surviving as Rex if my interests aren’t close to what’s best for Solidar.” Charyn paused, then added, “And if I don’t survive as Rex, then one of our children will have to be Rex, rather than a very well-off High Holder.”

  “You’re very serious about that.”

  “Only with you. It will take much longer with others.” Decades, and that’s if you survive that long, which didn’t happen with either Father or Grandsire.

  “Then we’d better make sure everyone knows your interests are those of all Solidar,” said Alyncya solemnly, except with the last word, she started to giggle, then shook her head.

  “Obviously,” said Charyn dryly, “I’m taking myself far too seriously.”

  “A little, perhaps.”

  Charyn shook his head, then said, “You are staying for dinner.”

  “You’ve told me that twice.”

  “Alyna, Alastar, and Mother will be joining us.”

  “You didn’t mention Alyna.”

  “That was Mother’s idea.” It had been Charyn’s as well, but he didn’t see any reason to mention that. “So Alastar and I will be outnumbered.”

  “I doubt you two will ever be outnumbered.” Alyncya smiled sweetly.

  A quint before first glass, Alastar arrived, followed shortly by Vaelln, who looked momentarily surprised to see Alyncya.

  “Lady-heir Alyncya D’Shendael will be making a brief announcement to open the Council meeting,” said Charyn. “It’s a requirement for a lady-heir who wishes to hold her bloodright to bequeath as she wishes.”

  “It’s also rather rare,” added Alastar. “So we’ll all be part of something historic.”

  “Then we’ll move on to the more usual matters for a council to consider,” said Charyn, “beginning with your briefing the Council on the situation with Jariola. Have there been any surprises since the report I received on Lundi?”

  “There was a severe storm off Jariola a little more than a week ago. One second-rater and one frigate suffered severe damage to their rigging and are proceeding to the Abierto Isles for refitting. The repairs may cost as much as a thousand golds and will take more than a month.”

  Charyn winced. Just as you think things are getting better.

  “We’re also having trouble in obtaining enough rope of quality for lines. We used to get some from Stakanar, but rope isn’t that high-value a cargo, and with the privateers…”

  “The price of rope is going up?” asked Charyn.

  Vaelln nodded. “Marshal Tynan is doing what he can, but there’s a limit.”

  “Are the costs of oak or fir going up as well?”

  “Some factors think they might. There’s word that some High Holders have been buying prime timberlands where they can obtain them cheaply.”

  Charyn could have said more, but just nodded. “Mention the storm, but not the rope problem. If it gets worse, we’ll take that up at the next meeting.” There were going to be enough contentious matters for the day’s meeting as it was.

  “The councilors are all here,” declared Moencriff.

  “Have them come in.” Charyn moved to stand beside the head of the conference table, with Alyncya beside him, while Alastar and Vaelln stood before their chairs as the council filed in.

  Every single councilor immediately looked to Alyncya, then to Charyn. Hisario smothered a smile. The others were either impassive, or, in the case of Eshmael, clearly puzzled.

  Charyn and Alyncya remained standing as the others seat
ed themselves.

  “The first matter before the Council is an announcement by Lady-heir Alyncya D’Shendael.” Charyn nodded to her.

  “As a matter of public record,” Alyncya said firmly and distinctly, “I’m pleased to announce that I asked Charyn D’Rex to be my husband and that he accepted my proposal.”

  “I very gladly accepted,” said Charyn. “And because what has just happened is very rare, I will explain. For a lady-heir to be absolutely certain of retaining the rights to her inheritance, she must be the one to propose and announcement of that proposal must be made before the Rex or, if she proposes to the Rex, before the High Council.”

  “The High Council is pleased to witness the announcement,” declared Fhaedyrk, “and we wish you both the very best.”

  Both Charyn and Alyncya inclined their heads to those at the table, and then Charyn escorted her to the door, glad that she would be staying at the Chateau for a time after the Council meeting. When he returned, he seated himself at the head of the table.

  “That was something all of you should remember,” said Fhaedyrk. “It has happened only a handful of times in Solidaran history, only once with the regial heir, and never with the Rex.”

  A wry smile followed. “We are certain to see more memorable moments in the months and years ahead, some perhaps not so joyful.”

  “Now, we’ll hear from Marshal Vaelln,” announced Charyn.

  As soon as Vaelln finished his brief report, Chaeltar spoke up. “With all the bad weather around Jariola, why can’t you move more warships to protect our ships trading with the countries of Otelyrn?”

  “That would allow more Jariolan warships to leave their ports and also sail to Otelyrn,” replied Vaelln patiently. “That would cost us even more merchanters. We have much of their fleet blocked in their own ports because they know that every time they engage us, they lose more ships than we do.”

  “So our merchanters have to pay the price?” snorted Chaeltar.

  “I believe what the Marshal said, High Holder,” replied Hisario, “was that if he removes the ships around Jariola our merchanters will pay twice the price they are now. As one of those shippers, I prefer the lower of two costs.”