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by L. E. Modesitt Jr.


  “What are your concerns?”

  “We’ve all suffered as well. We’ve suffered more than the High Holders have, and we’ve been rebuffed on our tariffs being lowered.”

  While Lorien hadn’t mentioned that, Alastar couldn’t say that he was surprised. Although less secretive than his late sire, at times Lorien didn’t inform Alastar of matters he considered not of import to the Collegium. “That’s not all, is it?”

  “What do you know that you’re not saying, Maitre?”

  “Nothing. I only know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think I should know something else about the tariff situation. Or am I mistaken?”

  “The whole way tariffs are determined has been … shaky. It’s gotten shakier, rotten even … and now the High Holders are sticking us even worse.”

  “How so?” asked Alastar evenly.

  “I won’t be telling you what you don’t know … or should know. There’s two parts to tariffs. First part is the annual levy on the worth of the land, buildings, and property. That’s fixed for each High Holder. Doesn’t change. For factors, it’s two coppers on a gold’s worth of land or buildings. Second part is the levy on how much you make. That’s a silver and a copper on a gold, for us and for them.”

  Alastar waited.

  “There’s a passel of problems there, Maitre. First thing is that the High Holders have built factorages of their own on their lands.”

  “All of them?”

  “Enough. We build something new or add something, and the Finance Minister’s collectors make sure we get tariffed on it. Never happens, or almost never happens, when the High Holders do it. They can keep anyone they want off their lands. That’s part of that so-called low justice privilege they got. If that isn’t bad enough, they’ve come up with a way of not reporting all of what they make.”

  “How is that?” asked Alastar, intrigued by Hulet’s revelations, and having the feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

  “When they sell stuff to other High Holders, lots of times, they don’t pay hard metal. They use bills of exchange, and they trade them among themselves, like the paper was golds. The Codex says tariffs get collected on the amount of golds, silvers, and coppers you make.”

  “And there’s no mention of bills of exchange?”

  “Not a word.”

  “What does Minister Sanafryt say?”

  “He says he has to go by the Codex Legis.” Hulet snorted loudly. “That’s not all, either.”

  “Oh?”

  “He claims that, even if the rex changes the Codex, the changes don’t take effect until next year’s tariffs are due.”

  “He’s right about that,” said Alastar. “Otherwise the rex could change tariffs the day before they’re due, and then charge penalties for underpayment.” Among other things.

  “Suppose that makes sense. Don’t have to like it, though.”

  “What do you propose?” Alastar didn’t feel like fencing.

  “Either reduce our tariffs or change the base tariff for High Holders. The way things are, they pay a lot less in tariffs than we do for the same buildings, lands, and profits.”

  “I can only advise the rex.”

  “He listens to you. May not like it, but he does.”

  “I doubt that he’ll reduce tariffs for anyone,” Alastar said evenly.

  “Then he’d best increase them for those blood-sucking High Holders, otherwise…”

  “Otherwise?”

  “There’s a lot more factors than High Holders. A lot more.”

  “I can only convey your thoughts and concerns, and I will.”

  “All I can ask. Right now.”

  Alastar was all too certain that the chief factor would be back … especially when it became clear how matters would likely develop. But then, Hulet doubtless already knew that and was laying the groundwork for later. “Is there anything else?”

  “Not for now. I’ve said my piece.” Hulet looked over his shoulder, in the direction of the door.

  “You’ve made the situation very clear, and I do appreciate that.” Alastar stood. “I wish you a good day, Chief Factor.”

  “Same to you, Maitre.”

  Alastar had hardly seated himself after Hulet had departed when Dareyn reentered the study with another envelope in hand.

  “This came by private messenger, sir. The messenger presented this and left. He said he wasn’t at liberty to disclose the sender.”

  Not at liberty to disclose the sender? Why would he say that when reading the missive would reveal that … unless it was anonymous. Alastar took the sealed envelope. Written in an elegant hand on the outside were the words

  ALASTAR D’IMAGISLE

  MAITRE D’IMAGE

  Alastar didn’t recognize the seal boldly stamped into the red wax. Finally, he opened it, careful to preserve the seal, and began to read.

  Maitre—

  The High Council has already informed His Grace Lorien, Rex Regis, of certain matters that may well affect the Collegium as well.

  If you are interested in these and other developments that may relate, I would be pleased to receive you tomorrow at first glass at the Chateau D’Council for an informal discussion, or, if that time is inconvenient, at any other time that is mutually agreeable.

  I look forward to your response.

  The signature was that of High Holder Cransyr, and the seal was that of the High Council. Alastar couldn’t help but wonder at the timing of the missive, arriving almost immediately after Chief Factor Hulet had departed. Suggesting that Cransyr knows exactly what the factors are doing.

  But then, it might not be that at all, although Alastar wasn’t about to wager anything on that thought. Not at all.

  3

  By just after noon on Jeudi, all signs of the clouds that had cloaked L’Excelsis for more than a week had vanished, and Alastar rode northward on the West River Road, accompanied by two imager thirds, Oestyl and Harl. Several blocks north of the Bridge of Desires, they rode past a lane flanked by a bistro and a bakery, both of which Alastar remembered all too well. The day was warm, as was usual during mid-harvest, and he was more than glad he had worn his lightest set of imager grays, especially since, on hot days especially, the effort of maintaining his shields tended to make him feel hotter. Perhaps because of the rains of the past week, the shops on the west side of the road, particularly the bakery and bistro, seemed more crowded than was often the case.

  Two quints later, the three imagers crossed the Boulevard D’Ouest. Alastar glanced at the Nord Bridge, repaired several years earlier by imagers, and nodded. Then his eyes focused on the Chateau D’Council, set on a low rise more than a half mille ahead on the left. Since the events immediately after the death of Rex Ryen, Alastar had been to the chateau only a handful of times in the succeeding thirteen years.

  As always had been the case, however, two guards in maroon livery opened the large, wrought-iron double gates hung on gray stone pillars more than three yards high. Both nodded politely to the Maitre, then closed them once the imagers had ridden past on the stone-paved lane that separated two separate formal gardens. Alastar reined up under the covered portico that could easily hold two carriages side by side. Above the portico the dwelling itself rose another two stories. Imposing as it was, with a frontage twice that of the Maitre’s dwelling at the Collegium, it was still too small to be considered a true chateau.

  A footman walked in deliberate fashion from before the bronzed double doors at the entry to the chateau and down three of the four wide stone steps before inclining his head. “Maitre Alastar, welcome.”

  “Thank you.” After handing the gray gelding’s reins to Harl, Alastar followed the footman up the steps and into the circular entry hall beyond the double doors. Out of habit, he tucked his visor cap under his arm as he crossed the spacious hall, with its domed ceiling as high as the hall was across. The footman stopped outside the open third door on the right and gestured.

  Alastar stepped into
the receiving study. Almost nothing had changed there over the years. Two sets of armchairs were spaced in a circle around a low table on which refreshments might be placed. There were also higher tables set between the two chairs on each side. Those were newer, as evidenced by the lighter shade of the goldenwood.

  High Holder Cransyr smiled politely, but not warmly from where he stood beside one of the side tables. His hair was as much silver as blond, and a straight nose accentuated the narrow set of his overlarge blue eyes. “Welcome, Maitre Alastar.” He gestured toward the low table. “I understand you have a fondness for dark lager.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. And, yes, I do prefer dark lager.”

  “Excellent.” Cransyr motioned toward the door of the study. Unlike some High Holders, who continued to wear doublets and hose, Cransyr wore an ivory shirt, with a bright green cravat, and a dark green jacket and trousers. His boots were black. He waited for Alastar to begin to seat himself, then did so at the same time.

  In moments, an older woman appeared with a tray on which were two beakers of dark lager. She presented the tray to Alastar, who took the beaker fractionally nearer.

  “We share the same preference in lager,” said Cransyr mildly.

  “So it appears,” replied Alastar, suspecting that, while the High Holder might prefer dark lager to light, Cransyr most likely preferred wine to lager. Once Cransyr had a beaker in hand, Alastar raised his own beaker. “With my appreciation.”

  The two sipped.

  Alastar found the lager excellent. He wouldn’t have expected it to be otherwise. “Outstanding.”

  “I’d hope so.”

  “You suggested there are matters we might discuss.”

  “Ah, yes.” Cransyr took another sip of lager before setting the beaker on the low table before him. “Matters that might affect the Collegium. Not that most matters, it appears, do not affect the Collegium in some fashion. I’m certain you have been following the questions of tariffs … and harvests.”

  “This year’s harvests in the middle of Solidar have been largely ruined from what I can tell, although those in the east, especially around Piedryn, have been excellent. It’s still early for the harvests in the northeast.”

  “Some High Holders have petitioned the rex, individually, of course, and not with the blessing of the High Council, for relief of their tariffs. You are, I understand, aware of such petitions?”

  “I am aware such petitions have been made. I have not seen any of them, nor is it likely that I ever will.”

  “I am also aware that, if he has not already done so, Chief Factor Hulet will approach you and Finance Minister Alucar in an effort to oppose any reduction in tariffs for High Holders.” Cransyr smiled faintly. “He might even suggest reducing tariffs for factors, while raising them for High Holders.”

  “I don’t know of a factor or High Holder who wouldn’t be happier with lower tariffs.” Alastar let a trace of irony creep into his voice. “The last time there was a problem with tariffs and no agreement could be reached, matters did not end well for anyone.”

  “We’re not opposed to being tariffed fairly, Maitre. We are opposed to being tariffed unfairly. As High Holders, we have certain responsibilities that the factors do not have. We must provide more than wages. For those who live on the holding proper, we provide everything. Even those who have factorages on their lands provide housing and clean water and provisions for disposing of waste. Here in L’Excelsis, those who work for the factors must find their own housing, and the rex pays for roads, sewers, and even the water that flows from the public fountains. To pay for such, he uses the tariffs of both High Holders and factors. So the factors pay for such but once, while the High Holders pay twice.”

  “I wasn’t aware that High Holders paid as much in wages as the factors do.”

  “When one considers housing, roads, and the ordered life on a holding, what workers get is about the same. That doesn’t take into consideration the fact that our workers always have access to food and provisions, even when they have no coppers.”

  Alastar decided not to mention the fact that the “allowances” for food on most High Holdings valued basic goods at far higher levels than were the actual prices in L’Excelsis and other towns and cities. “What about the fact that the base levy for High Holders is fixed, regardless of what improvements have been made on the holding in terms of buildings, factorages, and the like?”

  “That’s what’s in the Codex. It’s been there for over four hundred years. Changing it because of a bad year isn’t the best of ideas. If Rex Lorien does want to make changes in the Codex, then perhaps he should also change some of the provisions pertaining to factors. The High Council would be pleased to make suggestions there … in the interests of fairness, of course.”

  “I don’t believe I suggested anything such as changes.” The last thing Alastar wanted to do was to be caught in a position between the High Holders and factors, or either and Lorien. “I did note that the way tariffs are assessed on High Holders differs greatly from the method of assessment on factors … and it would seem that there is less difference, in terms of how each creates income, than there once was.”

  “There is one very basic difference, Maitre. A High Holder cannot sell off large portions of his lands and remain a High Holder. Nor can most holdings be divided between offspring. A factor can sell and buy as he wishes. That was and remains the rationale for fixing the base level of annual tariffs.”

  At that moment, Alastar realized something that he should have known years earlier, not that it would have made the slightest difference in what had transpired—that the tariff increases mandated by Lorien, and supported by the Collegium, had in fact struck the factors harder, because the increase was on the variable part of the tariff for High Holders, and not on the total, while it applied fully to both sections of the factors’ tariffs.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Maitre. I assumed you knew that.”

  “I knew that,” replied Alastar pleasantly. “I just had a twinge in my jaw. I was surprised. I was also thinking that, in a fashion, the rex is essentially a High Holder, since he is limited in what he can pass on to any children besides the one who succeeds him.”

  “Neither he nor his sire have seemed to have the same concerns as the council does,” said Cransyr sardonically.

  “Oh, but they have. Like you, they have wished to keep what they have and give up as little as possible. And that is true of the factors as well. The problem is, as you well know, that if no one gives up anything, roads cannot be built, navies maintained, smugglers halted … and many other matters would languish.”

  “That is true enough, but tariffing High Holders out of existence serves little purpose. I would suggest more revenue would be obtained, with less adverse consequences for all Solidar, by tariffing more highly those factors who have amassed hoards of gold because they underpay their workers and claim that they pay every idle relative, when in fact they pocket those golds, in order to reduce the profits they report to the Minister of Finance.”

  “You don’t think terribly highly of some factors.”

  “Should I? Some of the most profitable factorages are stinking cesspits. You won’t find anything like that on any High Holding.”

  Alastar was afraid, on that matter, Cransyr was largely correct.

  “Even those factors who offer decent working conditions,” Cransyr went on in a tone that suggested there were few such factors, “think nothing of the fact that most of their workers live in the worst of taudis, where cutpurses and villains of every stripe abound.”

  From what Alastar had learned from more than a few young student imagers, living conditions on many High Holdings were not much different from those in the worst of the taudis in L’Excelsis, except that there were fewer cutpurses, and also fewer young men who’d been suspected of such and who had “vanished” or “fled.”

  “You make good points,” Alastar said mildly.

  “You don’t soun
d exactly convinced, Maitre.” Cransyr’s voice was dryly sardonic.

  “I will admit that I recall too vividly the last time tariffs became an issue on which no one would yield.”

  “Both the factors and the High Holders agree now that tariffs should not be raised. We disagree on whose tariffs should be lowered.”

  “I can certainly convey your feelings on that to Rex Lorien, assuming you have not already done so.”

  “The council has conveyed its feelings to the rex. He has acknowledged our concerns and promised to give them the fullest consideration in light of all matters that must weigh in any decision.”

  Alastar could well imagine almost exactly those words coming from Lorien.

  “In brief,” continued Cransyr dryly, “he is likely to do nothing to alleviate the concerns of the more distressed High Holders. That being the case, the High Council would be even more concerned should he grant any form of relief to any factors or if he should, the Nameless forbid, add additional burdens to the excessive tariffs already paid by all High Holders.”

  “You’ve made your position quite clear,” Alastar said with a cheerful tone he didn’t feel.

  “I fail to see that you have a position, Maitre, or that if you do, you have even intimated what it might be.”

  “The position of the Collegium remains, as it always has been, in favor of laws and actions that benefit all Solidar.”

  “I do not see, if you will pardon me, that you have articulated any such policies or actions.” Cransyr’s tone remained dryly sardonic.

  “That well might be because I have not heard any such policies being put forth,” replied Alastar, keeping his tone genial. “I have heard much about how either factors or High Holders wish to improve their position and how whatever the other has suggested is not in their own interest. I have yet to hear anything which goes beyond the interests of either, and I can only see that, at present, anything advocated by the Collegium would be attacked by anyone who perceived their interests as being affected adversely.”

 

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