“No, I have not.”
The truth of those words was clear, for which Mykella was grateful. She cared little for Klevytr, but that was scarcely the point for her visit. “I think it would be far better for you—and your family—to remain in Tempre rather than for you to continue in your attempts to pack up and transfer your wealth, business, and family out of Tempre.”
“A prudent man must always be concerned for his future and that of his family. Surely, you would grant such.”
“Oh … I would indeed. That is why I am here. A prudent man would not uproot his family and change his business, risking great losses—and the enmity of his ruler—merely because he dislikes the idea of a lady ruler. Nor would a prudent Lady-Protector destroy a successful and generally reputable Seltyr merely because he dislikes her.”
Klevytr nodded slowly. “It is likely that Lanachrona will be attacked. You are powerful. You will survive, but the Southern Guards is outnumbered. Can you assure me that we will survive as well?”
“There are no assurances in life such as those you seek, Seltyr. I would point out that you are respected and successful here, and that should you leave, you will lose much because, by leaving, you will forfeit all properties and lands. Also, anyone of stature who leaves in the face of difficulty is always known thereafter as one who looks only to his own interests, and such men are considered suspect in all other lands for so long as they live.”
“Your thoughts offer little consolation, Lady-Protector.”
“I cannot offer consolation, Seltyr. I can only offer advice.” Mykella smiled pleasantly. “I will be offering some thoughts along the same lines to the First Seltyr shortly.”
“I see.”
“How is your daughter faring?”
“She is well, Lady-Protector, and thankful to be so.”
“I am very glad of that. She is a worthy daughter, and most courageous.” Mykella inclined her head slightly. “I will not take more of your time, but I did wish to make you fully aware of how I feel.”
Klevytr inclined his head in return. “I do appreciate your advice, Lady-Protector, and your thoughtfulness in sharing your words with me.”
From what Mykella could sense, Klevytr was somewhat angry, yet relieved and more than a little puzzled. Let him be. Still … she would have to watch him although she had the sense that he would not leave now … unless matters changed.
“You are most welcome.” Mykella offered a last smile, then turned and left the study.
Klevytr followed her without speaking and waited on the porch of the countinghouse while she mounted the gray.
“Back to the palace, Lady-Protector?” asked Maeltor.
“No. To the villa of the First Seltyr.” Mykella looked to Klevytr and smiled. “Good day.”
“And to you, Lady.”
The ride across Tempre to the Eastern Avenue and out to Khanasyl’s villa took almost a quarter glass. As they neared the double gates in the brilliant white wall, a guard in white appeared behind the enameled white iron grillework. Mykella could sense the man’s apprehension as she rode up with the guards behind her.
Maeltor rode forward. “The Lady-Protector is here to see the First Seltyr.”
Mykella smiled at the guard, projecting warmth and friendliness.
After several moments, the gate opened; but when she rode past the guard, Mykella could see the nervous perspiration on the man’s face.
The lane from the gate joined a paved circle around a small park, rising gently to the villa set on the top of the low hill. Mykella guided the gray to the right. At the front of the villa was a columned portico with a covered area wide enough to accommodate three coaches abreast and two or more with full teams end to end.
She reined up beside a mounting block and called up to the man in a gray and crimson uniform standing at the top of the portico steps. “I’m here to see the First Seltyr.”
The functionary looked down at the black-clad Lady-Protector and the squad of Southern Guards. He swallowed. “Yes, Lady-Protector.”
Mykella vaulted, if carefully, off the gray and onto the mounting block, then stepped down and started up the three white marble risers, far wider than those of the main entry to the palace. She had just reached the flat stone terrace before the short covered walk to the main entry when the functionary asked, “Is First Seltyr Khanasyl expecting you, Lady?”
“I doubt it, but he will see me. You are?”
“Dobrak, first assistant steward.”
“Good,” said Mykella, heading toward the entry doors.
Dobrak hurried ahead and held the door.
“Is he still in his study?”
“Ah … yes, Lady.” After a moment, the assistant steward started across the square entry hall—more of an enclosed courtyard that rose more than two stories, with stepped garden beds set in white marble on each side. She recognized both miniature lime and lemon trees in those beds, as well as two large heating stoves, half-recessed into the raised beds on each side of the courtyard.
At the far side, Dobrak led Mykella through a square arch and down a wide corridor to the left, lit by clerestory windows on the front side of the villa. At the end of the corridor, almost a hundred yards from the courtyard, Dobrak stopped before two double doors, each whitened oak trimmed with hammered black iron.
He rapped on the door firmly, then declaimed loudly, “The Lady-Protector to see you, sir!”
There was absolute silence for a long moment behind the doors.
“By all means … have her come in.” Even with the double doors between her and Khanasyl, Mykella could sense the consternation that the heartiness of the Seltyr’s words covered.
The assistant steward quickly reached forward and opened the door, half bowing as he did so. Mykella concealed a smile at how quickly the door closed behind her as she stepped into the chamber, a library rather than a study.
The walls flanking the double doors were filled with dark wooden bookshelves, and every shelf was close to overflowing with leather-bound volumes. In the center of the wall to her right were a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows, framed by gray-trimmed red velvet hangings. The wall to her left held two bookcases, with a space some five yards across between them. In the open space was a larger-than-life sculpture of a man wearing an antique-looking jacket and trousers and holding a book in his left hand. Facing her was Khanasyl, standing before a large desk piled high with volumes, although Mykella felt that most were ledgers. Behind him was another set of floor-to-ceiling double windows, through which she could see an extensive walled garden.
Walls within walls. More so than even behind the palace.
The floor was of a polished pearly gray stone, bare of carpeting except for the large circular crimson-and-gray-patterned rug, in the middle of which stood Khanasyl’s desk.
“Greetings, Lady-Protector … I did not expect you…”
“I did not anticipate that you would, First Seltyr.” Mykella walked toward the Seltyr, stopping on the edge of the carpet.
“Please … be seated.” Khanasyl gestured to the large leather-upholstered armchair set at an angle to the corner of the desk. “Might I offer you some refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I will be brief.” Mykella did not sit in the armchair but perched on the broad left arm, so that she was looking levelly at the tall Seltyr when he settled into the raised and overlarge chair behind the desk. “I just had a visit with Seltyr Klevytr. He had a number of concerns. They were remarkably similar to those you raised when we last met, and he was seriously considering leaving Tempre for good. I pointed out to him that doing so would cost him dearly, and he seemed to understand.” Mykella smiled coldly. “Unfortunately, until I did explain matters to him, he appeared unaware of the costs of such an action. Tell me. Are you planning to leave Tempre?”
“No. Of course not. Why would you think that?”
Mykella could read the vehemence and the truth behind Khanasyl’s words, and that confirmed one of her suspicions. �
��Why would I not think that? You said that you were concerned about the future of trade in Tempre. Two Seltyrs with whom you’ve spent much time both considered leaving.”
“I would never do such.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” Mykella paused, then added, “It would be unfortunate if word happened to get out that one Seltyr hinted that the wise might leave Tempre … and that he or others then acquired various assets at far less than their value.”
“That is a rather presumptuous assumption, Lady-Protector.”
“First Seltyr, I am not assuming anything. I merely said that such a rumor would be most unfortunate. It would also be unfortunate if word happened to get out that, at the same time, a Seltyr recommended persons for a post who all knew were, shall we say, less than qualified. It might appear that…” She paused. “I think you know exactly what it might appear to be.”
Khanasyl laughed, warmly, then shook his head. “Such statements … who could possibly believe them?”
“No one, I would think,” replied Mykella with a light laugh of her own, “if nothing more along those lines happened to surface.”
“I can assure you that nothing like that will surface, Lady.”
“I can assure you, First Seltyr, that if anything more like that does occur, it will surface, sooner or later. I would be very disappointed if any such words or acts did.” Mykella used her Talent to gather light to herself. “Very disappointed,” she said softly, letting the light fade away.
After the slightest hesitation, Khanasyl smiled, warmly and falsely, falsely in the sense that, for the first time, a sense of fear filled him. “I will do my best not to disappoint you, Lady-Protector.”
“And I will do my best to make Tempre a very good place for fair and open trade and commerce,” she replied, slipping off the arm of the chair and standing directly facing Khanasyl. “I look forward to your efforts in reassuring all the other Seltyrs about my commitments to that. You know, as many others do not, that the Seltyrs of Southgate do not have your best interests in mind, no matter what they say. They never have. The Protectors of Lanachrona may not always have acted wisely in the past, but they did have Lanachrona’s interests in mind, as do I.” That all Protectors always acted in Lanachrona’s interests was probably an overstatement, but one that Khanasyl would not dispute.
“A land’s interests may not be that of a Seltyr’s,” said Khanasyl mildly as he slipped to his feet.
“Over the years, they are the same. A Seltyr who puts this year or this season above good business over time will find himself far poorer and in far worse shape.” She smiled. “I am not telling you anything you do not know, but you might wish to point it out to others who have forgotten.”
“It is a good thought.”
“It is the thought with which I will leave you. Good day, First Seltyr.” With a last smile, she turned and walked toward the double doors.
Not surprisingly, the left door opened as she neared it. She did not look back.
The wind began to pick up on the ride back to the palace, and dark clouds scudded out of the northeast, suggesting a cold rain. Mykella only hoped it was not another heavy downpour and that the winds remained moderate.
She had barely gotten back to her study when Chalmyr announced High Factor Zylander.
When the High Factor entered, he bowed, a gesture of respect neither obsequious nor perfunctory. “Lady-Protector. You wished to see me.”
Mykella motioned to the chairs before the desk, then sat down, adjusting the square cushion that reminded her, again, that she needed a chair more suited to her. “I did.”
As the High Factor seated himself, Mykella studied him. In comparison to Pytroven, Zylander was physically almost nondescript—of moderate height, with mostly gray hair and washed-out hazel eyes above a neatly trimmed square gray beard. His straight nose was neither long nor short He wore a gray woolen jacket and trousers, and his white shirt was of a finely woven cotton but had been worn enough that it was clearly not recently made. He waited politely for Mykella to speak.
“You may have heard, High Factor, that there have been certain difficulties with the Ministry of Highways and Rivers. I have talked about those difficulties with a number of Seltyrs and High Factors. Chief High Factor Lhanyr suggested that I also discuss these matters with you.”
“Lhanyr has always been one for including more people in matters.” Zylander smiled, almost shyly, it felt to Mykella.
“How do you feel about the Ministry of Highways and Rivers?”
“Without clear highways and firm towpaths, trade will suffer. The least of the factors knows that.”
“So does the Lady-Protector. Has the ministry failed in any of this?”
Zylander frowned slightly. “I would not say that the ministry has failed. There are tales…”
Mykella nodded, but did not speak, waiting for the High Factor to continue.
“You know the ox pens? Those closest to the Great Piers are kept the cleanest and the driest, and all the bargemasters would wish those. Yet I have often seen them empty for days, until the barges of certain Seltyrs arrived.”
“Do all Seltyrs and factors pay the same fees for penning their oxen?”
“They do. A copper an ox for each day. It does not matter which pen is offered.”
“You’re suggesting that the portmaster makes the offers for reasons other than who might arrive first.”
“Not the portmaster. The assistant portmaster who deals with the pens. It is well-known that there are ways…” Zylander shrugged.
“How do you think it should be handled?”
“The better pens might cost more, perhaps an additional copper for each pair of oxen. Those who wished the better pens could pay for them.”
“And the assistant portmaster?”
“Perhaps he should work for a Seltyr and not for the Minister of Highways and Rivers.” Zylander laughed softly, but warmly, and without malice.
“Are there other matters?” prompted Mykella. “Like those.”
“… there may be … but I have only heard from others…”
“While you tried to obtain the better pens and could not do so? Not without … certain considerations?”
“Even such considerations, as you put it, were not sufficient. I was willing to pay for better pens. I would have preferred that they be available to those willing to pay and that such payments go to the Lord-Protector.”
Mykella nodded, then said, “Recently, the storms washed out certain parts of the towpaths. I discovered that previous repairs had been less than what they should have been.”
“That is not surprising. There are parts of the towpaths where the paving stones do not seem firmly in place when the oxen cross them. That was not so when I took over for my father some years ago.”
“What else have you noticed?”
“The river walls along the South River are sagging in places…”
Mykella asked gentle questions and listened for almost a glass before she inquired, “Do you think a devoted Minister of Highways and Rivers could improve all that you have noticed?”
“Golds would be required, but those things could be better. They should be.”
“I am seeking such a minister. Would you be interested?”
Zylander laughed softly. “Did Lhanyr offer my name?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I have mentioned much of this to him, and he has always said that, with all my observations and ideas, I should seek to become Minister of Highways and Rivers.”
“He did recommend you. He also said he had not talked to you about that and did not know if you would be interested.”
The High Factor nodded slowly. “If … if you are willing for me to make changes, I would consider it.”
“Some changes are necessary immediately, such as the way repairs are accomplished and the way the oxen pens are offered. Others we would need to discuss as to how they might be done. The Treasury is not what it should
be.”
“I had heard such.” Zylander smiled. “It is said that when a man is offered the chance to remedy all that about which he has complained, he is a fool to accept that chance because nothing is as it seems. Yet … I am willing to be called a fool.”
“I would not call you a fool, High Factor. Nor would I force you, but I would like you to be minister.”
“If it would not trouble you too much, I would request that I not be named minister until just before the turn of spring. I will need some time to go over matters with my son and daughter.”
“I can do that.” Mykella smiled warmly. “Thank you.” She stood.
As he rose, Zylander looked at her shyly, once more. “I had not thought to come with this on my thoughts.”
“I know. I could tell.”
“You can tell more than most, I fear, Lady-Protector, and that is good for a ruler and her land. It is not so good for you.” He bowed respectfully. “By your leave?”
“Of course, High Factor and Minister.”
When the door closed, Mykella took a deep breath. She still didn’t truly understand why her father had not seen what Porofyr had done and how he had abused his position. At least, Zylander knew what the problems were and had ideas on how to remedy them. All she had to do was hold everything together and come up with more golds.
35
After Zylander left, Mykella spent a quarter of a glass looking at petitions she didn’t want to read. Then she stood. She still hadn’t investigated the silver mirrors—if they even existed outside the soarers’ city—and if she didn’t before long, she wouldn’t have any time to do so. Nothing else on her desk or from her remaining ministers was that urgent, and she needed to seek out the silver mirrors, if only to see if they offered any way to use her Talent more effectively. Reading another petition and dealing with another spoiled Seltyr’s problems could wait. She tried not to think about the fact that Tempre was only one city in Lanachrona and that she hadn’t even had a chance to look into what needed to be done elsewhere—and until she had ministers who were both good and trustworthy, that would be close to impossible.
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