“A stronghold nearby would be a comfort,” Pentandra agreed. “It would also be a tangible sign of your rule . . . as opposed to your reign,” she pointed out.
“I’ve considered tearing down the current barracks and building it there. It is proximate to the palace and overlooks the town. But it also presents some defensive challenges.”
“I’ll defer to wiser heads when it comes to design - Magelord Carmella’s, to be precise -- but in general terms I would suggest that you keep your plans modest, but impressive.”
He looked confused. “Explain?”
“You have neither the space nor the resources to build something like Darkfaller. A small keep suitable for a reasonable garrison and offering refuge would suffice. But it should appear far more substantial and indicate to the Voroni - and all of the Wilderlands -- your intention to stay and defend the region. A small keep that looks like a big keep, or at least feels like one,” she recommended.
“There is merit to that,” he considered. “Regardless of the size of the fortification, it won’t be sufficient to defend Vorone from a concerted attack. But if it suggests to the people that there is a place of refuge for them, it will provide a sense of security.”
“And give His Grace someplace to retreat to in a time of emergency,” Pentandra added. “May I suggest you summon Magelord Carmella to advise you in this?”
That would not only give Anguin the little castle he wanted, but by using the Hesian Order as his builders it was quite possible to raise the fortification for a fraction of what it would cost using traditional means. Minalan’s recent fascination with enchantment had paid off handsomely, and not just in items of power like Everkeen. His sponsorship of enchanters had led to the development of bricking wands and other sophisticated spellwork that had been instrumental in raising the pele towers quickly in the wilderness last summer.
That would also give Carmella the opportunity to propose her far grander idea: building a real castle in the Wilderlands.
Carmella and Minalan had discussed the idea extensively during the Long March, and even looked at some promising sites. The rationale was that when the goblins did inevitably decide to break the treaty and invade the rest of human lands, the two large towns remaining in the Wilderlands, Tudry and Vorone, would be easily taken. Neither one was designed for an extended siege, nor were they constructed for a determined defense.
What Carmella proposed was building a new fortification designed for both, and place it in such a fashion that it would naturally absorb the brunt of a goblin resurgence instead of the more-vulnerable towns.
The plan made a lot of sense to Pentandra, after what she’d seen in the invasion. Neither town, for all of their commercial value, could sustain a defense, if the goblins weren’t worried about being attacked from behind. A real castle – something much grander than the baronial castles that were left – would force the gurvani to factor it into their plans . . . and hopefully provide a place of refuge for the humans of the Alshari Wilderlands.
To call the plan ambitious was an understatement. Never had such an endeavor been attempted in the northlands, not on the scale Carmella envisioned. It would be obscenely expensive, difficult in a land that lacked skilled workers, and it could take years even with the assistance of magic.
Despite all of those compelling reasons, with her understanding of the situation Pentandra couldn’t see much other way to preserve the Duchy in the case of a gurvani resurgence. Convincing Anguin and the rest of the court would be much more difficult, she knew. There was still a considerable party in court who favored turning their attention to the rebels in the south as soon as the regime was on solid footing.
They were fools, Pentandra knew. The regime would not be on solid footing until there was a reliable military force and political stability in the Wilderlands, and they were still years away from that. Even assuming they were, challenging the increasingly entrenched rebels at this distance would be nearly impossible. But taking the step of enforcing his rule over the Wilderlands by building a keep in the capital in the meantime was prudent, she knew.
“She’s just who I had in mind,” agreed Anguin, happily. “I like her. I was hoping you’d recommend her. If anyone can make a simple keep appear impressive, it’s Magelord Carmella.” He paused, and reflected a moment. “What concerns me more is the political reaction, if I take this step.”
“Your Grace, the people of the Wilderlands support you,” Pentandra said, confused. Much had been in doubt, since the restoration began, but the ire the regime had feared from the folk of Vorone had not materialized. Indeed, Anguin had been greeted as a savior and a sovereign by the Voroni and the lords. Only a handful of Wilderlords had even questioned his right to rule, far less than expected.
“It’s not political action in the Wilderlands that concerns me,” Anguin confided. “It’s the reaction from Castabriel.”
“Ah. The king,” Pentandra said, nodding.
“Less King Rard and more his wife,” Anguin said, his eyes shifting nervously. “I’ve heard rumors that she takes a far more active hand in politics than even he does.”
“Let us be frank, Your Grace,” Pentandra said with a sigh. “She rules, he reigns.”
“Just so,” agreed the young duke with a chuckle. “My concern is how she will react if I start . . . acting like a real duke.”
“You are right to be concerned,” suggested Pentandra, cautiously. “Of all of your opponents, the royal family may prove more difficult than even the southern rebels.”
“I think so as well. And there is a danger in arousing their ire,” he conceded, unhappily. “But I will not shirk my duty out of fear of politics,” Anguin added, forcefully. “Alshar is mine to rule, not hers. If she wishes to send an assassin to keep a knife at my throat while I do that, that is a risk I must accept.”
“I think we’re beyond anything so heavy-handed,” she pointed out. “Queen Grendine doesn’t want to upset the delicate politics that’s keeping her regime in place. Another casual assassination would be too much for her to bear, I’d venture. But she will send someone to watch you, I’m guessing. Perhaps disguised as a servant. Or someone else innocuous. But it would not be in her character to allow you to rule without a dagger somewhere near your back.”
“That does make sense. I know it hasn’t really been a priority, but we really should do something about the lack of a good chief of intelligence for the court. It seems silly talking about castles and legacies when we lack a basic tool of governance.”
“That shows impressive insight on your part, Your Grace,” Pentandra said, approvingly. “In my experience the Narasi rarely give the vocation the respect it deserves, unlike my Imperial ancestors. A fact which Queen Grendine has used to great effect. From what I recall, your father tried to distance himself from such intrigues as ignoble.”
“And see how it profited him,” Anguin said wryly, with a tinge of sadness in his voice. “We were supposed to go hunting when he got back from battle. But I have learned from his mistake, I think. And I have read the histories of the Magocracy enough to understand how vital spies are to a regime. I understand the need . . . but I do not know anyone with skills in that realm whom I can trust.
“The former captain of the palace guard, Sir Daranal, served my father in that capacity in Vorone, but Father Amus and Father Jodas do not find him trustworthy in that capacity. And Count Angrial dismisses him from consideration based on his talents in the world of spycraft. It seems he was considered a reliable manager, but un-ambitious and primarily concerned with the politics of the up-country Wilderlords, not the machinations of the Sea Lords. Which is why I made him a baron, where I can watch him more closely.”
“And seeing as how there are damn few Wilderlords left, and virtually none of the old houses, his intelligence assets are likely worthless,” nodded Pentandra. “Your Grace, I appreciate your predicament, I do. But I do hope this is not a roundabout method of asking me to assume the role. I assure you, I
have a plentitude of work in my basket already.”
“What? No, not at all,” he sighed. “In fact, I proposed the idea to Angrial and Amus, after your excellent work against the Rats, and they were not in favor. They were concerned about your competing loyalties with the Arcane Orders. They respect you too much to put you in that position.”
She smirked. If that was the rationale they gave the lad, she wouldn’t dispute it. It had the merit of being diplomatic, and it saved her from the prospect of a job she didn’t want.
“I defer to the judgment of such wise counselors. And I will be happy to assist you in finding your candidate however I may. But I honestly do not know anyone at the moment who would serve, whose loyalties to you were beyond question.” She considered. “That being said, Your Grace, please understand that despite your advisors’ suspicions, if the Arcane Orders learn of anything value to the realm, I shall be certain it reaches the proper ears.”
“I am continuously gratified in the support of the Arcane Orders and its magi,” he said, with a touch of formality. “The Magelords’ appearance at court did much to bolster my reign at a critical time. And . . . Baron Azar’s execution in the middle of court was impressive. It caused quite the stir among the petty nobility, from what I understand. More so than Edmarin’s execution. And it made the peers take notice, too. With such vassals at my command, it proves my willingness to rule, not merely reign.”
“Don’t encourage Azar too much, he gets carried away,” Pentandra warned him. “But he is steadfast. He loves war, and he loves victory. He does not love politics. You can rely on he and Astyral to hold their lands on your behalf,” she assured him.
“Concerning that,” Anguin said, thoughtfully, “I’ve noted that the Magelords of the realm have managed to survive and even thrive where the remaining Wilderlords fail.”
Pentandra buttered a biscuit while she considered the duke’s casual words. She sensed opportunity.
“Why, yes, Your Grace, with magic’s aid a High Mage has resources that a mere knight lacks. And to be candid, the magelords’ approach to governance is less informed by tradition.”
Anguin chuckled, seeing through her diplomacy. “Meaning that they’re less worried about whether their vanity is flattered than governing.”
“I would say, rather, that the skills a mage brings to management of estates are more diverse, by necessity, than those of a simple Wilderlord.”
“Perhaps,” considered the young duke. “But regardless of why, the result is the same. Lady Pentandra, more than half of the estates north of Tudry are occupied, destroyed, or abandoned. Even if I give the deeds of these domains to new Wilderlords, they’re not terribly well-equipped to do much about them. The old order in the Wilderlands has been swept away. If the duchy is to survive, a new order has to replace it.”
“Another wise insight, Your Grace.”
“I would have magelords play a strong role in that order,” he said, earnestly. “I’ve some notion of what you can do, more than my cousins do. And the realm has a dire need.”
“Your Grace, on behalf of my vocation and colleagues, I’m flattered,” Pentandra began.
“But you know there are those who would never stand for it?” she finished, with a grin.
“Oh, I am well-aware, my lady. Already there are courtiers who whisper the Arcane Orders are too well represented in court. However, I am the duke. If I want more magelords, I’ll get myself more magelords,” he added, forcefully. “It would help, however, if I could help demonstrate the advantage of that strategy.”
“What would you have me do, Your Grace?” she asked, realizing that this entire breakfast meeting had been a pretext for this request.
“Show the court that magic has value,” he said with a deep sigh. “Show them that I can trust and rely on magelords in my government beyond the Court Wizard. Show them that we are stronger with the magi on our side than not. Hells, show them . . . something! Help me make the argument that a new order involving magi is essential for the prosperity of the Wilderlands. Do that, and . . . and . . . and I’ll reward you.”
Pentandra smirked. “Your Grace is generous, but . . .”
“Just try,” he pleaded, with just enough adolescent whining to be compelling. He stood, signaling that the meeting was over . . . and Pentandra realized that two young maidens in matching green gowns were waiting at the door of the Game Room. “I need to . . . confer with some . . . business matters . . . right now,” he struggled to explain, as the two pretty whores giggled behind their hands.
Pentandra’s heart fell, even as she appreciated the lad’s dedication to his duty. Just when she thought she’d anchored him with sensible advice, Lady Pleasure’s agents were prepared to seduce him out from under her.
She could hardly object – she had no doubt that the maidens had legitimate business for the Duke concerning that damned festival. She also had no doubt what would transpire the moment the door was secure.
It was clear that if she did not do something, and soon, it would be Lady Pleasure making policy at court.
“I will do my best, Your Grace,” she said, standing and bowing. He smiled pleasantly at her, but his eyes had already indicated she had been dismissed in favor of the two girls nearer his own age.
It was time for her to get to work, she realized.
Pentandra’s relationship with her cousin Planus had always been more congenial than cordial – the two shared not just a passion for their magical vocation, but similar ideas about politics, fashion, and Remeran society. Of all of her many cousins Planus had been the most reliable ally over the years, as well as a favorite of her father.
Since that relationship had lead directly to his rise in wealth and prosperity, Pentandra felt that he owed her some consideration . . . and it was time to exploit that.
So what does my cousin the court wizard desire of this humble adept? he asked that afternoon when she contacted him magically, mind-to-mind.
Some advice and possibly some assistance, she began. I was wondering if you could assist me in a little more smuggling.
Oh, my dear!
She could hear the change in tone in his mental voice at the mention of the word. Despite Planus’ reputation as a canny businessman and an upstanding professional resident adept, Pentandra was one of the few who knew about the less-legitimate side of his enterprises.
Simply put, Planus viewed making profit by magically evading tolls and tariffs the same way Pentandra viewed a long night of sweaty sex. There had always been a streak in her family of people who had the talent for making and accumulating money, just as there was the trait for magical Talent.
Every generation of the Benurvial line seemed to produce a specimen particularly talented at both, and for her generation that person was Planus. They had managed to ensure the family’s prosperity and survival during the darkest times of the Bans, keeping intact ancestral estates and ensuring that each new generation had every advantage to prosper.
Planus was particularly gifted at the art. He had quickly used his acquisition of a witchstone (with Pentandra’s help) as leverage in his magical business, but had also expanded that business into a number of lucrative enterprises. He used the Mirror array to hire agents in distant lands and monitor prices at market, for instance. One (that she knew of) involved spells that reduced the apparent tonnage on a barge by half when an inspector tallied it. You couldn’t count what you didn’t notice.
When she realized that in order to fulfill her promise to the duke she would need both a smuggler and a mage, Planus was naturally to whom she turned.
I have another problem, she began, contacting him mind-to-mind. I need to know what the average price of iron ore is at market.
I’ll have to check, he promised. You have more to dispose of?
I have great heaping warehouses full of iron ore. I need silver and gold.
Not wheat?
I think our previous bargain took care of that problem, for now, but I’ll let you know.
I just need to get rid of this iron, and I figured I would give you the opportunity.
Well, I do still have all of my contacts, he agreed. They were pleased with the last shipment. The iron miners in southern Remere, less so. But . . . there is no reason to restrict our activities to Remere, he suggested. I think I can find the market, if you can keep supplying it. Thank the gods for the supply wands. Do you realize how high just the freight will be on that transaction, both ways? Not to mention the tariffs and tolls?
Apropos to that, I’ve ordered a special set of wands from Sevendor for this sort of thing in the future, she informed him. Just for us, she cautioned, no one else is to know. Then I’m going to send you all the iron you can sell, and perhaps secure supply of other commodities, on an as-needed basis. For an appropriate and modest fee, of course, she added, sternly.
Why Penny! You know I always treat family right! I’ve actually been thinking of ways to exploit the pocket enchantment since I learned about it. I’m already making a small fortune speculating using the Mirror Array, he bragged. None of my non-magical competitors understands it, yet, really. But for you, Pen? You’re family.
Court Wizard: Book Eight Of The Spellmonger Series Page 51