Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Baah! He’ll say less than you have, and he won’t say it as plainly. What is he doing?”

  “He has declared that he will have a proposal ready later this week,” Alastar continued, knowing that, while Lorien had promised it by the end of the day, such was unlikely. “He has also asked Acting Marshal Petayn for a plan to reduce the number of army regiments and to transfer some to locations along the Southern Gulf in order to reduce piracy by eliminating shore bases for piracy. Sea Marshal Wilkorn has been asked to provide a plan for building some smaller craft to deal with the pirates and for a longer-term increase of larger vessels to combat the larger ships of Jariola and Ferrum. Depending on the actions of the High Council and the High Holders, there may be an even greater shift in time.”

  “Back to doing nothing at all,” Elthyrd growled. “Much as you and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, at least I know what you’ll do and what you won’t, and when. You keep your word. There wouldn’t have been any hope of any improvement without you, and don’t you think I don’t know it.” He paused and looked at Alastar. “What will you do if they don’t act?”

  “What I can,” replied Alastar.

  “Ha! From any other man, that would mean nothing.” The factor shook his head. “Words! From one man, they mean nothing. From another, they mean everything that they say. From a woman, they definitely mean something, but the Namer knows what half the time.” Abruptly, he looked at Alastar. “You’re not married, are you?”

  “I’m a widower. My wife died years ago.”

  “You’re missing the greatest trials and the greatest joys in life, Maitre, and I don’t know whether to envy you or pity you. It’s probably better you’re not married at the moment.” Elthyrd paused. “Don’t ask me to explain that. You’ll find out soon enough, if another worthy woman enters your life. If one doesn’t, it won’t matter. Is there anything else we need to talk about now?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Good. I promised I’d inspect a shipment of goldenwood and dark mahogany. Won’t pay unless it’s up to standards.” The factor rose from behind the desk. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Alastar stood, and the two walked out into a clear but cold and windy morning. Alastar didn’t hesitate to put on his gray leather gloves once he left the factor. He also made certain his cap was firmly seated on his head. Dhonaet and Maercyl immediately mounted and led the gray gelding to Alastar, then followed him after he mounted and turned south on the East River Road. With the old east bridge still not replaced, Alastar had to ride to the Sud Bridge over the Aluse and then north on the West River Road to the repaired Bridge of Desires in order to return to the Collegium. For the time being, Alastar was more than happy to have but one bridge to Imagisle. Besides which, he’d been thinking about replacing the old east bridge with a wider and more functional bridge. From a symbolic point of view that would be even more necessary once the Avenue D’Rex was completed, because Alastar wanted to build more support for the Collegium with the factors of L’Excelsis and because he wanted the people to feel that the Collegium was linked to the city as well as to the rex.

  Once back on Imagisle, he immediately sought out Akoryt, finding him in the anomen.

  “Have your scouts noticed anything unusual at army headquarters?”

  “No, sir. Not a thing. Except that they’re polishing the brass on a pair of fancy wagons.”

  “That’s for the memorial service on Samedi, something I’ll have to attend as well. I’ll need two pair of seconds and thirds in their best grays, boots polished and all that. They’ll need to be ready around first glass. The service begins at second glass.”

  “Two pair?”

  “One to take care of the horses and a second to escort me into the Anomen D’Rex. They’ll need to carry shields.”

  Akoryt offered a concerned look.

  “It’s called keeping up appearances, which, after the last few weeks, we need to do.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure they’re ready.”

  “I assume both Bettaur and Taurek are behaving.”

  “Having Arion mentor Taurek is working well. Bettaur will likely continue to behave as long as he knows everyone is watching him.”

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  After discussing more details about the patrols of the river roads, Alastar returned to the Maitre’s dwelling, where he found Alyna.

  “Have you been waiting long?” He gestured for her to come into the study with him.

  “No. I had Tiranya send word with one of the primes when you finished with Akoryt. I wanted to talk to you about when you wanted us to start on the rebuilding, but I can’t stay long.”

  With that information, Alastar remained standing beside his desk. “When will you have your calculations done for the foundations of the administration building and the dining hall?”

  “I did the dining hall first. Those are done. Tomorrow sometime for the administration building.”

  “Once they’re done … would you feel like supervising the imaging?”

  “That is rather gently put…”

  “I’d appreciate…” Then Alastar laughed. “I apologize. Maitre D’Structure Alyna, you are in charge of designing and rebuilding those two buildings. You have the authority to enlist any maitres you need to get the task done. The only exception is if Cyran or I need them for the defense of Imagisle.”

  Alyna inclined her head, but Alastar caught the hint of the mischievous smile. “Thank you, sir. We’ll begin on Vendrei, unless it rains or snows.”

  “Good.” He paused. “Have you learned any more about Bettaur?”

  “He’s been trying to convince Orlana and Dorya that his being disciplined was just a misunderstanding, and that he really had Taurek’s best interests at heart.”

  “He probably half-believes that himself. That kind always does. Have you said anything?”

  “I didn’t have to. Both Tiranya and Seliora made it clear that if the two of them believed what Bettaur said, they’d likely end up like Shannyr, if not Johanyr.”

  “That’s going to make Bettaur angrier.”

  “Tiranya told them to be pleasant to him, but not to believe a word.”

  “That may make it worse, not that she didn’t do the right thing. Sometimes I think the Bettaurs of the world cause as much evil and misery as the out-and-out villains, and so many of them get away with it for so long before the reckoning comes due.”

  “Most like him, especially the pretty boys, except that’s redundant, have the same reaction—that it’s a misunderstanding and so unfair.”

  Alastar couldn’t help but smile at the gentle irony in her voice, but another thought occurred to him. “What about the girls who are seconds—Thelia, Linzya … and the others?”

  “Thelia saw through him as soon as she arrived, and Linzya listens to her. I’ll make sure Tiranya spreads the word to Paemyna and Mauryna.” Alyna paused. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the anomen in time for my mathematics instructional.”

  “I won’t keep you.” Again, as soon as Alastar said the words, he wished he hadn’t phrased them quite that way, but he managed to smile pleasantly, without flushing, he hoped.

  After she left, he closed the study door and shook his head. Never had he made so many unintended double entendres with anyone … and the way he’d almost dealt with Alyna over the rebuilding … it wasn’t quite the same thing, but it reminded him of what Elthyrd said. “It’s probably better you’re not married at the moment.” Why? Because he’d try to protect her too much, and she’d resent it? Except you haven’t even asked her … and if you do … She’d as much as said that she wasn’t interested until he managed to get the Collegium back on sound footings, or at a minimum to where she wasn’t second in his thoughts and feelings. At least, that’s what you think she meant.

  The remainder of the morning and the early afternoon he dealt with as many of the small details of being Maitre that he’d put aside as he could bef
ore he finally hurried to the stables where the gelding and the two seconds—Maercyl and Dhonaet, again—waited for him. They arrived at the Chateau D’Rex a quint before fourth glass, and Alastar made his way up the steps and was escorted up the grand staircase to the rex’s study.

  Lorien was once more standing by the window, looking out to the north.

  Alastar had to admit that the wall of clouds in the distance did look ominous, and he hoped that he and Lorien could finish early enough that he wouldn’t have to ride through a downpour to get back to the Collegium.

  The young rex turned abruptly. “Have you any news, Maitre?”

  “We’ll begin rebuilding the buildings that were destroyed later this week. I met this morning with Factor Elthyrd, the head of the factors’ council of L’Excelsis. The factors are hopeful that there will not be any delay in constructing vessels to deal with the pirates plaguing the Southern Gulf. I told the good factor that you had issued instructions to Sea Marshal Wilkorn to prepare plans for the future of the navy to deal with both the pirates and the future threat of Jariolan and Ferran warships.”

  “He thinks we can build ships overnight, I’d wager. Did he complain that we were not acting quickly enough?”

  “I pointed out that you needed increased tariffs if you were going to be able to pay for those ships. Speaking of that, how is your declaration establishing next year’s tariffs coming?”

  “I’m still working on it. Here … let me read it to you.” Lorien turned back to the desk and picked up a single piece of paper. He cleared his throat and, lifting the sheet, began, almost as if he were announcing a proclamation, “Whereas the great land of Solidar is blessed with fertile lands and great industry, and whereas it is the duty of the Rex to provide those amenities and services to support and encourage productive use of all resources, especially those services provided by the army and the navy, the highways, the justicers and courts, and the Rex’s post couriers, the costs of such provisions having risen for years without adjustments, it is hereby decreed that the tariff for the coming year, the year 390 after the establishment of L’Excelsis as the capital of all Solidar, shall be increased by four coppers for each gold currently due under the existing tallage, as registered in the records of the Ministry of Finance in L’Excelsis. The same rate of increase shall apply to all tariffs paid on goods imported into Solidar at all ports, and upon all sales or transfers of lands or other properties…”

  Lorien stopped and coughed to clear his throat. “I don’t know as I’m pleased with the wording…”

  “Isn’t that the wording suggested by Minister Salucar?”

  “It doesn’t sound right … all those ‘whereas’ phrases, you know?”

  “How else would you phrase it? If you begin with ‘because,’ it almost sounds whining … ‘Because the great land of Solidar is blessed … and because it is the duty of the Rex…’ Doesn’t that sound like you resent having to do those things which it is your duty to do?”

  “What about ‘since’?” Lorien looked at the paper and began again, “Since the great land of Solidar is blessed with fertile lands and great industry, and since it is the duty of the Rex to provide those amenities…” He stopped and shook his head. “That sounds almost simpering. I hate sounding simpering, and over a trifling increase of four coppers on a gold, I definitely do not wish to sound simpering.”

  “You could just go with ‘whereas.’ It, at least, sounds regial.”

  “I need something that sounds regial without sounding pompous.”

  “Take out the use of ‘whereas.’ Just start with a statement. ‘The great land of Solidar is blessed with fertile lands and great industry, and it is the duty of the Rex to provide…’ Then you could say, ‘Therefore, since the costs…’”

  “No … that’s not the right tone, and there’s still a simpering ‘since,’ and ‘because’ isn’t any better. ‘Because’ sounds like a fishwife.”

  Although Alastar doubted that Lorien had ever been within a mille of a fishwife, he just said, “Then stay with ‘whereas’; hold your nose, so to speak, and put out the declaration of tariffs. The numbers are clear enough, and getting it out will bring in your tariffs sooner.”

  “That may be, but I’m the one that will have to live with what I write, not you … I don’t want to go down as the great meaningless pontificator or the rex who sounded like a fishwife.”

  “Begging your pardon, Lorien, but no one is ever going to look at any tariff declaration of any rex as an indication of his skill or lack of skill with words. The words that people will remember will be those where people might actually listen, for example, what you will say at your father’s memorial service.”

  “Yes … I do have to work on that. Maybe … yes, I’ll put this aside until I finish the appreciation.”

  Alastar was definitely beginning to wonder what game Lorien was playing at. The young rex couldn’t be that scattered, and there was no reek of lager or stronger spirits about him. Or was he stalling on the tariff issue?

  “I take it that Marshal Petayn has again conveyed his concern that the tariff increase that the High Holders will accept is insufficient to maintain his oversized and underutilized army?”

  “I would appreciate it, Maitre, if you would not presume about what others may or may not have said to me, or what their concerns may be.”

  “He’s already said that twice, if not more, in my presence. I’m not presuming when I state a position he himself has stated so directly. You and your father need additional revenues. I have arranged for additional revenues. The Collegium has paid dearly for that arrangement. Your father paid dearly for not being able to accept any arrangement.”

  “You have made that very clear, Maitre. But I have to live with whatever arrangement is made.”

  “If you make the mistakes your father made, that life will not be pleasant, and it may not be all that long, given the unrest among the High Holders and within the army.”

  “And the Collegium? Is that a veiled threat?”

  “Stating what is obvious, Lorien, is neither veiled nor a threat. It is the situation you face. The longer you put off issuing an acceptable tariff schedule, the more the High Holders will feel that you are indecisive or trying to scheme for higher tariffs. In addition, the longer before you receive this year’s tariffs. None of those conditions will improve your position as rex.”

  “And what of the army, which is oversized and rather close? And not very pleased with your disposal of Marshal Demykalon.”

  “You will either control the army, or it will control you.”

  “That is easy enough for you to say, Maitre, but I am not an imager.”

  “No, you are not. But, provided you act sensibly, you have the Collegium behind you, and the Collegium would far rather have you ruling Solidar than either the army or the High Council.”

  “I find it interesting that you profess no interest in ruling.”

  “I also profess no interest in seeing all but a handful of imagers killed or fleeing and forced into hiding, and that, as I have told you, is what would come of any imager attempting to rule. Worse would occur, if somewhat later, should an imager actually come to rule.”

  “You believe that?”

  “It is what has happened in every land on Terahnar except Solidar.”

  Lorien shook his head. “Enough! I must consider. We will discuss this further tomorrow.”

  Alastar could tell that, for whatever reason, Lorien was not about to issue the tariff proclamation immediately, and that he felt Alastar could not force the issue. And you can’t, because if another rex dies in his study with you present, that will have the same effect as would the Collegium attacking directly. He simply nodded. “Until tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Lorien did not look at Alastar, but turned toward the window. “Until then.”

  Alastar did not say more, but slipped out of the study. Who’s gotten to him … and with what? Alastar’s immediate reaction was that Petayn had offered a
veiled threat … or perhaps one not even veiled. That’s what you’ve been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, there were other possibilities as well, less likely but still possible.

  Alastar had just reached the bottom of the grand staircase when Lady Asarya appeared. “We meet again.”

  “You have certainly managed to meet me once more.” Alastar made his voice light.

  “You had a rather pensive expression. Worry doesn’t become you, Maitre.” Lady Asarya smiled, a pleasant expression that offered warmth and made Alastar again realize that she was still a quite attractive woman. She wore garments tailored in what Alastar perceived as her usual style—tunic, trousers, and boots—but the tunic and trousers were green trimmed in black—mourning colors. The boots were black. “Have you a moment?”

  “For you … of course.”

  “Then we should go to the salon—mine. This way…”

  Alastar could think of several reasons for that, but merely nodded as he moved to walk beside her toward the south corridor. After a moment, he added, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Asarya smiled politely. “The black and green are for propriety, not loss. There’s little point in hypocrisy, is there? Ryen and I hadn’t been remotely close for more than twenty years. Appearances are necessary. That is all. What’s important is that my son has a better future, thanks to certain imagers from the Collegium, and that the High Holders are brought into line.”

  “And your sons? How do they feel?”

  “They have lost their father. How would you expect them to feel?”

  “I have no expectations, Lady. Some sons are grief-struck at the loss of a parent. Some are relieved. Some are greatly saddened and carry on. I would not presume to guess. Just as I would not presume to guess at the reasons why you have managed to encounter me more than is likely to have happened by mere happenstance.”

  “Never disregard happenstance, Maitre. Nor chance. Nor what appears to be chance and is not. You are right. Not all of our meetings have been happenstance. I did want to meet with the Maitre who has done so much to keep outright rebellion from happening.”