“There is that risk, and I appreciate your pointing it out.” Charyn rose. “Again, I do wish to offer my thanks.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
The slightly amused smile that accompanied Elthyrd’s words concerned Charyn, because the factor’s expression suggested Charyn was missing something.
Once he had left the timber factorage, Charyn directed the coach north to the Sud Bridge and back across the river, and then south to Paersyt’s factorage. When Charyn entered the factorage, with Yarselt at his back, the factor looked up from the workbench.
“It’s been a few days, Lord Charyn.”
“I must apologize, but my time is not always my own. I am still very interested in the possibilities of your engine.”
“You seem to be one of the few. Almost no one else is interested, except for a few factors who have deep mines.”
“Why not? You’ve said that they could move flatboats and maybe even ships. There have to be places where that would be useful.”
“The engines cost too much.”
“What if you made them the way they do rifles?” asked Charyn. “Wouldn’t that be cheaper?”
“How could I do that? I don’t have the golds to buy or make the equipment … or the space or the turning benches. I’d need a complete manufactory.”
“Could you, if you did?”
“Anything can be done with enough golds … and time. It would take time. And thousands of golds.”
“Is anyone else trying it?”
“I don’t know of anyone. Most people think I’m a fool for what I’ve spent already for only a few mines.”
“They think you more the fool for trying to make something that doesn’t exist and that very few people would want when you could make other things right now that would bring in more golds?”
“Golds aren’t everything, but without them you can’t do much of anything.” Paersyt offered a harsh sound somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “I want to make something that will change everything, and that takes even more golds.”
“How would your engine change things besides making boats go faster or against the current?”
“All sorts of ways. Looms wouldn’t have to be built near the rivers. Ships wouldn’t have to wait for the wind or tide…”
Charyn listened as Paersyt came up with a listing of improbable possibilities, then asked, “You really think all those are possible?”
“They’re possible if people want to pay for them.”
“You’ve given me some things to think about,” Charyn finally said.
Paersyt offered a skeptical look.
“I do mean that, but, at the moment, what I can do is limited. What you need will take thousands of golds. While I have some golds, I don’t have that many. There may be other possibilities. It will take a little time to look into them.” Time and persuasion.
“At least you’re honest about it.”
“I try.” When circumstances allow.
After leaving Paersyt, Charyn then directed the coach to the exchange. There, once again, Yarselt followed directly behind him as he made his way to the center door.
One of the guards stepped forward. “Sir … do you have a card as well … as your pin?”
Although the guard’s tone was very polite, Charyn had to force himself to reply calmly. “I do.” He was just glad he’d been told of the possibility. “Bursar Thalyr said I might need it.” He eased the card from his jacket.
The guard studied it for a moment and handed it back. “Thank you, Factor Suyrien.”
“You’re welcome.” Charyn managed a pleasant smile and a nod. Behind, he heard the few words said by the one guard to the other.
“… another young one … lose a fortune…”
While there were certainly more ways to lose fortunes than to gain them, particularly in trading on the exchange, Charyn had no intention of buying or selling anything until he knew a great deal more. He did want to learn if he could get a better price for his own crops at the exchange. But that meant paying for transport to L’Excelsis, unless the buyer was closer to Talyon, although transport costs shouldn’t be that high, given that Chaeryll wasn’t that far from the River Aluse. Shouldn’t doesn’t mean that’s the way it is. That meant more things he needed to look into.
After Elthyrd’s words about pepper, Charyn made his way toward the stalls that handled spices. One look at the slates that held the prices, especially the futures’ prices, and the number of traders or agents—agents wore brass sheaf pin with a blue stone—told Charyn that the Jariolan privateers, or some other causes, if not both, were definitely having an effect.
Charyn recalled that because Solidar didn’t have that much tin, that was another commodity that came from the northern continents, and he walked to the north end of the exchange building. Only one of the metals’ stalls seemed to have many traders or agents around, and that was, as he had suspected, the one handling tin and copper. Copper prices were down, which puzzled him. Was that because there wasn’t enough tin to make bronze … or for some other reason?
He stood back and to one side, watching and listening.
“… third ship this month carrying tin … sent to the bottom…”
“… want tin … best use … Jariolan bottom…”
“… copper down … can’t make bronze without tin…”
“… Ferrans shipping our copper to Abierto Isles … Diamond ships the only copper haulers not laid up…”
“… always have been armed…”
“… Abiertans … clip a dead man’s coppers…”
“… Ferrans … just take ’em before he’s even cold…”
For more than two glasses, Charyn walked from stall to stall, checking back on several, including potatoes, wheat corn, tin, copper, and maize. He also listened intently, then left knowing that he would arrive back at the chateau when his father would be meeting with Ryel, Elthyrd, and Maitre Alastar.
When Charyn returned to the Chateau D’Rex, he got out of the carriage in the rear courtyard, removed the exchange pin from his coat, then entered the chateau through the main rear door, and made his way up the grand staircase, only to find his mother at the top, clearly waiting for him.
“I presume you have a moment, Charyn.”
“Always.”
Chelia turned and led the way to her sitting room.
Charyn did close the door when he followed her. He sat in the straight-backed chair that he picked up and placed opposite his mother, who had seated herself in the pale blue velvet armchair that was her favorite. “You are concerned about something?”
“Where were you this morning … and for most of the day? Your departure and return were tactfully and exquisitely timed to avoid your father’s observation. You also did not directly violate his order about riding.”
“I had to see Factorius Elthyrd and Factorius Paersyt. Then I visited the exchange.”
Surprisingly, Chelia did not frown. “Why the exchange?”
“Because I believe what happens there tells more about what occurs across Solidar than all those scattered reports Father receives.”
“You know your father would not believe that, don’t you?”
“That’s why I’ve told him little of it.”
“I thought the exchange was limited to its members.”
“Members or their guests. Factor Elthyrd has been most helpful in that regard.”
“What has he asked of you in return?”
“Thus far … nothing.”
“There will be a price, you know?”
“I’m quite certain of that, but since I’ve asked very little of him, except an introduction to the bursar of the exchange, under the land name at Chaeryll, I can refuse any unreasonable price, and even Father has not found the factor to be unreasonable.”
“Or not excessively so.” Chelia paused. “Under the land name?”
“I’m known at the exchange as Factor Suyrien or Suyrien D’Chaeryll.
Since Elthyrd and Paersyt are likely the only factors who know me by sight, a single bodyguard in a nondescript coat seems adequate, and that is permitted as a matter of course.”
“That does surprise me. That is more like … other relations, but wise.” Chelia went on, “Over the past two months, you’ve taken a great interest in matters about which you have shown little interest in the past.”
“You would like to know why?”
“It might be interesting. It might even be helpful.”
Charyn fingered his chin, as if contemplating how to best address her interest. “It occurred to me that Father is still a young man. He has kept telling me that I have much more time to learn all that he was forced to learn quickly. I realized that others might regard the matter in a similar fashion, and that, over time, if I were not beginning to learn, and equally, being seen to learn and to take an interest in matters of import to those ruled, this would not reflect favorably upon either Father or me.” He paused. “Also, truth be told, riding, hunting, and most other pastimes seem to have lost their overriding interest.”
“Yet you still practice the clavecin, although there is no charge laid upon you to do so.”
“Palenya has kindled a certain interest in my learning more about music.”
“You must admit that this change occurred rather suddenly. What spurred it?”
Charyn smiled sheepishly. About that, there was no reason to dissemble. “My lack of marksmanship with pistols. I went to visit the factor who made the best pistols, only to find out that he no longer crafted them, but I saw what he was trying to build.” He shrugged. “Somehow, the perfect pistol no longer seemed that important. And then I wondered why such a talented factor would abandon something that paid so well … and, from that, one thing led to another.”
“That seems too unrealistic to be anything but the truth, especially since I’ve been able to verify certain aspects, even if you doubtless omitted what you feel I should not hear.” Chelia’s voice turned drier. “How long can we expect this unexpected transformation to last?”
“I still enjoy riding, and other pastimes, as you termed them, but not to the exclusion of newer interests that I feel will lead to a greater understanding of the challenges that Father faces and that in time I also may face.”
“So nicely stated.”
“I would hope so,” replied Charyn.
Chelia offered an amused smile. “What is your immediate goal?”
“A reputation for seriousness and intelligence.”
“Beyond that?”
“Power and wealth of the kind that won’t diminish or encroach upon Father.”
“Working with factors?”
“That’s the only possible avenue. Working with High Holders would be seen as disloyal … and would be.”
“At least, you’ve thought this out to some degree.” After another pause, she said, “That’s all I need to know. Don’t leave the chateau. After your father finishes with Maitre Alastar and Guard Captain Churwyl, he wants to meet with all the family.”
“Do you know what happened in the meeting with … the others?”
“Not at the moment. Your father will tell me when we have a moment.”
Which meant that even then she wasn’t about to tell him. Charyn nodded.
After leaving his mother, he made his way to his own chambers, where he stood before the sitting room window, looking south across the gardens where, in the late fall day, the only green came from the various evergreens and pondering over what his father might be discussing with Maitre Alastar.
It wasn’t until after fourth glass that the regial family gathered in Lorien’s study, seated around the oblong conference table, with Lorien at the head, and Chelia to his right. Charyn sat to his father’s left, across from his mother, with Bhayrn beside him, and Aloryana next to her mother.
Lorien surveyed the other four in the study, starting with Celia and ending with Charyn, who had the feeling that his father’s gaze lingered on him just slightly longer, then cleared his throat once more before speaking. “All that Guard Captain Churwyl and his men have been able to find out about the shooter is that he did wear a brown cloak. It was caught on a bush. There were no other signs.” After a moment, he held up a single sheet. “This message was handed to Guard Captain Churwyl just after midday today and before I was to meet with High Holder Ryel, Factor Elthyrd, and Maitre Alastar. The man who delivered the missive was clad in the usual brown and black uniform of a public messenger. He likely was not one. The guard captain asked for the sender. The messenger said he’d been paid three silvers to deliver it by a well-dressed man in front of the Civic Patrol headquarters. I’d like each of you to read it. Say nothing until you all have finished reading it.” Lorien handed the single sheet to Charyn, adding, “Your mother has already read it.”
The first thing that struck Charyn was how much his father’s hand shook as he handed the document over. The second was the clarity of the hand that had penned the words … and the brevity of the message.
What happened yesterday was a warning. It was also a promise. Unless Rex Lorien immediately announces and begins to implement stronger steps to halt the attacks on and the destruction of Solidaran ships and crews, and other threats to the healthy commerce of Solidar, the next attack will fall on someone more significant or more beloved.
There was no signature.
Charyn passed the sheet to Bhayrn. Bhayrn frowned, then handed it to Aloryana, whose eyes widened as she read. She in turn handed the sheet to Chelia, who returned it to Lorien.
“I’d like your thoughts in turn, beginning with you, Charyn.”
“Whoever wrote this wants you to believe it’s from a merchant or factor. It could be, but it doesn’t mean that it is.”
Chelia looked at Charyn. “You have some contacts among the factors. Have they said anything?”
“I understand that the price of spices, especially pepper, is much higher. So is tin. The price of copper is down. Several factors, possibly more than that, have lost ships to Jariolan privateers—”
“Factor Elthyrd’s been complaining about that for months,” said Lorien dourly. “That’s nothing new.”
The fact that it’s been going on for months without you doing anything might be why some factors are upset. Charyn wasn’t about to voice that thought.
“Dear … do you think some factors might be upset … even angry?” Chelia’s words were spoken pleasantly.
“They don’t want to pay the tariffs to build more ships. Neither do the High Holders.”
“So one group wants more warships, and one doesn’t?” asked Bhayrn.
“And no one wants to pay for them,” snapped Lorien.
“Has anyone else received a threat?” asked Aloryana.
“High Holder Ryel has. He didn’t share the actual message, just that he and his entire family have been threatened if the High Council doesn’t support stronger measures against the Jariolans.” Lorien turned to Charyn. “You’ve met with Elthyrd. Did he say anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“What about the toolmaker … Palsyt, is it?”
“Paersyt, sir. He builds things. He’s never even talked about trade or ships.”
Lorien shook his head. “If that’s all…” He stopped as Chelia shot a glance at him.
“What are you going to do?” asked Chelia. “The last time…”
“I know. The first thing is to appear to do something. I can announce that the Jariolan piracy is unacceptable and that our warships will be ordered to attack any privateers preying on our ships … and that we will build more warships than we had previously planned, beginning immediately. We have enough golds in reserve to build one additional ship, possibly two. I’ll also announce that significant additional shipbuilding cannot take place without a tariff increase, and that we will discuss that at the next meeting of the Factors’ Council and the High Council. That won’t set well with High Holder Oskaryn. He’s violently opposed t
o any increase in tariffs.”
“We’re supposed to be shot at because he won’t pay a few more golds every year?” asked Bhayrn.
“Quite a number of High Holders feel that way,” said Chelia mildly.
“There’s no point in talking about that now.” Lorien went on, “I also asked Maitre Alastar to see if he and the imagers could assist in discovering who is behind this threat. That’s why he stayed a bit longer. I’ve already talked to Churwyl about bringing on more guards. He has been suggesting we could use more. We can have some of them patrol the hunting park more often. Once they’re in place, we’ll see about riding there again. In the meantime, we also won’t be going to services at the anomen. Service times are too well known.”
That was fine with Charyn. Services were tedious.
“Isn’t there anything … else?” asked Chelia.
“Besides what I’ve suggested, what you do have in mind?”
“You could impose a higher import tariff on Jariolan ships and cargoes until the piracy stops.”
“That won’t exactly please the factors,” replied Lorien. “I could send a missive to Elthyrd suggesting that as another possibility for raising the golds for more ships, especially in view of the fact that so many factors oppose increased tariffs on their factorages.” He paused. “There’s not much more to be said right now.”
“What about the Year-Turn Ball?” asked Aloryana. “Are you going to cancel it? You aren’t, are you?”
“Why would I do that? Especially now?”
Bhayrn’s frown was obvious.
“The High Council is invited, and the members of the Solidaran Factors’ Council.” At Bhayrn’s expression of surprise, Lorien added, “I added the factors to make a point to the High Holders, and it won’t hurt to require all of them to come here, especially since we won’t be the ones exposed.”
Charyn managed not to nod, but he did notice the faintest hint of a smile cross his mother’s lips.
Lorien stood. “I’ll see you all at dinner.”
9
After breakfast on Samedi, Charyn was debating how to spend the day most productively, since the exchange was not open, and since neither Alucar nor Sanafryt worked on Samedi, and certainly not Aevidyr, not that Charyn had approached the Minister of Administration all that often. He was spared an immediate decision when he abruptly realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had never destroyed the letter he’d written to Ferrand on Jeudi, a letter he’d never given to the chateau messenger because of the attack on Bhayrn and his guards.
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