The music room was indeed empty, and Charyn closed the doors. He didn’t know the duet nearly as well as he would have liked, and he preferred to make his mistakes muted by the solid doors.
11
Again on Mardi morning, Charyn was up early, first meeting with Norstan, and then heading out in the plain carriage, first to see Elthyrd, and then to visit the exchange again. After that, he’d see.
When the carriage rolled to a halt outside Elthyrd’s factorage, Charyn hurried out, followed by Yarselt. Although Charyn didn’t expect to see the factor on the piers, he paused to look … and in fact saw the older man walking swiftly toward him. He moved to meet the factor, then waited for Elthyrd to take the last few steps.
“How is your family?” asked Elthyrd.
“They’re fine. How is yours?”
“The same as always. I wasn’t certain I’d be seeing you, after all that happened last week.”
“As long as I dress more like a factor and take a plain carriage…” Charyn shrugged. “Most people don’t know what I look like, and those that do aren’t likely to shoot at me. That’s what I hope, anyway.”
“Especially if you use the land name.”
“That helps.”
“I imagine you’d like to know my feelings about the threat … and anything I might know.”
“If you’d care to give them. I’m not the one to press.”
Elthyrd chuckled ironically. “There is a certain implication behind your words.”
“They’re absolutely truthful.”
“So is the implication, but I appreciate the relative directness. First, I have no idea who made the threat. Second, if I had to guess, I’d say that it had to come from a large factor or a High Holder heavily invested in shipping. Third, whoever it is likely used intermediaries. Fourth, whoever it is has little faith in the High Council and the Solidaran Factors’ Council reaching an agreement that will allow the rex to increase tariffs enough to allow the building of a significantly larger number of warships.”
“From what I’ve heard and overheard, no one wants higher tariffs, and only some factors feel the need for more warships to protect Solidaran ships and trade. Or is my information incorrect … or incomplete?”
“That you’re asking reveals a certain … openness. In fact … what you’re suggesting is close to the current situation. Most factors feel that they have been overtariffed for years, if not decades, and all too many High Holders feel that higher tariffs will ruin them.”
“Is that feeling justified by any facts?” asked Charyn.
“There are a number of High Holders who continue to manage their lands in a fashion that will not allow the most effective use of those lands. They are reluctant to change their ways, and any measurable increase in tariffs will see them facing ruin if they do not change.”
“What sort of change would increased tariffs require?”
“The problem is not just one of increased tariffs. Over the past ten years, and even longer, certain parts of Solidar, especially the lands to the west of L’Excelsis in old Bovaria, parts of Piedryn, and much of old Tilbor have suffered excessively bad weather, several early and late frosts, floods and excessive rains in midsummer, droughts at other times. This has happened year after year. Those High Holders who have changed what and when they planted have prospered. Those who did not are struggling, and many are near ruin. Higher tariffs will likely push many of them into ruin or into relinquishing their rights and position as High Holders, if not both.”
Charyn had certainly heard his father’s complaints about High Holders whining over the weather, but those words hadn’t been put the way Elthyrd did—which, unhappily, made more sense. “I’ve heard about the weather for years.”
“I’m certain you have. That’s not the entire problem. Now that the factors have become more prosperous, more and more small holders are selling their produce to them or even in some cases on the exchanges. They’re producing more, and that keeps prices lower. Not a great deal, but enough—”
“That it makes it even harder on the High Holders who aren’t managing their lands as well as they could.”
Elthyrd nodded.
“What about the factors? Wouldn’t a tariff that built more warships help them?”
“Over time, it would. But it would help those in shipping and the spice trade far more than the others.”
Charyn nodded. “I can see that.” He wasn’t sure he did, but it seemed wise to agree. “I appreciate your thoughts. Do you think your son—the one who owns the Banque D’Excelsis—would mind talking to me about these and other matters?”
Elthyrd laughed, not softly, but not heartily. “At least he’d know you weren’t asking for golds.”
“When it seems appropriate, I’d appreciate it if you’d mention that I might like to see him sometime. Does he look like you?”
“Not much. He’s got a square-cut black beard, and all his hair, unlike his father. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
Charyn understood what hadn’t been said, as well. “Thank you. I won’t take any more of your time, but I do appreciate your sharing your knowledge and experience.”
Elthyrd merely nodded.
In turn, Charyn inclined his head, then turned, and made his way back to the carriage, where he told the driver, “Now to Delcoeur D’Alte’s.”
As he climbed into the carriage, Charyn considered what Elthyrd had said … and what he had not, even as he studied the surroundings he passed.
The L’Excelsis dwelling of Delcoeur D’Alte was on the east side of the River Aluse, but northeast of the Nord Bridge. Charyn studied the river, and then Imagisle, as the carriage carried him north along the East River Road and past the “new” bridge that linked the isle to the eastern side of the city, by far the larger and more populous section. While he could see the upper levels of the imagers’ anomen, and one taller gray stone building, for the most part, he could only glimpse parts of other buildings, given the trees that appeared to edge most of the isle. The gray stone river walls, and especially the grayish blue waters split by the northern pointed end of those ramparts that split the waters of the river into two, almost like the prow of a ship, gave the isle the look of a massive vessel heading upstream.
He still wondered how the first imagers had managed such impressive stoneworks that looked so recently constructed after four centuries, but then, they’d rebuilt the Chateau D’Rex at the same time, and its walls still looked almost new, and the stone was impervious to the sharpest blade.
The single guard at the gate to High Holder Delcoeur’s “town” dwelling looked to be more like Bhayrn’s age. Wearing frayed tan livery trimmed in green, he had to struggle to open the gate that squeaked noisily as he tugged it wide enough to let the carriage enter, and then when he closed it.
Ferrand was standing on the narrow portico by the time Charyn left the carriage and climbed the three steps to the entry terrace. “I thought I might hear from you sooner … but here you are.”
“I wrote you a letter, but then some things happened, and I couldn’t send it. So I decided it would be better just to drop in and hope you were here.”
“I’m not going many places. Not now.” Ferrand glanced back at the ancient bronze doors of the main entrance, then nodded in the direction of his father’s study.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’d hoped that selling the pistols might help a bit. You know that even my personal inheritance is managed by Alucar. That doesn’t leave me much in the way of golds to spend.”
“I understand not having much to spend. You do have something to look forward to.”
“Is it that bad?”
Ferrand lowered his voice. “Worse. He came back from the Banque D’Aluse yesterday in a foul mood.” He gestured. “We can go to the front parlor. No one will bother us there.”
Charyn understood that message as well. He followed his cousin, noticing that there was no footman standing inside the entry doors.
On
ce in the parlor, Ferrand gestured to the armchairs, waited until Charyn took the one from where he could watch both Ferrand and the archway off the entry hall, then seated himself in the other. “So what happened to bring you here?”
“Someone took a shot at Bhayrn and brought down his horse. The shooter also killed a guard.”
“I did wonder why you came by carriage. You usually ride.”
“Father doesn’t want any of us riding until the matter is resolved.”
“Do you know why?”
“It’s something to do with tariffs. And warships. Again.” Charyn offered a sigh. “It is tiresome. I do hope you will come to the Year-Turn Ball.”
“I talked to Mother about it. Father just might agree. We’ll see. It would be nice to see a few people.”
Without incurring an obligation you can’t repay. Charyn nodded.
“Is there anything else of interest?”
“We’re having a guest. It’s rather strange. Malyna D’Zaerlyn. That’s her name. I believe she may arrive at the chateau this afternoon.”
“Zaerlyn … Zaerlyn. Oh … the … ceramics High Holder. They only go back a few generations. They bought the title. That was when matters like that were easier. Come-latelies. I’ve never heard of her, though. She must be the youngest daughter. I knew there was one. Not that anyone would pay much attention to that family, anyway.”
“I gather that’s not surprising. They don’t have any presence in L’Excelsis. They never have had.”
“Then why are you guesting her?”
“Zaerlyn’s been helpful to Father in some fashion, and he asked if she could stay at the chateau in order to attend the Year-Turn Ball. Father agreed.”
“Matchmaking, yet. They’ve decided your time has come. She’ll only be the first.” Ferrand paused. “How old is she?”
“Nineteen. Mother says she’s not my type.”
“She said that?”
“She did.”
“She knows you too well, Charyn. By telling you that you couldn’t possibly get along with this girl, she’s playing to your contrary nature.”
“I’d thought that. Perhaps I should make over her. Or perhaps you should … if you come to the ball. She might even have a handsome dowry.”
“She’ll have to be very good-looking … and not too strong-willed. A little spirit, but only a little.” Ferrand smiled wanly. “A little spirit in a woman goes a long way. Aunt Asarya proved that.” He paused, then closed his mouth without saying more.
“No one in my family talks much about Grandmother.” Charyn knew that his father’s feelings for his mother were anything but warm, and his own mother had never mentioned Asarya. Ever. Not in his hearing. Charyn himself had no recollection of her.
“Father detested her.”
“Why?”
“Because of her dowry. Why else?”
Charyn had heard that before. He’d even looked into the records. His grandmother’s dowry hadn’t been that much, but it likely made a good excuse for Delcoeur’s inability to pay for his extravagances. “Then you should look for a High Holder’s daughter with a healthy dowry.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to pay that price.” Ferrand shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be any other choice, not that I’ll have much say in the matter.”
After another glass of conversation, Charyn excused himself and directed the coach back south along the East River Road.
It was well after ninth glass when he entered the exchange, again having to show his card. He did wonder just how long it would be before he was recognized enough that he didn’t have to present the card. The exchange was slightly more crowded than it had been on Lundi, which surprised him, after Elthyrd’s comments about Lundi being a busy day. He noted that the futures price of pepper had dropped, if only slightly, and wheat was holding, but then, oak futures were up, and there were several agents gathered at that stall.
He positioned himself behind a rotund clerk who was jotting down figures and did his best to listen.
“… saw you at the Yellow Rose, Burchyrd … don’t think she was your sister…”
“… couldn’t have … you were losing at Tydaal’s…”
“… not me … always do my losing at Alamara’s…”
“… think Haaslm’s cousin’s right?”
“… got to build more ships sometime…”
“… price’ll drop, and your man’ll lose a bright thousand…”
The conversation returned to even more personal matters, and after a time, Charyn eased away. While he doubted his memory was perfect, he wasn’t seeing much change in other prices, except in goods from Otelyrn, and after another glass, he left the exchange, emerging into a cold wind very much at odds with the bright sunlight.
Snow tonight … or just cold rain? He didn’t see any clouds, even two quints later when the carriage turned onto the ring road and then climbed the gentle slope of the rear lane to the back courtyard of the chateau, a courtyard largely empty except for two kitchen sculls trudging out to the renderer’s collection yard.
Once the carriage stopped, Charyn strode across the paving stones to the rear entrance and then inside. Bhayrn lounged against the archway wall at the back of the small rear entry foyer. He straightened slowly as Charyn crossed the foyer.
“Good afternoon,” offered Charyn cheerfully.
“It’s afternoon. Not a particularly good one. Why do you get to go out and I don’t?”
“Because I’m doing things that Father agrees I should continue doing.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll have to take that up with Father.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Charyn started to step around his younger brother.
“You’re not making things easier for me, either, by playing that duet with Aloryana.”
“You’re the one making it hard on yourself. All you have to do is practice more and listen to what Musician Palenya tells you.”
“She’s just a musician.”
“She knows more about music than either one of us will ever know. If you want to get better at anything, listen to those who know more than you do.”
“You should talk. You only listen to her because she’s—”
“Enough.” Even though Bhayrn was likely partly right with what he had been about to say, Charyn had no intention of admitting it to his younger brother. “She doesn’t have a choice. You have a problem with me, it’s with me. Don’t take it out on people who can’t defend themselves.”
“Aren’t you the champion.”
I wish I were. “No. I’m no champion. We both know that. Neither are you.”
For a moment, Bhayrn looked vaguely surprised. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Malyna D’Zaerlyn. She’s even pretty. She arrived in a plain carriage. No livery on the driver, but two guards.”
“Where is she now?”
“Mother and Aloryana are getting her settled in the guest chambers at the west end of the north wing. Well away from your chambers.”
“Or yours.”
“She’s too old for me.”
“Three years is nothing. Besides, you can learn from older women.”
“Like you have?”
“I have. I’m not ashamed of it.”
“That’s just because they wanted to protect you. I’ll be fortunate if a serving girl even looks at me.”
That may be, but part of that is you. “Time will tell.”
“Platitudes don’t make you any wiser, Brother.”
“No. But sometimes they’re right.”
“And sometimes they’re not.” Bhayrn turned and walked toward the grand staircase.
At the sound of lighter footsteps, Charyn turned to see Aloryana and another girl—or rather a young woman—dressed in a conservative green dress and matching jacket. Aloryana was talking as they approached.
“… receiving parlor is to the right beyond the grand staircase … and t
here’s a study on this side … kept closed most of the time…”
Charyn studied Malyna closely, hopefully without being unduly obvious about it, as she approached. She was almost petite, but a trace too trimly muscular for that, and perhaps a little more than half a head shorter than he was. Her skin was a light almost unnoticeable honeyed brown. Her nose was modest but straight, and her hair was light brown. Her chin was slightly square. Her black eyes fixed on him. She stopped a yard or so away and offered the slightest of curtseys, saying, “Lord Charyn,” and lowering her eyes.
“You must be Malyna,” he said.
“I am, and I appreciate your father’s kindness, and that of your entire family.”
“Please just call me Charyn.”
“Except in public, I will, if that is your wish.”
“It is.”
“Charyn,” interjected Aloryana, “I still have to show Malyna the rest of the main level and introduce her to Musician Palenya and some of the rest of the staff.”
“Of course.” Charyn stepped back. “Until later.”
“You can flirt with her at dinner,” declared Aloryana.
That took Charyn slightly off-guard, but he managed an indulgent smile, before turning and heading up to find Minister Sanafryt … and possibly access to some of the records. Still, as he climbed the grand staircase, he was puzzled. He’d expected almost anything but what he’d seen.
Malyna was attractive, perhaps not a raving beauty, but far more attractive than the majority of High Holders’ daughters he’d seen over the years. Her voice had been firm, reservedly warm, and her initial gaze had been direct, but hadn’t lingered or been flirtatious. What he’d seen looked to be very much his type.
So had Ferrand been right, that his mother had said all that to pique his interest? Except she had always been direct, if softly so, and any sort of contrary game-playing statements had been nonexistent in her relations with any of them. Including Father.
Charyn was still puzzled when he entered the family parlor before dinner. The only ones there were Aloryana and Malyna. Both looked from where they shared the settee.
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