Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Precisely. There were certain aspects of precedent in the tariffs that required a specific … correction.”

  “What else do the older documents tell you about Minister Vaelora?”

  “She was very careful and very precise. I don’t know that I would have liked her, but I think I would have respected her. I have the feeling that the first Rex Regis felt the same way.”

  Charyn frowned, not wanting to voice his question.

  “There aren’t any proclamations or ‘clarifications’ to the initial Codex Legis. I consulted with Sanafryt on that. She and her husband apparently drafted the Codex Legis. Since the three lived a number of years after the establishment of Solidar, the fact that there were no changes during that period suggests that the three were in agreement and that there were few problems.”

  “Did she have any children?”

  “I have no idea. There might be records at the Collegium. Why do you ask?”

  “Her name came up, and I wondered.”

  “Once she left the chateau and entered the Collegium, there are few mentions of her. Almost none, as I recall.”

  “Thank you.”

  Aevidyr nodded, and Charyn left the study, closing the door quietly, still wondering why the sister of the rex would marry an imager. Certainly, imager men did marry women who were not imagers. They had to, because there had always been fewer women imagers. But why would she have allowed it? Or had Rex Regis insisted on it to keep some control over the first Maitre? Charyn doubted whether he’d ever know that.

  As he headed up the grand staircase, he could hear someone playing the clavecin, pounding out the notes, then stopping almost immediately. That could only be Bhayrn. He had not quite reached the top of the stairs, when Vaetor hurried from the northwest corridor.

  “Lord Charyn, sir…”

  “The rex, I assume, requests my presence?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charyn repressed a sigh. What now? Instead, he smiled pleasantly. “Thank you. I’m on my way.”

  He had barely entered the study and closed the door when Lorien looked up.

  “Where were you this time?”

  “Learning a few things from Minister Aevidyr.”

  “You’re not keeping my ministers from their work with all this … are you?”

  “No, sir. They set me a problem or a legal petition or a question and leave me to work it out. Later they explain where I was right, and where I was wrong, and there’s usually something I missed.”

  “What was Aevidyr explaining?”

  “How what is in the records, and what is not, still reveals aspects of administration. What to look for that should be there and is not. Those sorts of things.”

  “You’re still not going to be rex any time soon.”

  “I have absolutely no desire to be rex any time soon.” So far, the more Charyn had seen and learned, just in the past few months, made him wonder if he even wanted to be rex.

  “Well … I’ll add to your learning. You worried about the factors sitting on their hands and not doing anything, There’s some good news. Finally, some of those shipping weasels are showing some spine. It’s about time.” Lorien gestured to the chairs.

  “They’re supporting you?” asked Charyn as he seated himself.

  “Not from a factor. Direct support from them would be too much to expect,” replied Lorien sarcastically. “There’s a High Holder in Nacliano who owns all the Diamond ships. One of his ships used its guns and sank two Jariolan privateers.”

  That doesn’t exactly mean much as far as the factors are concerned. Charyn wasn’t about to say anything like that. “Yesterday, Vice-Marshal Maurek told me that two navy warships sank two other privateers and chased off a Jariolan frigate.” Maurek hadn’t said the ship type, but if it was smaller than the Solidaran ships and near the Abierto Isles, it likely had to be a frigate.

  “That’s a start. A few more weeks like that … and maybe the factors will see.”

  “They should have seen before this, sir.”

  “All they care about is golds. Their golds. We’ve talked about this before.” Lorien barked a laugh. “Namer-damned shame that a High Holder can see what those gold-grubbing merchants can’t.”

  “It does seem strange.”

  “Life can be strange. Since you’re here, tell me anything you’ve learned from all your visits to the exchange.”

  “The factors don’t think matters are going to change with shipping to Otelyrn. The present prices of pepper and other spices are higher, and the prices for pepper even six months out are higher.”

  “I said they were greedy bastards. Go on.”

  Charyn smiled pleasantly before clearing his throat. He was going to be in the study for at least a glass, unless someone else interrupted.

  20

  The snow hurled itself out of the northeast, falling so fast and furiously that, in less than a glass, by late afternoon on Meredi, the steep white stone steps of the Chateau D’Rex were covered knee-deep, and none could tell where stone ended and snow began. The gardens were simply lost under the snow. Since it was the thirty-second of Finitas, winter had not even begun, at least according to the calendar.

  Chill radiated from the upper-level window from where Charyn looked down at the snow-covered drive and the curtain of falling white that blocked any further view of the expansive lands to the south of the Chateau D’Rex and beyond the ring road. He turned toward Aloryana, still seated at the small plaques table, who, at times, looked much older than her fourteen years. “If this continues, Father may have to cancel the Year-Turn Ball.” He kept even the hint of a smile from his lips as he waited for a response.

  “These storms pass, Brother dear. It is only Meredi. Besides, what’s a little snow?” Aloryana’s voice was even and measured. “I’m quite certain that there will be a ball and that we will be there.”

  Charyn doubted his sister felt that calm. The Year-Turn Ball would be the first their father had permitted her to attend.

  “Besides,” Aloryana went on, “Father has agreed that Malyna should have this one chance to attend a Year-Turn Ball.”

  “The weather doesn’t much care what commitments a rex may make,” replied Charyn dryly. “Where is Malyna, by the way?”

  “Talking to Mother. Mother said it would be a while. She told me, almost ordered me, to come play plaques with you and keep you busy.”

  “As if I could go anywhere in this storm? I can’t even study with any of the ministers. They stayed home.”

  “Anyway,” Aloryana continued inexorably, “if the snow gets too deep, surely the imagers could remove mere snow on the main boulevards.”

  “Father would never ask them. You know that.”

  “He wouldn’t have to. The Maitre and his wife are coming. They always do. They’d have to clear their own path.”

  “You want to see them, don’t you?” Charyn let the hangings fall back across the window to block the chill. He turned and moved toward the table. “Or have them see you.”

  “I’ve seen them before, at the Year-Turn Balls.”

  Only from the corridor when they came up the grand staircase. Charyn didn’t voice that thought, but asked dryly, “You’re not impressed by the successor of your distant cousin?”

  “We’re not related to the Maitre in any fashion. He came from nothing, and he’s from Westisle.”

  “You’re right. Most Maitres have come from nothing, and we’re not related to him. You might like to know, however, that we are not only descended from the first Rex Regis, but we’re also distant cousins of the first Maitre’s wife, who was the sister of that Rex Regis.”

  “You’re making that up. Another story.” Aloryana sounded annoyed.

  “Actually, I’m not. Her name was Vaelora, and she was the sister of the first Rex Regis, and she married the first Maitre of the Collegium. And Vaelora was an ancestor of Malyna.”

  “You’re telling stories.”

  “Ask Malyna, if you don’
t believe me. She only hinted that I should look into an ancestor of hers named Vaelora.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Reading the chateau archives can tell you all sorts of interesting facts. Sometimes, they’re even useful.”

  “I will ask Malyna.” Aloryana frowned. “Useful for what else?”

  “Preparing for the people I’ll meet at the ball and elsewhere, especially some of the High Holders.”

  “What difference would that make? Father never lets you meet with any of the High Council or the Factors’ Council.”

  “I’ve met with some of them.” Just not in their formal meetings. “And I have met a number of times with Factor Elthyrd.”

  “Not any on the High Council, except Uncle Ryel, and he doesn’t count. You know Mother—”

  “I know,” Charyn replied quickly, forestalling what his much younger sister would surely say. He’d heard more than enough from their mother about the dangers of exaggerating, especially in uneasy times, and particularly for him as the heir. He paused for just a moment. “I have met more than a few factors. Factor Walltyl—”

  “That’s because you had him build that racing chase.”

  “… Factor Roblen…”

  “Those fine woolen jackets.”

  “Factor Elthyrd…”

  “The wood for the chase,” countered Aloryana.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Charyn wasn’t about to mention exactly how he had gotten Elthyrd to sponsor his membership to the exchange. “I’ve met them, and I’ve dealt with them. That means more to them than just standing around at a ball and offering pleasantries.” Not that Charyn hadn’t learned a great deal at balls, but learning and gaining trust weren’t the same things. He stepped back toward the table. “Do you want to play another round?”

  “We might as well. It’s more than a glass until dinner. Malyna is still talking with Mother. I’d rather play with you than with Bhayrn. He still tries to palm the plaques.”

  Charyn sat down opposite Aloryana. “That’s stupid. When you have golds, you don’t have to cheat. All you can do is make people distrust you.” He pointed to the deck. “It’s your turn to deal first.”

  Slightly more than a glass later, Charyn and Aloryana joined Bhayrn, their mother, and Malyna in the salon that adjoined the family dining room. Chelia sat in the smaller of the two armchairs. The larger one, vacant, was always reserved for their father. Malyna sat in one of the straight-backed chairs.

  “The snow’s stopped,” announced Bhayrn.

  “For now,” said Charyn mildly. “The clouds are still low. It might snow more tonight.”

  “Let us hope not.” Chelia looked to Aloryana. “I just read your copybook.”

  Charyn could see his sister stiffen, but she merely nodded and waited.

  “Your writing and grammar are excellent … when your words can be deciphered. Your hand leaves a great deal to be desired. You will rewrite today’s assignment. Without any assistance from Malyna. I expect it on my desk by seventh glass tomorrow morning.” Chelia turned to Bhayrn.

  Charyn’s brother’s smile vanished.

  “Your calculations were erroneous in several places. Some of that was doubtless due to your failure to keep your figures neat. When you cannot even read your own numbers, how can you expect to calculate accurately?”

  “Others will be doing—”

  “Nonsense! You’re the younger son. If you’re fortunate, you’ll get a High Holding that you will have to run, and if you can’t do calculations accurately, your children will be lucky to live as well as the poorest of factors. You’re far too old to be making the mistakes you are.”

  Charyn was just glad he hadn’t had to do lessons for more than five years, but then learning under the various ministers had been tedious more often than not.

  At that moment, Lorien stepped into the salon. “Good evening, everyone. Shall we dine?”

  All the others rose, and Aloryana led the way into the dining room, followed by Bhayrn. Charyn and Malyna entered just in front of Lorien and took their places across the table from each other, waiting for Lorien to seat himself before they sat.

  Chelia looked to Malyna. “You should say the gratitude.”

  The young woman nodded, then said, “For the grace from the Nameless, for the bounty of the earth, for justice, and for all manifold and great mercies, we offer our thanks and gratitude, both now and ever more, in the spirit of that which cannot be named or imaged.”

  Charyn managed not to show any surprise at a gratitude that barely mentioned the Nameless.

  Only after Malyna had finished did the servers appear with the pitchers of red or white wine. Then came the platters of doves poached in brandy and then roasted, accompanied by laced potatoes, and sliced and baked autumn squash, with dark bread.

  When the servers retired, Lorien addressed the first dove breast on his plate—as did Charyn, knowing that the time to eat was before his father began to ask questions.

  “One good thing about the storm,” finally mumbled Lorien. “I didn’t have to meet with the Maitre or High Holder Ryel.”

  Charyn could see his father’s right hand trembling as the older man set the knife on the side of the wide platter with a faint clank. Charyn could also see that his mother noticed as well, especially by the quick glance she shot his way.

  “Is the Council still complaining about your equalizing the tariffs on exchanges of goods?” asked Chelia.

  “What else is new? I compromised on phasing in the tariff on exchanges right after that abortive revolt because times were bad, and I didn’t want more rebellious High Holders. I told them that the tariffs would be equal by this coming year. They agreed. Each year the tariff on exchanges went up by one part in five. Now that many had bad crops this past year…” The rex shook his head and then brushed a limp lock of gray hair away from his forehead with the back of his left hand. Then he cleared his throat. “It’s just another way for those arrogant High Holders to avoid tariffs.”

  Malyna’s pleasant expression did not change, and she took the smallest sip of the white wine in her goblet. Aloryana offered Charyn a knowing look.

  Charyn almost laughed. His sister already had known what their father would say.

  “Factors have to pay tariffs on what they sell.” Lorien coughed several times. “These holders who have become factors as well in their desire for more golds wanted to avoid that by not selling, but by exchanging what they produce or grow with what other High Holders produce or grow. They claimed that the Codex only required tariffs on actual sales. That was one of the reasons for the revolt, because Maitre Alastar had suggested that the High Holders were cheating me on their tariffs. And those bastards were. Every one of them.” He paused and looked to Malyna. “Your father is not one of them. I wish more were like him.”

  “So do I, sir,” replied Malyna. “He has to tread carefully.”

  “Would to the Nameless he didn’t,” added Lorien. “The rest of them aren’t worth the blades to slaughter them.”

  Bhayrn rolled his eyes, not surprisingly, since he, Charyn, and Aloryana had heard similar words all too often.

  “That was why you changed the Codex after the revolt,” Charyn said quietly, words he’d used more than a few times before.

  “I did indeed.”

  “As you should have,” added Chelia warmly.

  “Thank you, my dear.”

  “What will you do?” asked Aloryana.

  “The change is already in the Codex. I’m not going to change it again. They knew what was coming. High Holder Ryel will try to persuade me…”

  Charyn also didn’t miss the sharp glance his mother bestowed on his father.

  “… and I can’t afford to let him.”

  “What about the Collegium?” asked Chelia.

  “The Maitre’s always supported you, hasn’t he?” Aloryana added almost simultaneously.

  “As long … as I do what he thinks is right.”

  Che
lia looked at her husband, but did not speak.

  “Do you disagree with him that much, sir?” asked Malyna.

  “We’re not that different in what we think is best,” replied Lorien. “We get there different ways.”

  Charyn kept his amusement to himself. Those words were about as much as his father would admit that he sometimes overreacted before listening to Chelia—or the Maitre.

  “Being rex isn’t what you think it is, Aloryana.” Lorien’s voice was resigned, almost dull. “It’s not like in the old days, in the time of the first Rex Regis. Back then, a rex had power, real power. He had almost a hundred thousand soldiers, and even the imagers jumped to do his will. Back then the factors collected tariffs for the rex, and no one questioned what the tariffs were. Now…” Lorien shook his head.

  “Your father hasn’t mentioned that most of those who were rex in those days died young and violently. Rex Regis was the exception.” Chelia’s voice was pleasant. “Even in the time of your grandfather, there was a great deal of violence. You might recall that your father and I were almost burned alive in the Anomen D’Rex. The Maitre and his imagers saved us.”

  “Had to,” mumbled Lorien. “Didn’t have much choice.”

  Chelia glanced at her husband once more.

  “I’ll give him credit for knowing that, and for seeing what that bastard Chesyrk was up to.” Lorien’s words were not quite grudging as he went on. “Later on, he did put his own life at risk in putting down the revolt, and he got the High Holders back in line.”

  “All of you know that,” said Chelia brightly, “and it’s a gloomy day to talk about such matters.”

  “Are you going to cancel the ball?” asked Bhayrn hopefully.

  Aloryana turned and offered a mock glare, almost as if it were expected, Charyn thought.

  “Don’t you think about anything else?” muttered Bhayrn.

  “Just because you don’t want to dance with the wives and daughters of High Holders isn’t any reason to penalize the rest of us,” said Charyn, his voice light. “And Malyna’s only going to have this one chance to attend, most likely.”

  “There’s no reason to cancel it,” declared Lorien stoutly. “Why should I? Those who want to come can find a way. If they don’t care enough or don’t want to brave the weather, so much the better. Nothing worse than a fair-weather factor or High Holder.”