“I don’t know that. Your father seldom revealed names or specifics. I wouldn’t be surprised, though.”
“What about Alucar?”
“The most honest of the three ministers. He’s the only one I’d trust out of my sight … or yours.”
“And Aevidyr?”
“He toadies up to everyone who has golds or power, and then gets offended if any idea of his is in the least criticized. That’s what your father said.”
“Why did he keep them?”
“He said he doubted he could find better.”
Charyn took a sip of the tea that had appeared before him without his really noticing it. He’d never heard any of this before.
As if she’d read his thoughts, Chelia added, “There was no point in telling you. Your father didn’t want to, and he would have gotten furious if I had, and nothing would have changed.”
“Does Bhayrn know what you’ve said?”
“No. He’s more like your father.”
He even sleeps late like Father. Charyn wasn’t quite sure from where that vagrant thought had come. “Did he ever say much about Marshal Vaelln?”
“He thought he was honest, bright but not too bright, and loyal to the rex. He also listened to his better officers.”
“What about Norstan?”
“I understand you know him well enough to deal with him.”
Charyn didn’t ask how she knew. His mother often had her ways. Instead, he said, “If I take the regial quarters…”
“I’ll take the large guest suite. It has a lovely sitting room and good south light.”
Charyn nodded.
“What do you intend to do about Palenya?”
“I’ve talked to her. She says she’ll leave before … well … before allowing me to sleep with her if … there’s anyone else.”
“Idealistic, but not totally practical.”
“I owe her—and you for allowing her to teach me—a great deal. I wouldn’t feel right just throwing her out. I’d thought of buying her a dwelling suitable for her to teach and giving her a stipend of some sort.”
“That would be fair. It might be best if the dwelling were not in L’Excelsis. People might be less likely to try to use her to get to you.”
“Use her?” Charyn paused. “I suppose they would. Some people would use anyone if it furthered their interests a single digit.” He stopped as the serving girl appeared with his breakfast—cheesed eggs with ham strips and a small loaf of dark bread. All steamed in the slightly chill air of the breakfast room. He took several bites of the eggs, cut the ham into smaller bits, then ate them. He had some of the bread with the cherry conserve before he spoke again. “Where would you suggest?”
“When I talked with her about becoming the chateau musician she mentioned that she’d always liked the old town of Nordeau.”
“Do you know anyone there?”
“I still have a few acquaintances. Would you like for me to look into a suitable dwelling there … Elaerya might even know if there is a possibility for a talented musician and clavecinist.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’m in no hurry, none at all, but sometimes these matters cannot be arranged at the last moment.”
Chelia nodded. “I’ve always thought that preparation leads to good fortune. In all matters.”
“Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure.”
Charyn understood. He wasn’t totally happy, but he did understand, although he wasn’t about to part with Palenya until he’d gotten to the bottom of the threats against him and ended that danger. Assuming you can. He smiled wryly to himself. If he couldn’t, Palenya wouldn’t be a problem at all. Not for him, anyway.
He finished his breakfast quickly, stopped by Norstan’s study, and discovered, not totally to his surprise, that there were no requests for meetings.
“Are you most certain, Norstan?”
“Yes, sir.” The seneschal didn’t have the slightest hesitation, nor did he flinch from Charyn’s hard glance.
Either Norstan was a better liar than Charyn thought, or there were no requests. He supposed the latter was possible, given how cold and windy it was, and that scattered snowflakes continued to fall intermittently.
The first thing he did upon reaching his study, after greeting Howal, was to read the copy of Veritum that lay waiting on his desk. All the article about the meeting said of interest was:
… both the High Council and the Factors’ Council of Solidar met with Rex Charyn on Meredi. Several of the factors said that the meeting was helpful, but refused to say more. None would discuss whether the rex indicated if tariffs would be raised …
Charyn could see why Elthyrd might be discreet, but the others? Or was it that they wanted any increase in tariffs to be laid at Charyn’s feet? That was more likely than discretion, far more likely.
Charyn had only set down the newssheet when Sanafryt arrived, carrying several papers.
The Justice Minister handed them to Charyn. “Here is the letter to Governor Warheon with the explanation of the change in Codex Legis and how it affects the factor’s petition that he denied. Whatever you approve, I’ll use the same explanation language transmitting the change in the law to the other regional governors.”
Charyn motioned Sanafryt to the chairs in front of his desk, then sat down and began to read. When he finished, he smiled pleasantly. “This is quite good, Sanafryt. You always write well, but this expresses what I had in mind quite accurately. I’ll sign it, and Howal will make copies. I’ll have him dispatch the letter and the sheet with the Codex changes to the governor. He’ll make sure you get a copy for your records.”
For an instant, Sanafryt looked surprised. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m glad you found my words to your liking.”
Why had he been surprised? Because Father was always having things written and rewritten? Or for some other reason? “I’m not much for rewriting if the words are clear and the point made accurately. You did both.”
Sanafryt nodded in acknowledgment, almost as if he didn’t know what to say.
Charyn stood. “It shouldn’t be that long before you have copies.”
The older man stood, inclined his head, and then left the study.
Howal moved toward the desk. “I can start on those now.”
“Thank you.” He thought about asking Howal his reaction to Sanafryt’s surprise, then decided against it. He couldn’t keep asking others what they thought about reactions, not in so many words … and not immediately after they left.
Less than a quint later, Maertyl rapped on the study door. “Two messages for you, sir. One is being delivered by an imager courier.”
“Have the courier bring them both in.” He paused. “Where did the other come from?”
“Public courier, sir. Left with the entry guards.”
Charyn didn’t like the sound of that.
Apparently, neither did Howal, who moved toward the desk and said in a low voice, “Let me take that one first.”
Charyn nodded as the study door opened and the young man in imager grays entered.
“A message from Maitre Alastar, sir.” He extended one envelope.
Charyn took it. “If you’d give the other to Howal, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is an immediate reply requested?”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you, and convey my respects and thanks to the Maitre.”
Once the imager courier had left and the study door was closed, Charyn turned to Howal.
“It’s light, and there’s no powder in the envelope. It’s not oily, either, and the paper’s not discolored.”
“I’ll open it carefully.” Charyn took the envelope. The name on the outside was simply “Rex Charyn.” It had been written in standard merchant hand, and that alone suggested to Charyn that the words inside were likely to be yet another threat. He slit the envelope carefully, holding it well away from himself and in a fashion so that he did not b
reak the flat black wax seal. Then he put the envelope on the desk and used his knife to ease the single sheet, folded in half, out of the envelope. The paper also appeared untainted, but he still used the knife to unfold the sheet.
The words were along the lines he expected … and in standard merchant hand.
You were warned, again, yesterday. Promising to build a few more ships won’t stop the losses suffered by factors. Higher tariffs will be wasted on your excesses, not on real improvements for Solidar.
If you don’t stop the Jariolan piracy and seizures, you won’t be rex much longer. Especially if you increase tariffs.
Charyn set down the missive on the desk. The way it was written didn’t give a clue as to whether the writer knew about what had happened in the councils’ meeting. The promises to build more ships had been public for weeks. He stepped aside so that Howal could read the message as well, then waited before asking, “What do you think?”
“They aren’t too happy with what you’re doing, and they don’t want higher tariffs.”
“I doubt most of the factors and few of the High Holders are happy with what I’m doing. I’d like to see them do better.” He managed not to take a deep breath as he opened the imager envelope. The letter was from the Maitre.
Rex Charyn—
I have made inquiries about Murranyt D’Patrol, the former Commander of the Civic Patrol of L’Excelsis. He asked for and received a stipend for his years of service to the Patrol. The effective date was 18 Fevier 404 A.L. He remained in his own private dwelling in the east part of L’Excelsis until Ianus of 406 A.L., when the dwelling was sold to the current occupants by the Banque D’Aluse, on account of debts owed. According to neighbors, Murranyt said he was suffering from a lung flux caused by the cold weather in L’Excelsis and that he was moving to Kephria to live with his sister. None of his few former acquaintances or colleagues have seen him since early Fevier of 406 A.L.
As soon as he saw the date of Murranyt’s disappearance, Charyn felt a tightness in his guts. He handed the sheet to Howal. “I’m going to my rooms for a moment. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
As he left the study, he wanted to shake his head. He should have asked Palenya about Churwyl earlier. She was one of the few who’d likely be honest with him, and she was pleasant enough to the chateau staff that they talked to her.
He walked quickly to his rooms, and then to his bedchamber. There he eased his best pistol from its case in the second drawer of his armoire and slipped it inside his jacket pocket. Then he walked calmly back to the study, taking care to close the door gently, but firmly. He would have preferred to have slammed it.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“I think we need to find Guard Captain Churwyl and have a little talk with him. And I think you had best remain close to me.”
“I would agree, sir.”
Before leaving the study, Charyn slipped both messages into the desk drawer. He said nothing as they walked down the north corridor, but as they started down the grand staircase, Charyn thought he saw a guard hurry toward the rear entry out to the courtyard. Or was it Churwyl? He couldn’t tell.
When they reached the duty desk, the older guard seated there bolted upright. “Your Grace, sir.”
“I’m looking for Guard Captain Churwyl.”
“You just missed him, Your Grace. He went to the armory to check on something. He was out there earlier.”
“What was he doing there?”
“He didn’t say. It was right after the imager courier came with that urgent message for you, sir. Captain Churwyl wanted to deliver it himself, but the imager insisted. You don’t argue with imagers. He hurried off right after that. I can send someone for him.”
“We’ll find him.”
The duty guard murmured something under his breath as Charyn and Howal left, but Charyn couldn’t make out the words.
“Sir…” offered Howal.
“At this point, Howal, you, my mother, Palenya, and Hassala are about the only senior members of the entire staff I can trust. Oh, and Minister Alucar. Exactly who else can I trust to deal with Churwyl besides the two of us? And if we dither, he’s likely to be gone.”
The two rushed by the guard at the rear entry and down the stone steps to the paved courtyard. Charyn slowed down because there were patches of ice, and he didn’t want to slip and fall, especially not at the moment.
The armory door was closed, but not locked. Howal moved forward and opened it, glancing around. “Stay behind me, sir.”
Charyn didn’t argue, but followed the imager.
Less than three yards away, Churwyl stood beside a keg. He turned toward Charyn, smiling. “You didn’t have to come out here, sir. My men could have let me know you wanted to see me.” Churwyl’s breath steamed in the cold air.
“I’m sure they could.” Charyn stepped past Howal and closer to the guard captain. Not too close. He could sense Howal easing up behind him. “It’s better this way.”
“What did you have in mind, Your Grace?”
“I was curious to know why you betrayed my father.” Charyn thrust his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket.
“How could you even think that? I served him for years,” protested Churwyl.
“It might have something to do with the fact that Commander Murranyt was already dead at the time you said you talked to him.” Charyn shrugged. “Or that you were the one who poisoned the second traitorous guard. Had you expected him to be killed before he could be questioned? Or would you have killed them both if they’d tried to escape.” That was more guess than verified knowledge. “There’s also the fact that you had the bodies of the traitorous guards burned as soon as possible.”
“You seem convinced that I had something to do with all these deaths.” Churwyl was fiddling with something small in his hands, but in the dimness of the armory, Charyn couldn’t make out what it was, only that it was too small to be a knife or pistol.
“The only question is whether you did it because you felt you were slighted in some fashion or because someone paid you an enormous sum to make the risk worthwhile.”
“You’re accusing me? You … who’ve done nothing worthwhile in your life?”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about who was behind my father’s murder. You were behind the men who carried it out. The question is merely whether you did so of your own volition, or whether someone else made it worth your while. Given your lack of imagination, I doubt you could have planned it and carried it out on your own.”
“My lack of imagination? You don’t have enough imagination to see how the women around you have played you like a clavecin, let alone rule as even a second-rate rex. Not even a third-rate rex.”
Charyn realized that Churwyl was playing for time, and that meant trouble. His finger stayed on the trigger of the pistol.
“Why didn’t I betray him earlier is a better question. He was selfish and greedy—” Abruptly, Churwyl lunged at Charyn, something in his right hand glinting.
Charyn fired the pistol through the jacket. Churwyl staggered, tried to move toward Charyn, when Charyn fired the second shot into the other side of the guard captain’s chest.
“Never thought…” A knife clattered to the stones.
“Who paid you off?” Charyn demanded. Who didn’t is a better question.
“I … never knew … too many golds … to refuse … won’t do you … good…” Churwyl fumbled with the small object in his left hand, and a flame flared from his fingers before he leaned back and dropped it on the top of the barrel. Then he shuddered. His legs gave out, and he dropped to the stone floor.
Flame flared from the barrel.
Then everything went black.
41
A cold darkness swathed Charyn, a darkness pierced by flames that somehow seared him, yet did not, while the cold crept up from toes and feet he could feel, but somehow not move, no matter how hard he tried. Nor could he move his fingers or his hands, or even turn his
head.
Was there a voice somewhere, someone calling him?
He realized that he was flat on his back, lying on something very, very, hard … and that his entire body ached. His eyes were blurry, but he could make out a face, someone speaking.
“Charyn…”
The voice was definitely familiar
“Can you move your fingers?” That voice wasn’t in the slightest familiar.
Charyn tried, and this time his fingers did move. “Yes.”
“Your hands and toes?”
Charyn nodded. As his vision cleared, he saw a man in a guard uniform half-kneeling beside him. It took him several moments before he realized the guard was one of the two imagers who had been helping guard the chateau, but he couldn’t recall his name. Then he saw his mother standing beside the guard, and her face was drawn. “I … think … I’m all right … except … an awful lot … is sore…”
“Cross your arms,” said the imager guard.
Charyn did so.
“Try to bring your knees up. Slowly.”
He could do that as well.
“Let me help you sit up. If anything gives you a sharp pain, tell me immediately.”
Charyn could actually sit up without difficulty, although he was very conscious that quite a number of assorted muscles were sore. He could see that he was still in the armory … and that it didn’t look all that different. But then, the walls were solid stone. “How’s Howal?”
“I’m in better shape that you are. You were in front of me. Even with shields, you took more of the blast.”
Charyn could see Howal standing on the far side of his mother. He could also see a blanket lying across a body. “Is that Churwyl under the blanket?”
“What’s left of him,” said the imager guard.
Charyn got up on his knees and then slowly stood. He looked at Howal, who appeared absolutely drained, his face pale.
“You look ready to drop.”
“You both need something to eat, Howal especially,” said the imager guard. “Holding those shields took everything he had.”
“I wasn’t planning on holding back an explosion, Dylert.”
“You can explain later,” said Chelia firmly. “The family breakfast room. You, too, Dylert. Or should it be Maitre Dylert?”
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