Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I did that last night. He was deducting a copper a week from each guard’s pay, calling it an equipment maintenance fee. He also had two guards on the payroll who never existed. All in all, that amounted to more than four golds a month.”

  “That doesn’t count whatever he collected from the guards who paid him to get their positions.”

  “No, sir. It also doesn’t include whatever he was paid to kill your father and you. Or if someone else paid him for things.”

  “What I don’t understand,” mused Charyn, “was how Alucar didn’t catch this. I don’t think I’ll summon him to come in on a Samedi, but I’d appreciate your not talking about it until after I talk to him on Lundi, not that you likely would.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Charyn walked to the window, where he eased back the hangings and looked out. Another gray winter day. While there was a light dusting of snow everywhere, the flakes had stopped falling before Charyn had gotten up, and the high clouds suggested that much more was unlikely.

  As he let the hangings fall back, he couldn’t help thinking about the way his uncle had masterminded events, from almost before Charyn himself had been born, so that even those that knew he’d done what he’d done could find no proof, or not enough to convince those who needed to be convinced. How do you find proof when there is none? When someone has been clever enough to leave none?

  Charyn shook his head. It wasn’t as though he could charge his uncle with his crimes. Not without proof. If he could even connect Ryel with the threatening notes … He frowned, then nodded. Perhaps … just perhaps. He’d have to think that through.

  He turned to Howal. “Do all of Norstan’s ledger pages seem to have the same kinds of mistakes?”

  “So far, sir. I’ve been through something like thirty pages.”

  “That’s enough for Alucar, then.” He paused. “Who handles the accounts at the Collegium?”

  “Maitre Thelia. She’s done it for years. Her mother is an important factor.”

  “What happens if someone does something wrong at the Collegium?”

  “It depends. If it’s minor, the Maitre handles it. If it’s really serious, there’s a hearing in front of three senior maitres picked by the Maitre.”

  “Who are the senior maitres?” Charyn recalled Alastar mentioning senior maitres, but not the details.

  “You have to be at least a Maitre D’Structure to be a senior maitre. Then comes Maitre D’Esprit, and then Maitre D’Image.”

  Alastar hadn’t mentioned the higher ranks. Of that, Charyn was sure. “And Maitre Alastar and Maitre Alyna are both Maitres D’IImage.”

  “Both he and Maitre Alyna are the only Maitres D’Image. They say it’s the only time there have been two maitres that strong since the beginning of the Collegium. Most maitres of the Collegium have been Maitres D’Esprit. Maitre Arion is the only Maitre D’Esprit right now. He’s in charge of the Westisle Collegium.”

  “Does anyone advise the Maitre? Formally, that is?” Charyn had no doubt that Maitre Alyna advised Alastar, whether he wanted advice or not.

  “The senior maitres do. That’s why they meet every Meredi. Maitres D’Aspect aren’t allowed in their meetings.”

  “So he has almost a council of senior imagers?”

  “They don’t call it that.”

  Charyn nodded.

  “Why did you want to know, sir?”

  “Because I know too little about something as important and powerful as the Collegium.” That wasn’t the only reason. He hadn’t really understood that the head of the Collegium in Westisle was also a powerful imager. He’d almost forgotten that there were imagers there. “Are there imagers elsewhere? Besides the few in Estisle?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s a small branch in Mont D’Glace where imagers who have lost their abilities because of their wrongdoing live.”

  “Mont D’Glace is sort of a prison, then?”

  “More like a village of imagers who made bad choices, I hear, sir.”

  A prison by any other name.

  “Howal … I have a question. Can you image paper? Good paper?”

  The imager frowned quizzically. “Paper? Yes, sir. That’s something most imagers learn to do early. All the paper used at the Collegium is imaged there.” He offered an amused smile. “We can match the finest papers or parchment. It saves the Collegium. We use a lot of paper, I found out. Why, might I ask?”

  “Your knowledge of paper might be helpful in uncovering who was behind my father’s assassination. I don’t know if your talents will be necessary, but I thought I’d ask.” Charyn smiled pleasantly. “I think we should take a very careful tour of the chateau, chamber by chamber. I’d like you to keep your eyes open and to tell me if you see anything that strikes you as strange.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charyn had no real idea why he’d come up with the idea, but it couldn’t hurt, and it just might lead to something. If it didn’t, then that meant there were some things he didn’t have to worry about. You hope.

  44

  Lundi morning found Charyn in his study, pacing back and forth, waiting for Sanafryt and Alucar to arrive at the chateau. The clouds that had covered the sky on Samedi and Solayi had passed, but an intense chill had descended upon L’Excelsis, a chill for which the feeble white light of the winter sun was no match.

  Unsurprisingly to Charyn, Alucar was the first to arrive, half a quint past the glass.

  “You wished to see me, Your Grace?”

  “I did. As a result of the investigations I made after the unfortunate incident with Guard Captain Churwyl, I discovered that the fashion in which the business of the Chateau D’Rex was being conducted was far worse than I had thought.” Charyn smiled coolly. “And I had not thought well of it before. In particular, the finances of the stables and the chateau itself have been haphazard and worse. Stablemaster Keithell has been locked up since Samedi. Churwyl, of course, is dead, and what happens to Norstan has not been determined. My question to you is whether you knew of this, and, if so, why you never brought it to my father’s attention or to mine?”

  “I will plead guilty to not bringing it to your immediate attention, Your Grace. I felt you had more pressing matters to deal with. As for your father, I brought the matter to his attention time and time again.”

  “Is there any proof of this?”

  “There is indeed. If you wish you can accompany me back to my study where I can show you the file chest with all the documentation.”

  “That might be best. If it is as you say, and given your demeanor, I suspect it is, then everyone will know the truth.”

  Howal moved immediately to accompany Charyn, and the three made their way to the study of the Finance Minister.

  Alucar walked immediately to the top file box in the second stack of boxes, unlocked it, and stepped back, moving to stand beside his desk. “Everything in the box deals with Norstan’s accounts.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn moved forward and began to read. The first sheet was a directive from his father addressed to Alucar. The substance was simple and direct:

  … I fully realize that you must continue to bring this matter up. Norstan’s accounting is not up to your standards. There is no evidence that he is pocketing coins or extorting coins from the staff. He does what I wish. I do not intend to replace or reprimand him, and I regard this matter as closed unless you have absolute evidence of wrongdoing beyond carelessness …

  Charyn blinked, then looked at the signature and seal. Both were his father’s. He handed it to Howal, who read it as well.

  Howal’s eyes widened, but he handed the single sheet back to Charyn without speaking.

  Next, Charyn read the previous paper, one from Alucar stating that, without auditing Norstan’s records and those who reported to him, there was no way to tell if others were defrauding the rex or pocketing coins. For almost a glass, he stood there and read back through the papers. Finally, he closed the file box. “I can see you were in a dif
ficult position.”

  “I did what I could, Your Grace. As you can see, your father was aware of the problem, but for his own reasons chose not to act on it. I heard rumors about the stablemaster, but no one would say anything to me, and without going through all of Norstan’s records…”

  “Why didn’t you do anything about Keithell?”

  “I did. Your father said Keithell had served him faithfully, and that I was not to slander a loyal servant. Without proof, I saw no point in proceeding. Norstan submitted bills of accounting that were inaccurate and poorly rendered. I was not allowed to examine his ledgers. Your father did so twice, at my insistence. The second time he was most unhappy. That was when he wrote that letter, also at my insistence.” The Finance Minister offered a wryly bitter smile. “I feared that someday I would be charged with misfeasance on that account. Your father did not speak to me for two weeks.”

  Charyn could see how that might have been. “We will be talking to Norstan, and from here on, once we make the rules clear to all, you will have access to all account ledgers and records. You may wish to have a clerk review all those.” Charyn was sure Alucar would prefer that, and his words were to give the minister that choice.

  Alucar inclined his head. “Your Grace.”

  “My apologies for my suspicions, but I trust you understand that I have reason to be suspicious after the events of the last month.”

  “I do indeed, Your Grace. We will all be most grateful when you resolve these matters.”

  Charyn nodded. At least he said “when” and not “if.” He did not say anything more until he and Howal returned to the study. Once there, he asked Howal, “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  “I would keep him as minister if you can.”

  “Now, it’s time to see Norstan. Have someone summon him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  While Howal talked to Sturdyn, Charyn walked to the window, eased the hangings back, and looked out. The sky remained clear, and the cold radiating off the glass of the windowpane seemed more intense than on any other day of the winter. So far.

  Norstan arrived in less than half a quint. He stood in front of the desk, looking first at Charyn and then at Howal, both of whom remained standing. “Your Grace…?”

  “We’ve been looking through your ledger, Norstan. Things are not as they should be.”

  “Your Grace, you must know that I’m not the best with figures. Your father knew that, and so does Minister Alucar. That’s no secret.”

  “I suspect that it’s as much a matter of care as ability,” Charyn said sardonically. “That is not why you are here. Not totally.”

  Norstan’s face twisted into a momentary expression of puzzlement. “You had my ledger taken…”

  “For another reason.” Charyn decided not to explain. “You never looked into Stablemaster Keithell’s accounts, did you?”

  “I know little of horses and stables.”

  Charyn had his doubts about that. “Let us just be generous and say that you chose to know nothing of horses and stables. Keithell took great advantage of that. He also abused the stable boys and accepted short measures of grain and hay in return for coins from some factors and growers. And his assistant did little but drink ale.”

  “I knew nothing of that, Your Grace.”

  “It might be more accurate to say, again, that you chose to know nothing of that.”

  “I had nothing to do with Keithell.”

  “As seneschal, you were in charge of him, and you failed in keeping him in line.”

  “Your Grace…” The seneschal was almost pleading.

  “For that reason, the new stablemaster will be required not only to keep his own ledger, separate from your account, but to submit that ledger to the Minister of Finance so that one of his clerks may keep track of what is purchased and from whom. In addition, if you wish to remain as seneschal, you will improve the accuracy of your ledgers, and your ledger and accounts will also be reviewed by the Finance Minister, as he determines necessary—under my guidance.” Charyn paused. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Whatever you wish.” The relief in Norstan’s voice was palpable.

  “Minister Alucar, or one of his clerks, will direct you as to how he wishes your ledgers kept.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “And you will dismiss the assistant stablemaster. Today. If he is not gone today…” Charyn looked hard at Norstan.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Once Norstan had left the study, Charyn turned to Howal. “We’ll have to talk to Dylert and Kaylet about setting up the ledgers the way Alucar wants them, but they’ve got enough to do at the moment. Have the letters to the Factors’ Council and the High Council all been sent and received?”

  “Yes, sir. All nine of them. We’re holding the one for High Holder Oskaryn’s replacement.”

  “We haven’t looked into his death,” mused Charyn. “He was shot, but it seems odd, because, if he was in the majority of the High Holders opposing increased tariffs, then he was on the side of whoever’s been threatening me.” Moreover, although Charyn wasn’t saying it, assuming his uncle was behind the assassination, why would Oskaryn have been killed? That didn’t make sense. Unless Oskaryn knew too much or unless Ryel arranged his death to throw suspicion away from himself.

  “Could it just have been personal, sir, with someone taking advantage of the situation to confuse matters?”

  “That’s certainly possible, but … that seems awfully convenient. I just wonder what else there is that we don’t know.”

  Less than half a glass later, Sturdyn rapped on the door. “A courier with an urgent message for you, sir.”

  Charyn nodded to Howal.

  The courier was an army ranker, understandably, since the army staffed and ran the regial courier service, who stepped into the study, his face still red from wind and chill. “Your Grace, sir, an urgent dispatch from Regional Governor Voralch.” He extended the small sealed dispatch pouch.

  Howal took it and broke the seal, inspecting the pouch as he did, before taking the sealed envelope inside and handing it to Charyn, then handing the dispatch pouch back to the courier.

  “Is an immediate reply requested?” asked Charyn.

  “No, sir.”

  “You may go … but stop by the kitchen to get something warm before you leave.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Charyn waited until the study door closed before slitting the envelope and taking out the two sheets of paper. He began to read.

  Your Grace—

  It distresses me to report that the former palace of the Lords of Telaryn, which has served as the residence and workplace of the regional governor, was consumed in a fire the night of Meredi, 18 Janus 409 A.L. The fire was deliberately set, using a mixture of explosives and volatile oils. Three guards were killed. That enabled the arsonists to infiltrate the palace grounds and set the explosives and oils. Four servants were killed in the blaze, and a number of others were injured.

  The only evidence found was the attached message. It was found in a bag knifed to the seat in the surviving coach and found on Jeudi morning.

  At present, I am quartered in the summer villa of High Holder Garleuch. Needless to say, this is a less than tenable situation, and I await your instructions on how to proceed in regard to obtaining a more permanent governor’s residence.

  The seal and signature were presumably those of Voralch.

  Charyn studied the short message, once more written in standard merchant hand. Like the others, it was short.

  Rex Charyn—

  We can strike anywhere. If meaningful action to stop Jariolan piracy without imposing more tariffs is not forthcoming, before long you will face the same fate as your predecessor.

  If the destruction of the ancient palace had been the work of Ryel, the warning was certainly cleverly worded to throw suspicion elsewhere. Except that the decision on the tariffs was not made until with
in a few glasses of the time when the palace burned, and Solis was a four-day ride by the fastest of couriers. But then, Ryel had to have known that, in the end, Charyn would have to raise tariffs. Even if Charyn hadn’t decided that, the term “meaningful action” was so vague that anything Charyn did, or anything he did that Solidar could afford, could be declared as too little and too late to be “meaningful.”

  Wordlessly, he handed both sheets to Howal, then waited for the imager to read them.

  Also without a word, Howal looked up after he finished.

  “What do you think about the paper the threat was written on?”

  Howal held the sheet up to the light of the nearest wall lamp. After several moments, he said, “The finish, the sizing, if you will, on the paper used for the threat is the kind used by factors. If you run your fingers over the paper used by the regional governor, I’d wager that it feels smoother.”

  “Could you image either kind of paper so that the writer could not tell the difference?”

  “It might take a glass or so to get it right, but I could. Maitre Alastar likely could in a fraction of a quint.”

  “What about the ink?”

  “Oh … that’s a common carbon black ink with a touch of iron gall. You can find that in any factor’s study. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some here in the chateau. It’d be easy to image.”

  “And anyone with much knowledge would say that the paper and ink likely came from a factor or merchant?”

  “Be unlikely to come from a High Holder, and a crafter wouldn’t have much use for sized paper and ink.”

  “Would you image a copy of the threat note, one as perfect as possible? I’d like a copy, but I’d rather not have anyone else here at the chateau see it.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “After you do that, we need to meet with Alucar and let him know about the burning of the old palace. Then we’ll discuss the best way to improve the ledgers.” Charyn knew that would take a while.

  After that, he’d have to tell Aevidyr about Governor Voralch’s veiled demand for a suitable dwelling, another drain on the treasury’s already thin resources.