Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Are we paying the chateau guards enough?” asked Charyn.

  “The wages for a guard are higher than for an army ranker,” replied Dylert. “They also get fed a meal a day, and their uniforms, and the single men get bunks, as well as breakfast in addition to the other meal. That’s why people would pay Churwyl to get their sons placed in the Chateau Guard.”

  “If pay isn’t the problem…”

  “The problem isn’t the base pay. It’s that there’s no real chance for advancement and increased pay. There were only four senior guards who made more than the basic pay.”

  “So loyalty and greater ability don’t get rewarded?”

  “Not exactly. Churwyl apparently gave ‘bonuses’ to guards he favored.”

  “I suppose those extra silvers came out of what he got from the maintenance fees and the wages of the two nonexistent guards?”

  “It would appear that way. There weren’t any ranks. No first-level guards, second-level guards. Guards didn’t get pay increases for serving more years, either.”

  “So the longer a guard served, the more likely he was to feel unappreciated. Would you suggest restructuring the Chateau Guard more along the lines of the army?”

  “Not exactly. More like a cross between the imagers and the army. I’m working out something for your approval. It should be ready tomorrow.”

  “I’d like to see what you come up with.” Charyn hoped Dylert’s plan wouldn’t raise the pay costs too much, but it seemed like everything was turning out to cost more than he’d thought or planned. On the other hand, the old system had clearly failed. “One other matter. I’d like to know everyone who comes to the chateau, even if they meet with someone else besides me. There was supposed to be a logbook, but I suspect it may not have been all that accurate.”

  “The guards say there was, but there’s no sign of it. I’m setting up a new one.”

  Charyn nodded. Churwyl again? Or someone else? Another thing he doubted he’d ever discover.

  Once Dylert had left the study, Howal stood abruptly. “I’ll be back in a few moments. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m not going any place.” Charyn smiled wryly, as he picked up the copy of Veritum that was waiting for him on the corner of the desk. He immediately noticed the story entitled, “Mysterious Explosion at Chateau D’Rex,” and began to read it, noting particular words.

  … recently learned that Guard Commander Churwyl perished in an explosion within the Chateau armory last Vendrei. Word also indicates that Rex Charyn was injured slightly in the explosion, as was another functionary …

  … no memorial services were conducted … appears that Churwyl may have been pocketing regial golds … no statements from the rex or the Chateau seneschal …

  Charyn nodded. It could have been worse. He set aside the newssheet and turned his attention to Aevidyr’s revised letter to Regional Governor Voralch. After reading about three lines, he sighed and shook his head. For the Nameless’s sake, this reads like Voralch is the rex, and I’m the regional governor. He was about to call Howal over, before he remembered that Howal had left, probably to answer a call of nature, if the fidgeting Charyn had seen had been any indication.

  At that moment, Sturdyn called out, “Guard Captain Dylert wants to see me, sir. Yarselt and Cauthyrn are replacing me while I’m gone.”

  “That’s fine,” answered Charyn, returning his attention to the letter, murmuring the words Aevidyr had written.

  … understand the difficult position in which the deficiencies of the regial treasury have placed you … rest assured that I will endeavor to rectify the situation …

  Charyn snorted and lowered the letter just in time to see Cauthyrn open the door and walk into the study, followed by Yarselt. Both carried unsheathed sabres.

  Without hesitation Charyn bolted to his feet and drew the pistol. Two armed guards entering the study when Howal wasn’t there meant trouble. Yarselt took two steps toward the desk and paused, gesturing for Cauthyrn to move to the side.

  Cauthyrn moved more toward the conference table, widening the distance between himself and Yarselt.

  “Move closer!” snapped Yarselt. “He can’t hit anything.”

  Charyn fired.

  The shot took Yarselt in the middle of the chest. He staggered back, an expression of utter surprise on his face. Then his legs collapsed, and he went down in a heap, falling back and to the side.

  Cauthyrn halted.

  “You want to chance it?” asked Charyn.

  Cauthyrn stood there, waiting, almost to see what Charyn might do.

  Charyn wasn’t about to do anything until he had to, not with a single shot left in the pistol. “Who paid you off?”

  Cauthyrn grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He took a step forward.

  Charyn waited. He didn’t want the guard too close, but he also wanted him closer. “Not particularly. I just thought you might want to gloat.”

  “Everyone with golds or power wants you dead.”

  At that moment Howal rushed through the study door, and Cauthyrn froze, unable to move.

  Charyn continued to watch the open study door, in case someone else came in, but he could see that Cauthyrn was turning red, a red that darkened toward purple. Then Howal released the shields, and the guard toppled forward. From somewhere a length of rope appeared, and Charyn wondered if the imager had carried it, or imaged it into being. Regardless of where the rope had come from, in moments Howal had Cauthyrn securely tied up and lying on his back only a yard or so from the end of the conference table.

  “How much was the bonus to kill Rex Charyn?” asked Howal.

  Even lying on his back, Cauthyrn smirked. His face stiffened, as if he could not move. After several moments, his skin began to turn red … and even redder. Abruptly, the stiffness vanished, and the guard took a gasping breath.

  “How much?” asked Howal.

  Cauthyrn tightened his lips and then stiffened.

  Charyn could see that Howal was using shields to suffocate the guard.

  When Howal released the shields again, he said, “I can keep doing this until your lungs are bloody shreds, and you suffocate slowly in your own blood.”

  “You’ll … kill … me … anyway…” gasped Cauthyrn.

  “Very well,” said Howal coldly, clamping the shields back in place.

  After five more rounds of suffocation, Cauthyrn whispered, “Enough … a hundred golds.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Yarselt … said he’d split it with me.”

  “Who promised that to him?”

  “He … didn’t know … said the fellow was cloaked … gave him five golds … said he’d get the rest when the young rex was dead. Yarselt … gave me two.”

  Charyn heard boots running down the north corridor, and Howal turned immediately and stepped back from the trussed Cauthyrn.

  The first face through the door was that of Dylert, followed by Sturdyn. Dylert’s eyes immediately went from Yarselt’s corpse to the pistol in Charyn’s hand to Howal and the rope-bound guard. Dylert was breathing hard, but said, “You two managed, I see.”

  “Barely,” replied Charyn. “Howal returned just in time. I had to kill Yarselt.” Given that Charyn hadn’t dared to try just wounding Yarselt, not with a two-shot pistol, besides which he’d been truly angry, given how he had trusted Yarselt. “He’s been questioning Cauthyrn.”

  “Go ahead. I’d like to hear what else he has to say.” Dylert turned to Sturdyn. “You’re back on duty.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sturdyn stepped back, closing the study door.

  Howal looked down at Cauthyrn. “Who else is involved?”

  “No one … didn’t want … to split the golds … didn’t know who to trust…” Cauthyrn coughed up a bloody foam.

  “We need to sit him up,” said Dylert, moving over and pulling Cauthyrn up into one of the chairs at the south end of the conference table. “You used shields to suffocate him?”

  H
owal nodded. “Thought we needed to know in a hurry.”

  “Why did you take the golds?” asked Charyn.

  “Why not? You … won’t … stay rex … long … might as well … another revolt … we’d get killed … anyway…”

  “Who told you that?” pressed Charyn.

  “Churwyl…”

  “How would he know?”

  “He … knew lots of things…” Cauthyrn offered another retching cough, and blood oozed from the corners of his mouth.

  “Go on,” ordered Charyn. “What else did he know?”

  “… knew you … playing at being a factor … knew your sister … no imager … just a way to get her away from … chateau…” Another retching cough followed the words, with more blood issuing from the guard’s mouth.

  “Where did Yarselt meet the man who gave him the golds?”

  “… never … said…”

  “Did he say anything else about him?”

  “… thought he might … know who … wouldn’t say…” Abruptly, Cauthyrn slumped forward, then toppled out of the chair onto the floor.

  “Frig!” came the exclamation from Howal. “I didn’t mean to be that hard on him.”

  “He might have weak lungs,” said Dylert, turning over the crumpled figure.

  As he did, Cauthyrn shuddered once and was still.

  “He’s dead. His heart’s not beating.” Dylert rose.

  “I’m sorry,” said Howal. “I didn’t think I was that hard on him.”

  “He might have had consumption anyway,” replied Dylert. “Or a weak heart.”

  “How did you know we had trouble?” asked Charyn.

  “As soon as Sturdyn found me, I knew, because I hadn’t asked for him. We both ran back up here. How did they get in?”

  “They waited until Howal left to answer nature’s call, and then told Sturdyn you’d asked for him and deputed Yarselt and Cauthyrn to stand in. I imagine whoever it was picked Yarselt because he’d often acted as my personal guard when I left the chateau. Whoever bought them off likely found out earlier about Yarselt from Churwyl. After Sturdyn was well out of hearing, they just walked in.”

  “Someone knows a great deal about you and the chateau,” observed Dylert.

  “I’ve already realized that. The real question is how many more traitors there will be,” said Charyn, his tone somewhere between wry and bleak.

  “There are always those who will betray, given a great enough reward and the chance that they can survive to benefit from their treachery,” said Dylert. “The last few days have suggested to any in the chateau that survival after treachery is unlikely. Most would-be traitors prefer to live.”

  Unless someone has great power over them and those they love. “So my greatest worry now is from those outside the chateau?”

  “That would be the greater worry.”

  Meaning that nowhere is totally safe … as if that hadn’t just been emphasized. Another thought struck Charyn. “We need to search the bodies. Also their foot chests. I’m looking for the golds they were paid … and anything else that just might give a hint as to who paid Yarselt off.”

  Howal immediately began to search Yarselt, but he had no golds in his wallet or anywhere else.

  Dylert found two golds in slots on the inside of Cauthyrn’s belt. He studied them for a moment, then handed them to Charyn. “Those came from a private mint.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “There’s a mint mark. I don’t know what it means, but I can find out for you.”

  Charyn handed one of the golds back to Dylert. “Please do. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” He paused, then moved to the bookcase, from where he extracted the cloth bag and brought it back to Dylert. “See if these have the same mint mark.”

  Dylert looked at all ten. “All of them are the same. They’re all newly minted. It looks like that anyway.”

  There was something about that, but Charyn couldn’t recall what it was. “That’s more than coincidence. It might help to know where they were minted.”

  “I won’t have an answer until tomorrow.”

  “Keep one of the golds to find out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Howal gestured to the two dead guards. “What about them?”

  Charyn glanced toward Yarselt, on whose dead face remained an expression that might have been surprise. “Have the bodies burned. No service, no ceremony, no words.” The coldness in his own voice even surprised Charyn … except he knew where that cold anger had come from. He’d never been cold or cruel to Yarselt, and he’d even trusted his life to Yarselt. And someone had used that trust against you.

  A third of a quint later, Charyn and Howal were again alone in the study. Before he replaced the pistol in the inside pocket of his jacket, Charyn reloaded it. Then he replaced the bag with eleven golds in it in its hiding place.

  Finally, he looked at Howal and picked up the letter to Governor Voralch. “We need to rewrite this letter.”

  Almost a glass later, after two revisions of the letter, and after allowing his anger to cool, Charyn summoned Aevidyr. The Minister of Administration appeared promptly and settled into the chair across the desk from Charyn.

  “Your Grace?”

  “I have read the letter you wrote to Governor Voralch.” Charyn picked up the original version, glancing at it as he continued. “Telling him that you will endeavor to rectify the situation suggests that I am in error in not immediately opening the treasury to him to rebuild the palace whose comforts he enjoyed at my father’s pleasure and at mine. It is not an error to refuse to spend golds that the treasury does not hold.”

  “I felt that being conciliatory and sympathetic would serve you better, Your Grace.”

  “Sympathetic is one thing. Suggesting your ruler is in error is very much another. Exactly how will that be helpful when it’s apparent that more than a few factors and High Holders have doubts that I will long remain rex? I understand that arrogance just angers people unnecessarily, but your suggesting errors on my part and being excessively conciliatory will only convey the appearance of weakness.” Charyn paused. “The wording in this letter conveys weakness.”

  “I am sorry that you see it that way, Your Grace.”

  “I do. I’ve rewritten it along the lines I had in mind. Now, you can read it and suggest any changes you believe would improve it. Without suggesting error or weakness.” Charyn handed the reworded letter across to Aevidyr.

  The Administration Minister read it slowly, then said, “I would have no problems signing this.”

  “Could you make it better without conveying arrogance or weakness?”

  Charyn thought that, just for an instant, his words had surprised Aevidyr.

  “I could try, sir.”

  “Then do so.” After a moment, Charyn went on. “All this brings up another question. Just why do so many seem to think that I will not remain rex for long?”

  “I can only surmise that those who feel that way believe that all the attacks on you and your family are based on a wider discontent than may be the case.”

  “Who are those who feel that way? You certainly have contacts among the High Holders and others?”

  “I know of no one by name, but I would say that the majority of those who feel that way are located comparatively close to L’Excelsis, and, based on the burning of the old palace, possibly in Solis. You are not receiving petitions from the nearby areas of old Bovaria, but the petitions continue from elsewhere.”

  Yet another reason to suggest that your dear uncle is behind this. “Your reasoning makes an unfortunate sense, Minister Aevidyr.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “I’m not flattering you. I’m commending you. If you can finish your revisions to the letter, I’d like to see it this afternoon so that I can add my few words and we can dispatch it to Governor Voralch.”

  “I will have it on your desk shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Aevidyr left, Ch
aryn stood and walked to the window and pulled back the hangings. Despite the fact that a moderate snow had been falling since dawn, the rear courtyard and the drive down to the ring road were both clear, something Charyn hadn’t seen happen so quickly in years.

  Some matters are improving. If only he could figure out how to implement the first part of his strategy to deal with Ryel.

  47

  Even when Charyn walked into the family parlor before dinner, he was still pondering the resentment that had been created among some of the regial staff over the years. While he likely had contributed to it in some fashion, he certainly hadn’t developed or perpetuated the pay structure that had made some of the guards unhappy—and worse—nor had he been the one who had ignored the problems. What he worried about was what he didn’t know and what other problems in the chateau might be exploited to his detriment and that of his mother and brother. He wasn’t worried nearly so much about Aloryana now that she was an imager, since the imagers were more than capable of protecting her.

  Bhayrn was already there, and he turned to Charyn and asked sardonically, “So what did you do to get Yarselt mad enough to try to kill you?”

  “I told him that he’d have to guard you when you start riding out next month,” replied Charyn dryly.

  “Most humorous, elder brother.”

  “Someone offered him a hundred golds, and gave him five in advance.”

  “A hundred golds? That seems rather petty. I’d think a thousand would be more appropriate.”

  “It might be, but a guard will be lucky to see two or three golds perhaps once in his life, if ever.”

  “So much for loyalty,” sneered Bhayrn.

  “I don’t think you can buy loyalty, but you can certainly buy disloyalty from those who only work for coin.”

  “Maybe you should be a philosopher.”

  “Rather than a rex? I don’t think I have that choice at the moment.”

  “You never did,” interjected Chelia as she entered the parlor. “Most choices are illusions.” She gestured toward the family dining room. “Shall we eat?”

  The dining room was cool, almost cold, despite the fire in the hearth at the far end, as the three seated themselves. A tacit acknowledgment to that chill and the season was the inclusion of hot mulled wine, along with carafes of both red and white wine. The dinner was a large roasted chicken, along with cheesed mashed potatoes and carrots casseroled in molasses.