Charyn ignored the glance and waited.
“It’s Father. He’s ill. Deathly ill. He’s not expected to live out the month, certainly not the season.”
“He’s been in ill health lately, you’d said,” temporized Charyn, thinking about all he had heard about his uncle’s gambling and drinking.
“It’s worse now. He can’t get out of bed. He’s still demanding wine and more wine, in the same Namer-damned way. He’s never cared about anyone else. Just about himself. He set up his debts the same way. They were secured against the estates, and they’re due and payable immediately upon his death.”
“They can’t be inconsiderable,” offered Charyn.
“Ten thousand golds! Ten thousand! That’s more than a year’s worth of rents on the estates, and that doesn’t take into account all the work that needs to be done … or the year’s tariffs.”
“It could take a while to pay those off.”
“I won’t have that time. The only way he could get that amount of golds was to stipulate that they had to be paid before I can succeed him. If I can’t pay, the debt holders can force the sale of lands to come up with the golds. I’d likely lose enough land that I might not be a High Holder.” Ferrand looked directly at Charyn. “I was hoping…”
Charyn smiled wryly. “Ten thousand golds? With what’s happened here … You might recall someone burned over ten thousand golds’ worth of wheat … and those golds were necessary to pay for running the estate at Tuuryl.” Charyn didn’t add that the landwarden had five thousand left in reserve and there were still ten silos there that had not been destroyed, but those had only been partly full. That still meant Charyn was going to have to find three thousand golds or so somewhere. “Then on Lundi, I got a dispatch that said the old palace in Solis, which has served as the residence and workplace of the regional governor, had been burned by the same people who are trying to kill me. That means I have to come up with golds for a governor’s residence … not to mention that Father committed to building two more warships. They’ll cost close to ten thousand golds, which we don’t have. None of that includes a likely ten to fifteen thousand to rebuild the old palace.”
“You’re saying you won’t help me.”
“I’m saying that I don’t happen to have a spare ten thousand golds at the moment, nor am I likely to in the next year. Depending on the circumstances, I still may be able to help, but not with ten thousand golds.”
“I thought you were my friend.” Ferrand’s voice was cool.
“I still am. I need thirty thousand golds. Can you help me?”
Ferrand looked stunned.
“Are you my friend or not?” asked Charyn quietly, but before Ferrand could respond, he added, “Friends do what they can. Because we can’t doesn’t mean we don’t care. There may be other things I can do. I don’t know.”
“But you’re rex.”
“And with being rex come certain limitations. Just as you will not be able to sell your holding house and remain a High Holder, I cannot sell the Chateau D’Rex. I could raise tariffs, but if I do without the agreement of the factors and the High Holders, I will likely face another revolt. If I sell land from the estates, then there will be less in the way of revenues and rents … and even more need to raise tariffs.”
“But you’re rex…” repeated Ferrand, almost as if he had not heard a word that Charyn had uttered.
“That hasn’t exactly stopped four attempts on my life in the last month.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“People who are angry often don’t.”
“You’re not in much better shape than I am,” declared Ferrand.
“No one’s trying to kill you, either,” pointed out Charyn.
“That’s … a consolation, I guess.” Ferrand’s shoulders slumped. “You’ll do what you can … then?”
“I will.” I’ll even pray to the Nameless that your father doesn’t die any time soon. And that was a definite concession on Charyn’s part, given his reservations about the existence of the Nameless.
He smiled and stood. “Give my best to your mother.”
49
Vendrei morning dawned clear, and colder than ever. Charyn woke up disoriented for several moments before he realized he was in the regial bedchamber. Then after washing up and shaving with water that was far too cold, he had trouble finding warm garments because Delya had reorganized all his clothes when she had moved them. He ate alone, checked the new logbook at the duty desk, which showed no one seeking him, and made his way to his study.
Once there, he immediately read Veritum. The only news of great interest was a report that three more spice-trade vessels, one out of Westisle and two out of Solis, were long overdue and presumably lost to weather or privateers. Thankfully, there were no stories about Charyn or the chateau. One short story noted that the winter was already far colder than usual and that the River Aluse was frozen over from Rivages all the way to the north and as far south as Vaestora and might freeze all the way to L’Excelsis within a week.
That thought made Charyn shiver. The study was cool enough as it was, even with the windows largely covered by hangings.
He also needed to consider exactly how to approach Factor Elthyrd, who had responded on Jeudi afternoon that he would be pleased to meet with Charyn at the second glass of the afternoon on Vendrei. He had barely begun to consider that when Sturdyn announced the arrival of a courier from Marshal Vaelln.
Even if the courier had not announced that the dispatch was from Vaelln the green wax seal would have told Charyn that. He was opening the envelope even before the door had closed behind the departing trooper, hoping that Vaelln had more good news as he began to read.
Your Grace—
Word has just reached me that our flotilla stationed in the Abierto Isles was forced into an engagement with a larger Jariolan force on the third of Ianus. The Solidaran flotilla consisted of six warships, two of which were frigates, two of which were third-rate ships of the line, and two of which were second-rate ships of the line. The Jariolan force consisted of eight ships, two of which were second-rate, four of which were third-rate, and two frigates.
Our force sank three of the Jariolan third-raters and both Jariolan frigates, but one of our frigates was lost with all hands, as was one of our second-rate ships of the line. The other Solidaran vessels were badly damaged and have returned to Westisle for repairs and refitting. Although the engagement resulted in a victory, it will be another three weeks before the replacement force can be readied and arrive near the isles, and it is likely greater losses of Solidaran merchant ships will occur during this time because there are Jariolan privateers in the area.
This is the second encounter between Solidaran and Jariolan warships, as such, and it would appear that such encounters will increase. For this reason, I wanted to inform you as quickly as possible.
Charyn lowered the dispatch. Just what you need—a naval war with Jariola, even if no one is calling it that. The Solidaran force had sunk five Jariolan ships and only lost two, but the immediate result was likely to be more merchant ship losses.
“We need to write a short response to Marshal Vaelln.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, he had two petitions to read.
Charyn took a slow deep breath.
Shortly before second glass, after dispatching the message to Vaelln and drafting the responses to the petitions for Sanafryt to review, Charyn unlocked the hidden bookcase compartment and extracted the pouch with the golds and all the threatening notes, but not the blank paper that Howal had imaged. He put the papers into a neat stack, then stood and walked to the window, easing back the hangings and looking down at the rear courtyard. Despite the cold, it was swept clean. Charyn wasn’t certain it had ever been that neat.
He smiled faintly, then moved back toward the desk as Sturdyn announced, “Factorius Elthyrd.”
“Have him come in.”
Charyn smiled warmly at Elthyrd and gestured to the
chairs. “Thank you so much for coming.” Then he seated himself.
Elthyrd settled into the middle chair. “You did request my presence.”
“I did. I would have preferred to visit you, but with four attempts on my life this month, three last week, I’d rather not travel much for the moment.”
“I read the article in the newssheets about the late Guard Captain Churwyl. I take it that there was more to that than was written.”
“He attempted to knife me. When that failed, he lit a barrel of powder. Howal and I were most fortunate to suffer only bruises and the like. There is something strange and disturbing about all these attempts. You have great experience in the world and have seen far more than I. I would appreciate it greatly if you would read over each of the threatening missives that we—my father and I—have received in the past two months, beginning with the first one, which arrived several days after the shooting of a guard and Bhayrn’s mount.” Charyn handed the first threat to Elthyrd.
“Your father read this to me.”
“I thought he had, but I wanted you to see it and read it again. When you’re done, place it on the desk to your left, slightly to one side.”
When the factor had done that, Charyn handed him the second one. “This is the one that was delivered to the landwarden at Tuuryl after fire and explosions destroyed twenty silos of grain at the estate there. Alucar estimated the loss at close to twelve thousand golds.”
“Your father never mentioned this.”
“I also have the landwarden’s letter that forwarded the threat.”
“I doubt I need to see that.”
When Elthyrd finished reading the second threat and placed it on the desk, Charyn handed him the third. “This was left at the pulpit in Anomen D’Rex just before I offered my remembrance at Father’s memorial service. It was in an envelope sealed with black wax and stamped with a blank seal.”
Elthyrd frowned, but said nothing as he read the words before placing the third sheet beside the first two.
“This one I received a week ago on Vendrei, the day after someone shot at me when I was inspecting the rear courtyard.” Charyn handed over the fourth threat. “It was also in an envelope sealed with black wax and a blank impression, with an indentation on one side of the seal.”
Elthyrd read the fourth threat and put it on the desk.
Charyn handed him the fifth threat. “The last one was actually received in Solis by Regional Governor Voralch on the nineteenth of Ianus, the morning after someone used oils and explosives to destroy the old palace in Solis. It arrived here by urgent courier on Lundi.”
After the factor read the last letter, he said dryly, “It would appear that someone is not fond of you and your father.”
“That’s clear enough.” Charyn paused. “Did you notice anything … unusual about the letters?”
“They were all written in perfect standard merchant hand.”
“Look at the paper, if you would.”
Elthyrd studied each of the sheets, then said, “They’re all on the same paper. It’s a common paper, usually used by the smaller factors.”
That was something Howal hadn’t mentioned … or known. “But would a smaller factor have the resources to burn silos in Tuuryl and fire the old palace in Solis?”
“Only a comparative handful of factors could muster those resources. I couldn’t, not without all Solidar finding out in days.”
“Would any of the factors who are that wealthy want to kill me that badly?” Charyn laughed. “Well, some might, but would they consider taking that kind of chance?”
“You never know, but I’d think it highly unlikely. More like impossible.”
“But everyone who knows about paper and writing merchant accounts could easily find out that this paper is used by factors and that standard hand is used almost exclusively by factors and merchants?”
Elthyrd nodded.
“All of this puzzles me,” mused Charyn. “The threats seem to be from a factor, but most factors wouldn’t have the resources to carry them out, and, from what you’re telling me, the ones who do wouldn’t be interested in taking the risk to apply this kind of pressure.” He paused. “Or am I missing something?”
“What you say makes sense.” Elthyrd smiled ironically. “Some people don’t, especially people with great power who aren’t often held accountable.”
Charyn understood exactly what Elthyrd was implying. “The problem in dealing with such people is that they often have such power that they leave almost no proof linking them to their misdeeds. Others with less power will always defer to greater power, and attempting to bring them to account for what they have done could result in creating great unrest, especially if the factors thought I was being arbitrary or unjust.”
“That proved an insurmountable problem for your father, I fear. As it would for anyone of a cautious nature.”
“It’s hard to know when caution is warranted, and when it is a barrier,” replied Charyn. “I have done my best to deal with the problems of the factors, and I believe many of the factors are coming to understand that.” He paused again. “Or am I mistaken or overly optimistic?”
“Perhaps a trace too optimistic. I have been endeavoring to point out to my colleagues that you have already attempted more than either your father or grandfather, and I believe that some are beginning to understand that.”
“Do you have any other thoughts on … these?” Charyn gestured to the threatening missives.
“They’re most suggestive, but…” Elthyrd shrugged. “Without at least a scrap of proof, it might be difficult to act against someone almost everyone suspected. And, if it happened to be someone no one suspected … that would be most difficult.”
Charyn nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your thoughts and your counsel. I am considering bringing the matter before both councils, possibly even before the next scheduled meeting.”
“I would not mention it to either of the councils unless you have some proof. At least some of them, possibly more, will find anything inconclusive … not in your favor, if I might speak frankly.”
“I respect that advice, as well. Thank you.” Charyn smiled as he stood. “I will not keep you longer, and I do appreciate your kindness in coming, especially in this weather.”
“Your Grace, I believe I understand, better than many, the difficult situation in which you find yourself. I can assure you that the factors are more than willing to look at approaches and leadership that represent an effort to be open and fair.” Elthyrd rose. “It is known, if quietly, that you are a member of the exchange and that you visited often to learn its workings, and that you never acted beyond the station you assumed.”
Once Elthyrd had left the study, Howal looked to Charyn. “Might I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“I could not help but hear what was said and what was not. I gained the feeling that both of you believe you know who the person behind all the attacks may be.”
“So does Maitre Alastar,” replied Charyn.
A look of surprise crossed Howal’s face. “But…”
“It’s not that simple.” Would that it were. “There’s the absolute lack of solid proof. There’s also the fact that the rexes of Solidar have not exactly endeared themselves to the people of Solidar or to its factors and High Holders. I’ve done what I can with the factors, but two months is scarcely enough time to change perceptions formed over years.”
“I can see that, sir.”
“I’m going to have you undertake an exercise. Perhaps it will help in clarifying matters. I’m going to write something down. I want you to write it in perfect standard merchant hand on one of the sheets of paper you imaged the other day, using the same kind of ink as the other letters.” Charyn went to his desk, where he sat down and wrote out two sentences. Then he stood and carried the single sheet to Howal, along with a sheet of the blank paper Howal had imaged earlier.
The imager took both, read the lines, and frowned.<
br />
“It sounds like what I’ve been getting, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, sir … but…”
“Just write it as if you were making a perfect copy, the way you did with the one. I’ll explain as we go.” Charyn went back to his own desk, where he gathered the original threatening messages, as well as the bag holding the golds.
Almost a quint later, Howal walked back to Charyn’s desk. “Here it is, sir.”
“Thank you.” Charyn looked at what Howal had written, then compared it to the other five threatening missives. “The lettering looks exactly the same as the others. Is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many people could have done the same? A score, a hundred? Possibly more? The ink is common, as is the paper.”
“Across all Solidar? At least a hundred.”
“Now, image an envelope out of the paper.”
Howal did.
Charyn folded the single sheet and placed it in the envelope. “Can you image the black wax and the seal like this one?” He held up the envelope where he had slit the side rather than break the seal. “With the impression there on the edge of the blank seal?”
“I can.”
“Please do.”
When Howal had finished, Charyn said, “You see? Someone else could easily have used black wax and any circular piece of metal to seal the envelope. How could you prove who wrote or sent it? That’s the problem of proof. We have five letters, and no way to tie them to anyone.” He smiled as he picked up the sealed false threat letter. “For now, I’ll keep this as a reminder of what I need to find.”
He paused. “Could you image a stick of black wax?”
“Ah … yes, sir.”
“I’ve never had any black sealing wax. It might come in useful.”
After Howal had laid the stick of wax on the desk, Charyn left it there, then waited until
Howal returned to the conference table and resumed work on the final draft of one of the petition responses before quietly replacing the letters, including the false one, in the hidden bookcase compartment, along with the black wax.
Is there any other kind of proof you can find?
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