Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Aedryt inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m happy you’re pleased. The men and boys all find it a much better place now.”

  “I can certainly see why.” Charyn paused. “It seems to me that you deserve at least a token of appreciation.”

  “Your Grace, everyone pitched in.”

  Charyn smiled. “Then everyone deserves a small token of appreciation. There will be an extra silver for everyone … and a bit more for you, Aedryt. I’d like it to be more, but … as you must know, times are hard.”

  Aedryt actually swallowed, Charyn noticed, before he said, “We didn’t do it … in hopes…”

  “I know. The care everyone took shows. But my appreciation doesn’t buy shoes or the like.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Aedryt inclined his head.

  “You all deserve it, you especially for taking charge and getting it done.” Without beatings and theft. Charyn nodded in return, then turned and headed for the rear entrance to the chateau. Although the day was warmer than those of the past week, he still found himself shivering as he stepped into the rear foyer.

  “That was quite something,” he finally said to Howal as they climbed the grand staircase.

  “It was. Kaylet and Aedryt worked hard.” Howal lowered his voice as he continued, “You know that no one in the chateau can remember the last time your father showed appreciation for anything?”

  Charyn couldn’t say he was surprised, except that Howal knew that. “You’ve been talking to everyone, haven’t you?”

  Howal chuckled. “Not so much lately. I heard more when no one knew I was an imager.”

  “What else have you heard that I don’t want to hear and that I likely should?”

  “I think you know all that you need to know.”

  “That’s not exactly an answer.”

  “You know that you can’t trust Aevidyr or Sanafryt to do anything but what is in their own interest … or that Alucar is good with numbers and is honest, but doesn’t like to offer unpleasant news to you. If you rely on what others tell you, you become their captive. Listen, but don’t rely on it unless you know it yourself or can find out.”

  “That’s still not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one that’s in your own interest.”

  “That sounds more like Maitre Alastar.”

  “That’s because he advised me to tell you that.”

  Charyn laughed softly.

  When they reached the study, Charyn made his way to the desk and began to write out the authorization for the extra pay to be handed out by Aedryt.

  By the first glass of the afternoon, Charyn had sent Howal back to Imagisle for the rest of the weekend. Then, with nothing immediate to do, and no desire to brave the cold, or another possible attempt on his life, he retreated to his sitting room with a history of Solidar. A quint or so after second glass, he stopped and massaged his forehead. He had just reread a passage that had struck him as strange. He read it for a third time.

  By the time of the first Rex Regis, the decline of the scholariums across the continent of Lydar had become precipitous, largely caused by a distrust of the secretiveness of the scholars and of their dubious connections with those in power, as in the covert alliance between the scholars of Tilbor and the Tilboran hill holders, an alliance destroyed by the success of Rex Regis … It can be argued that the rise of the Collegium Imago sealed the fate of the last of the scholariums, in large part because the rigid discipline, the high personal ethics, and the isolation of the imagers from the day-to-day power struggles of the elites contrasted all too favorably with the apparent pettiness, secrecy, and seeming grasping for gold and favors on the part of the scholars …

  Seeming … apparent…? Charyn frowned, sitting in his armchair and continuing to ponder what the author had written. Yes, the imagers did have high personal standards, and they were clearly well disciplined … but did they really refrain from getting involved in power struggles? Or was the key phrase “day-to-day” power struggles?

  At that moment, there was a knock on the sitting room door.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you occupied?”

  Charyn recognized his mother’s voice. “No. I’m just reading. You can come in.”

  The door opened, and Chelia stepped inside. “If you have a moment, dear?”

  “I do … at least for the next three glasses.”

  “You’re having dinner here with Palenya?”

  “You must already know that.” Charyn’s words were wry.

  “Are you being fair to her?” Chelia eased into the other armchair, turning slightly so that she could face her son.

  “She’s made it very clear that she will be gone before long, one way or the other. I’ve arranged for her to teach other students at—”

  “I know. Aloryana wrote me about it.”

  “Palenya’s very quietly clever. She’s the one who planted the entire idea about the clavecin and teaching imager students. Did you give her the idea?”

  “I only said that it was a shame Aloryana couldn’t continue improving her skills on the clavecin.”

  “I should leave governing to you and her.” Charyn’s voice was not quite bitter. “I’d do better.”

  “You’ve done quite well so far under the circumstances.”

  “With other people’s ideas.”

  Chelia sniffed. “There are ideas everywhere. What counts is knowing which ones are good and making them work.”

  “Why did you stop by? Just to suggest that I let Palenya go and get on with finding a suitable wife?”

  “A suitable wife, as you put it, would be most unsuited to you. Were Palenya younger and able to have children we could have trumped up a way to make it work. She isn’t, and she knows it. Whether you want to recognize it or not, I like her a great deal.”

  Charyn didn’t know what to say.

  “It took me a long time to find her. And no, I don’t think you should hurry to find a wife. That would be a disaster, because you might actually make it work with the wrong woman, and that would ruin everything.”

  “The wrong woman? Who would be the wrong woman?”

  “Any woman who flattered your considerable ego. A ruler needs a solid ego, but he also needs someone who loves him who won’t flatter that ego, but who is gentle about it without yielding.” Before Charyn could respond, she held up a hand, almost imperiously. “We can talk more about this later. None of it will matter unless you can deal with your most pressing problem.”

  “How do you propose I do that?”

  “I’m not the rex, dear. I’m only your mother. I’ll only say that there are times to be kind, and times to be quietly and coldly ruthless. This is one of those times. You know that as well as I do.” Chelia smiled and rose from the armchair. “That is a very good history, by the way. I’m glad you’re reading it and not the Sanclere.”

  Charyn just sat in the armchair for a long time after she left.

  63

  Solayi might have dawned cloudy, but it was sunny and bright by the time Charyn finally woke … and discovered that Palenya had left sometime earlier. Possibly a great deal earlier, since it was well past eighth glass when he opened his eyes and almost ninth glass by the time he made his way down to the family breakfast room, where he found Bhayrn sulking over a mug of hot cider and a mostly eaten breakfast of flatcakes and ham strips.

  Charyn sat across from his brother and took a cautious sip from the mug of hot tea that appeared, before taking a fuller swallow to ease the dryness in his throat. He looked to the server, trying to remember her name, and finally recalling it. “Therosa … eggs with the flatcakes, please, and some berry syrup, if there is any.” He managed a pleasant smile, despite the nagging headache with which he had awakened, although he hadn’t recalled drinking that much wine the night before.

  He took another swallow of the tea.

  “You must have had a pleasant night,” growled Bhayrn. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at breakfa
st.”

  “I slept late.” Charyn had the definite sense that his brother was angry. “It does happen on Solayi.”

  “Worn out from inspecting the stables and barns? Or from playing duets, and other duets, with Palenya?”

  “I enjoy playing the clavecin with her.”

  “And a few other things.” Bhayrn snorted. “I heard you promised a silver to every stable boy and ostler. There must be thirty of them. Three golds! For what? Finally doing their tasks right?”

  “Did you see what they did? How much better and clearer the courtyard is. They reorganized the stables and barns…” Charyn broke off, seeing that Bhayrn wasn’t really listening. “What is it?”

  “I hate doing nothing. I hate being gaoled in the chateau. All because you and father feel like you have to listen to the High Holders and factors. Why didn’t you just order the army to shoot every single one of them who gave you trouble? That would have solved the problem without half the difficulty.”

  “Would it have built ships to stop the Jariolan piracy? When none of them would have paid their tariffs? And without tariffs, how would I pay the army?”

  “You have answers for everything—except you can’t stop someone from trying to kill us all.” Bhayrn did not meet Charyn’s eyes. “I’m sick and tired of it all. The weather’s sowshit. Aloryana’s gone, and there’s no one even to play placques with.”

  “You could play with Mother.”

  “No, I can’t. That wouldn’t work.”

  Because you have to win, and you can’t win without cheating, and you can’t cheat against Mother because she’d notice. Charyn wasn’t about to voice that thought. “Some times are like that. It will get better.”

  “When?”

  “Before long.”

  “It’s been too long already.”

  “It’s been less than eight weeks since … the Year-Turn Ball. That’s not a lot of time to change things.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Bhayrn rose abruptly, then bolted from the breakfast room.

  Several moments later, as if she had been waiting for a lull, the server returned with a platter holding Charyn’s breakfast and a small pitcher of syrup. “Your breakfast, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you very much, Therosa.” Charyn managed a smile.

  He ate slowly, almost methodically. Whether it was the tea, the food, or the quiet, by the time he finished, Charyn found that his headache had retreated and had almost disappeared. Almost.

  After leaving the breakfast room, drawn by the sound of Palenya’s playing, Charyn made his way to the music room, where he slipped in and stood beside a bookcase that mostly shielded him, listening as she played for almost a glass before stopping. Only then did he move toward the clavecin.

  She looked up from where she sat on the bench, a slight smile suggesting that she had known he was there all along.

  “I always enjoy your playing.”

  “I like playing, as much for myself as for others.”

  “You should. You play well.”

  “You didn’t come to flatter me.”

  “Why did you leave this morning?”

  “It seemed for the best. You were restless, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “You’re all right, aren’t you … I mean…”

  “I’m fine. That was last week.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “We are, but … the chairs might be more comfortable.”

  “What about the settee?” asked Charyn lightly. “Chairs seem … so formal.”

  He was rewarded with a brief smile as Palenya stood and walked to the settee, easing onto one end and turning. Charyn sat at the other end, facing her. Their trousered knees did not quite touch.

  “What were you playing at the end? I liked it very much.”

  She lowered her eyes for just a moment, then met his once more. “It was something I wrote. More of a ballade for clavecin.”

  “Have you written many of your own compositions? For clavecin or for more instruments?”

  “I have written a few … just for clavecin. No one wants music written by a woman.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Would you have thought that a year ago?” Palenya’s voice was gentle, firm, and not challenging.

  Just what Mother said I needed. Charyn flushed.

  “You see?”

  “That was then. I’ve learned a little since then. I understand patrons can commission works.”

  “Yes, that is so.” Palenya’s voice was wary, the first time Charyn had heard that tone in months.

  “Then I have a request … a commission.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’d like you to write something for me. I’d like a nocturne, and I want it to have a title, not just a number.” Charyn waited, but Palenya was silent. He finally went on. “I’d like it to be called ‘Nocturne for a Rex.’ You can write it however you see fit.”

  Palenya swallowed. “That’s … frightening. Like…”

  “I don’t want it as a memorial … more like the nostalgia of first love … if you can do that.”

  She just sat there, her eyes bright, even in the dim light, before she finally nodded.

  Charyn waited. He had learned that, too.

  64

  Charyn did wake early on Lundi, early enough that Palenya was still there, early enough that he could spend some time looking at her before she became aware that he was. As was sometimes the case, she even offered a sleepy smile, one that Charyn always relished. Too soon, she slipped away, and he washed up, shaved, and dressed.

  By the time, he reached the study, after breakfast and checking with both Norstan and Maertyl, where he looked out the window, he could see that, early as it was, the sun was warm and bright enough that its light had begun to melt some of the snow at the edges of walks and paved roads and streets.

  An omen from the Nameless … or a deception from the Namer just before more snow and ice? Charyn had little faith in omens. In the end, after he had done all he could, what would be would be.

  Outside of Factor Roblen, it appeared few, either High Holders or factors, wished to see him, and even the number of petitions had dwindled.

  Just after ninth glass, another courier from Marshal Vaelln delivered a dispatch, but the sealed courier pouch was brought up to Charyn by one of the chateau guards, while Howal broke the outer seal and carried the envelope to Charyn.

  Charyn read it slowly and carefully.

  The most recent encounter about which I have been thus far informed between Jariolan forces and ours occurred east of the Abierto Isles on the sixteenth of Ianus. The Solidaran flotilla patrolling the isles came across a privateer and two Jariolan warships just as they were concluding the process of plundering two Solidar merchant ships. The flotilla sank both Jariolan vessels without significant damage to our ships, but in the conflict the Jariolans sank both merchanters. The ships of the flotilla did manage to rescue over thirty of the merchant crew. No rescue of the Jariolan crews was attempted.

  Charyn winced, but he understood the reasoning of the Solidaran Navy captains, that anyone who sank a merchant ship because they were losing a battle didn’t deserve saving. He continued to read.

  The second southern flotilla, posted off the east coast of Otelyrn, was successful in shielding eight merchanters bound to Solis, after sinking one Jariolan privateer. Because of the presence of three Jariolan warships that shadowed the convoy, the flotilla was obliged to continue accompanying the merchanters for nearly a week, ending on the twenty-third of Ianus, which likely and regretfully removed some degree of protection for other Solidaran merchant ships engaged in the spice trade.

  He set down the message, not really looking anywhere. Another trade-off. But wasn’t everything associated with being rex turning into a trade-off of one sort or another? And if what you have in mind works, you’re going make another trade-off. As if he could see any other choice.

  “Sir?” asked Howal respectfully.

&nb
sp; Charyn picked up the dispatch and held it up for Howal. “Mostly good news from Vaelln, but not enough to keep some factors from complaining that I’m not doing enough.”

  Howal took the letter and read it quickly, returning it to Charyn. “This doesn’t sound so bad as you make it out to be.”

  “Right now, their merchant ships are free to trade. Ours are the ones running the risks. If I commission privateers the way the Oligarch has, and turn them loose on Jariolan merchanters, that will turn matters into a complete state of war. It will also largely stop our warships from protecting merchanters. So we’ll lose both more merchant ships and more warships at a time when we have fewer warships. Right now, we’re destroying more of their warships than they are ours. If we keep that up, and build more ships, we’ll end up in a much stronger position.”

  Howal did not reply for several moments. Then he said, “Why haven’t you told more people that?”

  “And let the Jariolans know that our strategy is working better than theirs so that they can change what they’re doing?” Charyn paused. “I do intend to let the councils know that we are destroying more of the Jariolan ships than they’re taking in return.”

  “But not the rest of it?”

  “I’d rather not. Not yet. They’d take that as a promise, and things can always change.”

  Howal nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  Charyn had the feeling that what he had said had not displeased Howal, but he had no idea whether the imager agreed with his strategy. Unhappily, that strategy was the best one he’d been able to come up with.

  A quint or so later, Aevidyr arrived in the study.

  “Your Grace … there is a matter of which I believe you should be aware.”

  Charyn motioned for him to take a seat. “What might that be?”

  “You may have noticed that the River Aluse is now frozen over all the way from the Montagnes D’Glace to well south of Caluse.”

  “I have.”

  “When the river freezes that solid and as early as it has, there are always floods in the spring, often very high waters.”