The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set

by Graham Austin-King

  “The bean counters couldn’t touch it since the trades were all made in Surama, so they decided to levy a retrospective import tithe on wine. It’s blatant!” Raysh stopped, realising he’d stormed to his feet and sank back into his chair, still muttering.

  “Anyway, my dear, I believe you were making a point?” Rentrew smiled.

  “It was more of a question than a point, but thank you.” She turned back to Salisbourne. “I think it’s so obvious, it’s been staring us in the face. What does Pieter gain from us being forced to act in his stead, throwing our own wealth and forces in the path of this invasion? We’re not equipped to stop them and all that results, unless he acts, is our impoverishment.”

  “That’s true, but if he continues to ignore it, he risks outright rebellion. He flies in the face of a thousand years of tradition. This defiance of the tenets of the pact will never be allowed to stand,” Jantson said.

  “And if there is outright rebellion?” Selena asked.

  “Well, then I expect he would have to bring in his own armies to crush it. You know that. That's why we’ve never considered acting in open opposition,” Salisbourne replied, his tone mirroring the confusion on his face.

  “Suppose, for a moment, that we were forced into outright rebellion. Even if we had the majority of the lords on our side, Pieter would respond in force. He’d most likely crush us under his boot.” Selena ticked it off on one finger. “Then, with his armies already mustered, he could engage the Bjornmen and drive them out. That would leave him with newly recaptured lands, noble houses that had either been weakened or destroyed outright, and a populace that sees him as their saviour. What, gentlemen, do you think he might do in such a situation?”

  “Anything he pleased, I imagine,” Raysh said. “It’s any politician’s utopia. He could do anything.”

  “I don’t think it’s as broad an opportunity as all that. He’s king already. The scope of ambition narrows the more power you attain. He really only has one place left to go.”

  “You don’t mean...?” Rentrew gasped.

  “Emperor.” Selena nodded. “What’s to stop him? Abaram’s Pact will be dead in the eyes of the peasantry. Most of the nobles will have shown themselves to be unable to protect them. They will even have risen up against the king, the very man who then overcame the rebellion and drove the Bjornmen invaders from his shores. Why not rebuild the empire and concentrate the power?”

  “Why not simply declare himself emperor and not risk the lands?” Raysh asked.

  “Because the lords would oppose him. He couldn’t be seen to just seize power like that. Aside from anything else, it would fly in the face of Abaram’s Pact,” Salisbourne said softly.

  “It’s still a hell of a risk,” Raysh argued. “What if he can’t retake the lands?”

  Selena went to the drinks cabinet and lifted a crystal decanter, sniffing at the wine whilst holding the heavy stopper. “It wouldn’t matter. He'd still be emperor. With all the armies of Anlan at his disposal, I expect he’d be able to retake the lands at his leisure. Unless he underestimates the Bjornmen hugely, of course. Even if it took years though, he’d still have massive support.”

  “So what do we do? We seem damned either way,” Rentrew interjected. “If we openly oppose him, we play right into his hands. If we ignore him, the Bjornmen continue to take our lands.”

  “I would suggest a measured response,” Selena said, setting the wine down untouched. “Outright rebellion is risky at best and doesn’t really meet our purpose. No, the core of this is the pact.”

  “The pact?” Raysh scoffed. “It’s a political measure. Does anyone here even know what it says? It’s simply an agreement that we pay the tithe in return for his protection.”

  “I rather suspect it might be more than just that,” Selena replied, pursing her lips in thought. “The pact is more than some obscure document. It’s become a convention without most people knowing what it really says. We're bound to the concept of it, as is Pieter. His whole kingdom functions on the basis of it. Perhaps with a little research, it can be turned to our advantage.”

  “You want to go and poke your nose into dusty old books?” Raysh was scathing. “The king has ignored the fact that your lands are being invaded, and levied taxes that defy sense and reason. He dismisses the missives of his nobles asking for aid and even rejects your requests when you petition him to his face. He does all this and that’s your response?” He swept his legs off the desk and stood, brandishing his glass at her.

  “I thought you were serious about this,” Raysh grated. “How much more land do they need to take from you before you’re willing to act?”

  He pushed past Salisbourne and gave them all another dark look before he left.

  “Well, that was spirited,” Jantson said, with a forced chuckle.

  “He’s drunk,” Salisbourne said, with a shrug that was almost an apology.

  “How much was his tithe?” Rentrew asked, looking at the open door.

  “Upwards of ten thousand marks. He didn’t tell me the exact figure,” Salisbourne admitted.

  “Ten thousand,” breathed Selena. It was more than half her annual tax revenue.

  “Yes, well, you can see why he might be upset,” Jantson murmured.

  “I think it’s time we got back to the ball, gentlemen.” Selena said, becoming businesslike again to move past the shock of Raysh’s tithe. “We’re going to become conspicuous like this. Salisbourne, why don’t you come for dinner in a day or two. It’s not necessary for us all to meet at once and if, as Jantson says, Pieter has spies here, we need to be more careful. I’ll see what I can discover about the pact and if there is a way we might be able to use it. I would suggest it might be an idea to see to your own forces, gentlemen. We might need them all if things go wrong here.”

  She opened the door and swept out into the hallway, before looking back over one shoulder with a crooked smile. “Coming, boys?”

  ***

  “Where is it?” Selena muttered to herself, as she flipped the page over. “Mention after mention of it, but where is the document itself?”

  She strode to the doors of the study, wrenching them open and moving through the halls to the staircase.

  “Get me a carriage,” she snapped at the first servant she saw. “Oh, and fetch Hanris. He's going to accompany me.”

  She stood at the entrance to the villa and tapped her foot until the carriage was brought around, then tapped it some more until the sound of running footsteps heralded Hanris's arrival.

  “your grace,” he greeted her, in between puffs and wheezes. “Had I known of your excursion, I would have planned accordingly.”

  “You didn’t know because I didn’t know, Hanris,” she said. “I can’t think what keeps you so busy here, anyway,” she said, as she made her way out into the grey afternoon and down to the carriage.

  She clambered into the carriage and waited while Hanris climbed in. It really was so much simpler for a man, she noted. Gowns might look fine, but they really were impractical in many situations.

  “So, Hanris,” she said brightly. “Tell me what you know of Abaram’s Pact. I thought we might go to the royal archives and see if we can find a copy.”

  “Abaram’s Pact?” he burst out.

  She looked at him calmly. “You know, Hanris, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were genuinely irked. What is the problem here?”

  “your grace, might I speak freely?”

  She nodded.

  “Your grace, whilst your holdings are not quite as extensive as they were before the Bjornmen incursion, there is still a significant amount of land and holdings. All of which produce revenues and costs which must be properly logged and accounted for. I am hampered by distance as it is.” Hanris sighed.

  “Do you mean to tell me, Hanris, that you are still doing the accounts for the entire duchy? From Celstwin?” She normally adopted a rather playful, teasing manner with Hanris. He was so much fun to torment. This news, h
owever, had thrown her completely.

  “Such are the requirements of my position, your grace.”

  “Lords and Ladies, Hanris,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t bring you all this way so I’d have an accurate tally of the corn taxes! I brought you because you happen to have a rather keen mind buried underneath all those dusty reports and figures.”

  “But, your grace…” he began.

  “Hanris,” she snapped, raising a finger between them. “I realise, now, that you must be drowning in tiresome reports. Understand, however, that I no longer retain you on my staff for that. Frankly, any child who knows to count past his fingers could do much of this work for you. Find some suitable people and bring them on board. Delegate, Hanris, delegate!”

  He deflated then, although she was sure she saw the ghost of a smile haunting his lips.

  “Now, tell me what you know of the pact,” she said.

  “To be honest, your grace, not a great deal,” Hanris admitted, taking his glasses off his nose and polishing them with a pristine white handkerchief. “I know it is an ancient document dating back to just beyond the fall of the empire. I believe it was an agreement between the regional barons and Earl Abaram, designed ostensibly to obtain his support against the Feldane invasion. In practice, it formed the basis upon which the Kingdom of Anlan was formed.”

  “Top marks.” Selena clapped her hands together. “Now, tell me this. Why is it I cannot find a single reference in any of the histories as to the contents of this agreement?”

  “I have...” He paused. “I honestly have no idea,Youryour grace. I must confess, however, that I was never really a scholar of history. No mentions at all? That seems very strange.”

  “Oh, there were mentions.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Broad strokes discussing the impact on the form of the state and the monarchy. That was all, though. There were no specifics, no meat to it.”

  “And it’s ‘meat’ you require, your grace?”

  She laughed then, a tinkling delighted laugh that filled the carriage. “Hanris, you are a delight sometimes.”

  “Indeed, your grace,” he said, without a trace of a smile. “If I might be so bold, your grace, I notice you are spending a great deal of time with the Lords Salisbourne and Jantson, and their associates. Attending balls and the like.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have always found it odd that the man leads in a dance. The woman cannot help but go where the man leads, even if it results in the dance going poorly.”

  She smiled. The man was genuinely worried about her. It was actually quite touching. “Dear Hanris, your concerns are sweet but really not necessary. A man might lead in the dance, but any woman who truly knows what she is about can direct a man without him ever knowing.”

  He fell silent at that and she watched the streets pass as they moved through the city. The trouble with manipulating people, she thought, is that you can never be entirely sure you are not on the wrong end of the marionette’s strings.

  The royal archives were not actually in the grand library, as she’d expected. Instead, it was a small, drab building in a side street. Selena looked out of the window with a puzzled frown as she waited for the driver to open her door.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked, as the man opened the door and extended a hand to help her down onto the stepping stool set by his feet.

  “The royal archives, your grace,” he said, with a short, tight bow.

  She raised an eyebrow and shrugged before heading for the doors. “Coming, Hanris?”

  The interior was poorly lit, the narrow windows in dire need of a good clean. Lamps were strung on the walls to compensate, and the smell of the oil mingled with the musty smell of old paper and parchment.

  A balding man in brown robes, behind a desk, half stood as they entered. “Can I be of some assistance?”

  “Perhaps,” Selena said, with a warm smile. It never hurts to start off on a friendly footing. “I have been doing some research into Abaram’s Pact and I wondered if you had an extant copy?”

  “We may have a duplicate stored away.” He stopped and frowned. “You do realise, of course, that this is not a library. These documents are extremely fragile and not available to the common public.”

  She sighed, and it had been going so well for a moment. “Hanris,” she muttered.

  Hanris stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Might I have your name, Sir?”

  The archivist stepped out from behind his desk and drew himself up. “My name is Brent, Second Assistant Archivist.”

  Hanris flashed a cold smile before turning to Selena. “Your grace, Brent, Second Assistant Archivist.” He turned back to the man and gestured towards Selena. “Allow me to introduce Her Grace, Selena Freyton, Duchess of Druel, The Wash and the Eastern Reaches.”

  He stepped a little closer, speaking in a low voice as he leaned in towards the man. “As you must realise, she is far from the ‘common public’.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, your grace,” Brent said, swallowing hard. “I’m afraid, however, that the archives are simply not open to visitors.”

  Hanris gave the man a look which clearly called into question not only his competence, but also his parentage and his grip on reality. He drew in a breath but stopped as Selena placed a hand on his arm.

  “Second Assistant Archivist?” she queried, in a mild tone.

  “That’s correct, your grace,” Brent replied. “As I said, I’m sorry but…”

  She cut him off. “Do you think I might meet the First Assistant Archivist?”

  “Well, I...err…,” he managed. “I’ll see if he has a moment to spare.”

  “Do,” Selena said, allowing a hint of steel to fall into her voice.

  They waited in silence, listening to the distant voices grow steadily in both volume and urgency. Hanris raised an eyebrow at Selena at the sound of hurried footsteps and she gave him a brief smile.

  The man who entered with Brent was short and thin, with close-cropped, silver hair. He smiled warmly and gave a small bow. “My apologies, your grace,” he said. “I am Ditton, the head archivist here. I am so sorry. Brent has clearly misunderstood the situation.”

  “I quite understand, Master Ditton.” She favoured him with a dazzling smile. “Working with a small staff can be so challenging, can’t it?”

  He gave Brent a sour look. “One problem of a reduced budget, your grace. Rest assured, Brent will have ample opportunity to reflect on certain realities. I understand you have an interest in Abaram’s Pact?”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “The original document is far too fragile to be moved, I’m afraid. Simply opening the case could cause irreparable damage to it.”

  “Surely there are copies?”

  Ditton raised his eyebrows and flashed a look at Brent that spoke of a temper barely contained. “Of course, your grace. We have several. If you’ll follow me?”

  He waved them through the double doors leading into the archives, pausing long enough to whisper something hard and short to Brent as he passed.

  ***

  Jantson burst into the room, not waiting for the servant to announce him. “They’ve taken Raysh,” he blurted.

  Selena sat back in her chair, placing a hand on the large book to mark her place. “They’ve what?”

  “Raysh has vanished. His servants don’t know where he’s gone. They say he was there in the evening but the next morning, when one of them brought in his breakfast, he’d gone.”

  “Perhaps he simply went for a walk?” Selena suggested.

  “Oh, don’t be foolish, Selena. He’s been gone two days now,” Jantson said, his manners rushing out of the way to let his worry through.

  “What makes you think he’s been taken, though? Taken by who?”

  “Oh, who do you think, Selena? Honestly, this isn’t some game we’ve been playing here!”

  Her eyes turned hard at that. “I am quite aware of the stakes, thank you,
Lord Jantson. My people are being butchered as their homes burn. Can you say the same?”

  He suffered her gaze for a silent minute before sagging down into a chair. “I’m sorry, Selena. This has caught me on the back foot and I’ve not steadied myself yet. If Pieter has taken Raysh, he could come for any of us. I keep looking behind and expecting a hand to fall onto my shoulder.”

  “Calm down, Jantson.” She reached for the bell and rang it loudly.

  “Bring some brandy for the earl,” she instructed the young man in livery who appeared in response.

  She waited in silence until the man returned with a snifter already filled with the dark amber drink, together with a crystal decanter containing more. He passed the glass to Jantson and, after a nod from Selena, set the decanter down on the table.

  “Now, tell me,” she began, after he’d managed a shaky swallow, “what makes you think Pieter has him?”

  “He hasn’t just left, Selena. He’s quite literally vanished,” Jantson explained. “His servants are panicking. They have no idea where he is. Salisbourne even tells me his business associates are looking for him because he’s missed meetings. He runs almost everything himself. He can’t simply walk away for a day or two. His entire business would collapse.”

  “Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to locate him, won’t we?” Selena smiled.

  “How? Pieter won’t be holding him openly. He could be anywhere in Celstwin.” Jantson emptied his glass and poured another, the neck of the decanter clinking loudly against the glass.

  Selena thought for a moment. “You’ve hit on it yourself. He can’t be held openly. A lord can’t simply be dragged out of his home, not even by the king. Pieter has changed the tune, thus we must change the dance.”

  “What?” He shook his head with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll deal with it.” She smiled again. “Trust me. In the meantime, though, I need you to pass word to your associates and to Salisbourne that I’m going to issue a call for a Council of Lords.”

  Jantson coughed and threw his palm in front of his face to keep from spraying brandy across the room. “A what?” he blurted. “There hasn’t been a Council of Lords in more than two centuries!”