"All of it," Pendat was terse, business-like. "That," he pointed to the left, "is the portion for the men, assuming standard divisions. The rest," he gestured to the right, "is yours."
Yahret crossed to the table as his opposite number spoke and picked up the bunch of papers there. He sorted through them and pulled out four sheets. "It has all been assayed; your entire share is in coin, but the weights vary remarkably. We bagged it by weight. It's all here," he passed me the papers and I scanned them, trying to make sense of the numbers, figure out the system used to organise the information.
"Good." There was a good amount, plenty enough to restart the economy. A good deal of it was city coin, old and worn but serviceable. There was also a chest holding bags of coin of a weight close to that of the base coin used in the city. Money spent outside our economy is lost but there's no shortage of silver and gold. Every now and then someone will pay a vast sum for the magic needed to find gold and silver in territory they control. Sometimes it is found without magical aid. The great thing about commodity money is that you can just dig it up out of the ground when you start running short. Still, we use small silver coins; no sense being profligate.
With a little help I located the right chest. "Bring that," I told them, then led the way back to the hall where my new magistrates were waiting.
It was time to get some money in circulation. Lendrin Treleth would have stocks that needed buying; I had money and people who needed his stock. I'd get some of it back off him later in the form of tax, and put it back in people’s hands one way or another. Money is useless if it isn't changing hands. That's what it is for.
Meran carried a portable desk and a copy of the census. He had paper and ink to write simple contracts. I was not planning on giving anything away, but beginning today I would loan money for specific projects, starting small so that everyone got something to begin to rebuild their lives with.
The new magistrates fell in around me as I headed for the door. Two soldiers carried a trestle table between them, another carried folding chairs. I don't much like being escorted by soldiers but they were needed for crowd control. Later, when things settled down, I would walk the city without them, but not yet.
I squinted as I passed out of the hall and the sunlight of the enclosed courtyard beyond flooded my eyes like acid. There were guards here as well, I noticed; standing against the closed doors of a stable across the yard. That is where the prisoners would be; a problem for later. I wondered where the horses were, just for a moment, then decide it didn't matter enough to fret about. They have a value and whoever turfed them out of their quarters would have put them somewhere almost as secure. Part of me wanted to find one of them and take it for a long ride, but duty held me. I had taken responsibility for a large number of lives, and though I wanted to and would shed that responsibility in time, I would only do it as fast as they could take up the burdens of their own lives. Right now they barely had food in their bellies and roofs over their heads. It was my job to give them hope and the belief that work would produce results for themselves and their families.
I knew the way I wanted to go, though I'd only walked it once. There was a broad archway with an open gate that led into a narrow street between outbuildings parallel to the hall. At the far end there was another gate, then the communal ovens. I glared at them. Communal ovens. That had to go. A baker would rent them from me and sell the bread he baked. If another man wanted to make ovens and bake bread, I'd loan him the money to do it, but for now one would have to do. There is just no sense everyone wasting time baking bread when one man can do it for everyone. Still, I reflected as I passed it by and scanned the crowds who were milling in front of the hall, they will have to work damn hard to feed this many people; the ovens were made for far fewer.
Right now the ovens were in use. Crowded. Not far away a donkey ran a mill stone, turning the doled out grain into flour. Just as crowded. People waiting their turn in one place or the other. More coming from the granary, where Meran's men were stationed, swapping tokens for grain and issuing the next day’s token. The granary was close, too; part of the same complex of buildings that was my home for now, and the focal point of the community. There were far more women than men, children everywhere. Only the children seemed to have any energy and few of them had any enthusiasm; only the younger ones, the ones who didn't understand, who still saw life as one long adventure.
The noise was enough to make me wince, animals in the background, their constant distressed calls blending in with the angry and fearful vocalization of the people. There were soldiers in evidence, stationed in pairs, avoided by the crowds, acting as vigils and keeping a lid on things. People were wary of them, not openly fearful but not including them in the scene either. The soldiers were outsiders, symbols of the change that had ruined lives. For the women and older children of Darklake, they were the killers of husbands, brothers and fathers; the same soldiers who had evicted them from their homes and crammed them in with other families so there was space for the people of Learneth; the same soldiers who kept their surviving men prisoners, men whose fate was unknown.
For the men and women of Learneth, it was different; the soldiers were saviours, yes, but also a reminder of all that had been lost. They had come in the night, brought down a wall of Learneth with city magic, while Learneth burned and people died. Terrified, shocked, horrified by the loss of life and destruction the fire had caused, the people had allowed themselves to be led here; accepted assignment of accommodation; they had been questioned in a census and issued tokens with which to draw food. And then nothing. For days. They looked like what they were. Refugees. Among them I picked out small groups of thin, ragged men and women whose attitude was different; faced etched with years of hardship, hunger, fear and despair. These were the victims of the Necromancers; the sheep they kept alive to be shorn of whatever they produced. These were used to poverty; their situation had been changed the least and they were the most accepting of it. But like the rest, they were just going through the motions, surviving, not living.
Dull or resentful eyes turned our way and watched as we moved through the press of people that parted before us. Darklake was short on entertainment and we made an eye-catching group as we left the hall. Heads turned, people speculated, clustered and talked, knowing something was happening but not yet what. I heard Anista's name called out a few times but I didn't stop. It was the first time she had been seen in days and her people had wondered about her. Inevitably some followed as I led the way through the crowds that bunched around us, heading for what had passed for a market square among the wide-spaced round-houses of Darklake. Twenty tents were pitched here; normally camp tents for my maniple, they are now temporary homes. Among them a few other tents that had been scavenged showed a different style. The area was large enough that the crowd already here and the one gathering behind us left plenty of room. I settled on a clear area and stopped.
"Here will do," I said.
The trestle table was set up and the chairs placed. I took one, Meran another, Pendat took the third and Yahret opened the chest and begins pulling out bags of coin and setting them on the table. All the while the crowd gathered around us, not too close, watching and waiting and speculating among themselves.
I glanced around. Behind us the new magistrates had lined up. Apart from Anista. She was in the crowd, surrounded by women and children, talking, reassuring. I left her to it. Whatever she might say could be rectified later, should the need arise. I hoped she would say little, but suspected she would say too much and the wrong things, guessed that she would make promises she wouldn't be able to keep. It didn't matter. She had been seen in my company, just like the rest, accepting my authority. That in itself would help things along and it was early days yet’ early days, but time to make a start.
I picked out a random face from the crowd, one who looked more curious than afraid. A tall man wearing tradesman's clothes. A practical man. I waved him forward and he hesitated only a mom
ent before he stepped up to the table to stand before me.
"What is your name and trade?" I asked him, flat voiced, emulating a bored bureaucrat.
He didn't let his puzzlement get in the way of answering. "Tanth Eparoth, millstone maker."
"Then all you need is tools and the services of a haulier," I made it half a question as I started counting out coins, guessing wildly how much money this man will need to start to ply his trade.
Pendat sat to my left, pouring through the census to find the man's name and mark it. To my right, Meran wrote a brief contract along fixed lines.
Tanth eyed the coins I stacked in front of me. "It takes time to raise a millstone, sir. And to transport it, and it's normal that a stone be commissioned. And I have to travel."
I held up a hand to forestall him. There was a crowd. I wanted to get through as many as I could. "But you had existing contracts to fill. And you can't have made a living simply by this one trade," I was guessing but it makes sense. How many millstones can a community need?
He shrugged. "Aye, one, but who knows if it's still wanted? I also make querns and do well enough as a jobbing builder and stone mason when there isn't enough work. Did well enough..."
I was already nodding. "There will be a market for hand-mills, don't you think? And I will employ builders and stone cutters for now," I glanced at the contract, eyeing the wording. I needed this man as a builder, quarryman, mason. I no longer wanted to fund him too much or he might set to work where I don't want him. Yet if he could make hand-mills on his own time and sell them, I wanted that too. "This is an advance," I told him. "We will be forming work parties of builders and quarrymen starting tomorrow. You will be paid eight coin a day if you want the work. You will need tools, no doubt." I stacked forty coins in front of him and stated the amount. Pendat wrote the man's name down and the amount, I saw he marked the census also. He might not always have time for that and I noted he had marked the name on the list so he doesn't have to look for it later and tick it off of the census. Meran finished writing, turned the contract and passed his pen over. Tanth made a mark, not quite a signature, and I guessed he was not literate.
"Thank you, sir," he said.
"The correct form of address is patron, not sir, if you become my client or not," I said.
"Oh, I'm your man, Patron." I could see the enthusiasm in his expression, the casting off of doubt and fear for the future, the birth of hope and purpose. He was a man of Learneth and I realised that he didn't know I was responsible for burning his town to the ground. Only Dubaku and I knew that for sure, I supposed. I certainly hadn't told anyone. I had been concerned that people might hate me, but if they don't know what you've done they can't hate you for it.
So it begins again, I thought. "As my client you can always turn to me in time of need, and I can always turn to you when I have need. There is an oath, but that can wait for another time."
I pick another face at random from the watching, growing crowd and gestured that man forward. Tanth scooped up the coin and moved away. As the new man took his place I stayed aware of Tanth moving into the crowd, watched him being stopped and talking to people, spreading the word of what was happening. Good enough.
"What is your name and trade?" I begin again.
#
"Take over here," I told Meran.
Meran just nodded, accepting the burden of responsibility without a qualm. I had talked to a few dozen people; men and women both, some of Darklake, some of Learneth. None yet of the Necromancers’ people; they weren't much in evidence but whatever their problem was they could wait. I was tired, dizzy, my head hurt and my eyes ached and I needed to be doing something else. The crowds had grown, and more soldiers were called to control them. Confident that Meran knew how things were supposed to work, having seen me deal with a slew of situations both simple and complex, I wanted to leave him to it. He needed the experience. It would take time, days, probably. In the meantime everyone would draw the food dole and no one would starve.
Holding the back of the chair for support, I took a look around. People were still gathering. Behind me, the four new magistrates were talking to people at the edge of the rough cordon the guards had made. The guards were there to discourage crowding, not to stop people talking. I wondered how much attention the magistrates had been paying, wondered what they were doing other than consolidating their own positions by talking up their own importance and influence, promising advantage for support, striking deals literally behind my back.
For a second I was tempted to put them to work, tempted to call for other tables and chairs and coin and literate men, but I didn't want to give them any real power over anyone or anything yet. I didn't trust them. Not that I think a man in a position of power shouldn't take advantage of it; of course anyone will, it's human nature. But the point is that what is to their advantage should also be to the advantage of those they deal with. And everyone should have access; that's why the patron-client relationship exists. I'd take a little time to judge them before I gave them any real responsibilities.
Suppressing a sigh, I made a decision and pushed myself away from the table where Meran had already called another man forward. I picked out Yahret and stepped up to him. This needed to go faster.
"Get another chair, more paper, I want to double up here. And find Balaran." If he were my client he would have presented himself this morning. But he wasn't. He was a battle mage, and a noble in his own right, though attached to my command and under my orders. Still, I should have thought of him earlier. As a mage he would pretty much suit himself unless I actually gave him an order. "Ask him to join Meran and assist him."
"Yes, Patron," he sketched a salute and moved away, relaying the order to a subordinate.
Then I turned and looked at the magistrates, sizing them up. Anista was also there, a crowd of what I took to be her own people waiting to talk to her. Well, it is what they were there for, to address people’s concerns, to assist them in standing on their own, to make it possible for them to deal with their problems. What concerned me was the total certainty I had that whatever they agreed would be in conflict with what I was trying to achieve. The only way to find out was to let them do it and see how they performed. I decided to leave the men of Learneth to it, but not Anista. Her people were suddenly the minority here, and it was their home to begin with. They would want too much and she would promise it to them, and I would make her break her word. Better if she wasn't let loose to cause problems I'd have to deal with later. As I stepped up to her I noted the face of the guard closest and resolved to question him that evening to find out what she had been saying.
The woman Anista was talking to noticed me and fell silent. Anista turned to face me, her expression less than welcoming.
"Why are my people being kept from their land?" She demanded, gesturing to the waiting woman. "Larissa was the wife of a warrior, with land and livestock, her sheep are penned here, many have been slaughtered by your soldiers, the rest are short of fodder and suffering," she barely seemed to take a breath. "She needs to put them to the land where they can feed but is denied the freedom to do it. She will be left with nothing," Anista's eyes flashed with outrage.
I turn to the nearest guard, killing two birds with one stone. "You will attend me this evening with the Centurions, there will be a change of orders."
He nodded assent. I could see he knew the order wasn't routine. I could practically see him thinking, making mental notes of what he guessed I wanted to know. Satisfied with that, I turned back to Anista. "There will be changes. Starting tomorrow the gates will be opened and the animals pastured," I included the woman, Larissa, noted her tension, the harrowed look of her. She had lost her man, lost part of her livelihood, her position; her future was uncertain. I understood but couldn't ease her burden all at once. "How many of your flock were taken?"
"Seven yearlings," she said, "and two stolen," she seemed on the verge of tears, so I guessed the last was true, at least.
; "You will be compensated when you choose to request it," I jerked my thumb over my shoulder to indicate Meran and the crowd slowly being dealt with. "But there are many people to see, many grievances to address. You will have to be patient," I was raising my voice only slightly. I wanted people to hear but didn't want to distract from the main event. "As for thefts, if you have an accusation to make there will be courts each day after noon and I will hear cases and mete out justice." I had no idea how much she thought her yearlings were worth, no idea how many she had actually lost since the town was taken, and I was confident that, overall, three times as many would be claimed for as had been taken. I didn't care, much. People will take advantage where they can, and my main objective was to get money into the economy. If it turned out to be too much it didn't matter; I could instigate mechanisms to deal with that problem.
"She doesn't need compensation," Anista snapped. "She needs her sheep back for the wool and the meat!"
I didn't even know how to respond to that, it was so stupid. "With money she can buy anything she needs."
"My home has been taken; I couldn't move all my possessions." Emboldened by her success, Larissa stepped forward as she spoke, looking up at me, her expression a mix of anger and fear and genuine distress.
I raised a hand quickly to forestall not only her but the guard who had moved to take a step closer, hand on his sword. She was too close for his comfort. "That also will be addressed when you make petition for restitution. You should know that I am instituting a building program and hiring masons, builders and carpenter and all skills needed to deal with the problem of overcrowding. New homes will be made available as they are built." Again, I let my voice carry, and also looked out over the crowd, seeing the scattered roundhouses these people had been using as homes. Better houses, I thought but chose not to say. Time would show them that life under city rule was better. "Now," I turned to Anista and dropped my voice to a lower pitch, "I have to go and speak with Lendrin Treleth. In your capacity as magistrate, I would like you to accompany me as a representative of your people."
The Invisible Hand Page 4