The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

  She had been ready to speak, her face set and angry, wanting to continue as she had been, but stopped herself as I added that last point. As a representative of the people, I'd said, and she had taken my meaning, 'come with me and exercise your power or I will do it alone and without you.'

  She nodded and turned back to Larissa, ready to walk with me. "Speak to that soldier, Meran," she said, hastily. "And you and your boys be ready to pasture your herd in the morning, Larissa. The gates will be open to you." She didn't look at me for confirmation as she spoke, deftly taking a portion of my authority for herself.

  Well, it was more or less what I intended. One man cannot rule so many and I had no desire to rule at all, let alone take the whole burden of it. Delegate as fast as you can, I thought. Spending all day every day dealing with other people’s problems was something I wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible. And the more you spread the power around the less of it there is to be abused by any one person. Only tyrants want to decide everything. Only fools think they can.

  Better if the people make a thousand decisions a day than one man try and make a thousand decision for them, I thought as I walked away, glancing back only briefly to be sure she was with me. I wondered if I could make her see it, see that letting people rule themselves was simpler and more effective than directing them. If I had heard it once, I had heard it a hundred times in my childhood; my father’s voice and my brothers echoing out of memory: "There are only two kinds of people; those who want to control other people and those who have no such desire. Keeping a check on those who want control is half the job of good government because they don't understand that good government primarily consists of the government keeping its big fat stupid nose out of other people’s business."

  "What?" Anista's voice was sharp and critical as she walked beside me, looking up in surprise.

  I hadn't realised I'd spoken out loud. The crowd was parting before us, encouraged by the presence of two soldiers I had not ordered to accompany me. Still, I knew that they knew their business and let them do their job. My uncle had provided me with veterans, experienced men who had seen it all and dealt with it all. The only reason I would ever have to issue orders was to remind them who was in command and arrange a few details to my satisfaction.

  "What is government for, Anista? What is its purpose?"

  She was surprised. It showed clearly on her face. "To rule, of course," she told me. "To direct the people along the path that is best for them, to ensure that all are fed and housed, to provide warriors to protect the people and fight their enemies, to sit in judgement where they are in dispute, to raise taxes and help the needy, to control land use, store and distribute grain, to control and coordinate the efforts of all to the benefit of all.”

  I had a lot of work to do. I glanced frequently at her as we walked, meeting her gaze as often as I could. "Let me tell you, then, what the legitimate areas of concern for a government are. Firstly, to provide a military that is sufficient to protect the people from outside aggression so that they can live in peace and without fear that they will be harmed by enemies from outside the lands that they inhabit. Secondly, to provide vigils to protect the people from internal aggression from other citizens. Also to provide courts to mediate disputes in contract and to administer impartial justice in cases of violence and theft perpetrated by other citizens."

  "Then you will punish the soldiers who stole Larissa's yearlings," she didn't quite make it a question.

  "No, I will not. They would have compensated her had anyone had any idea which beasts belonged to who. This should have been resolved immediately, but Meran is not experienced in these matters and let things slide, which is my responsibility as I put him in that position. He has not had to do this before."

  "And you have?" Her eyes flashed angrily. She still thought of me as a conquering enemy. Which, to be fair, I was.

  "Yes," I lied. "As I was saying, an army, vigils and courts; those are the legitimate areas of interest to government," I said, getting back to the point. "Apart from that, control of the amount of money in circulation and setting base lending rate are the two legitimate areas of the economy controlled by government. And that is all. There are no others. Any other matters the government takes to itself is an infringement of the people’s freedoms and does no good and as a consequence can only do harm."

  She was silent for a few strides. I could tell she wasn't accepting what I had said and was only marshalling her arguments, trying to control her anger. When people have made up their mind, they stop thinking; their emotions kick in instead. I looked around, caught a view of the gate we were heading for. The gate had been wrecked by my forces, the wall brought down for more than a dozen yards to either side. There was new scaffolding and twenty soldiers were rebuilding. Already I could see that the plans had changed since I had given the order to raise a fort outside the gate. The centurions were there, working with the men to peg off the intended structures and walls.

  "And in times of famine you let your people starve?"

  "In times of famine the price goes up, merchants respond by travelling further to buy and ship grain, they make more money until the market gluts and the price goes down again. It's self-regulating and no business of government. In a healthy economy, no one will just sit there and starve, they'll take action to deal with the problem, and the best thing any ruler can do is let them get on with it."

  "You should fix the price of grain so that it's fair and merchants don't profiteer on other people’s misery," she sneered.

  I'm not sure how I kept my patience with the sheer wrongheaded stupidity of that comment, but I managed it somehow. "As soon as there is a problem, make a law to solve it. And how would that law solve the problem? Would people suddenly start eating less because your limited reserve of grain is fixed at a low price? Would the food reserves grow larger now that grain factors know for a fact they can't make a profit? They aren't making a profit out of human misery and they are not making a profit out of hunger. What they are doing is solving the problem and making a profit out of making sure people don't starve. And what do they do with their profits? They spend them buying things that other people make so that those other people have money to solve the next problem whatever it may be."

  We passed through the gate. I can't remember when I've been angrier.

  I glared at the waters ahead of us. Darklake lived up to its name, sucking the light out of the day in a big black pool of darkness half a hundred yards away and spreading over twice that in any direction. The trading post of Lendrin Treleth stood on the opposite shore, a hive of activity that would take minutes to walk to. The path to the south looked the shorter walk, so I steered us that way and we walked along the shore of the lake.

  "And your solution creates more problems. If grain merchants can't make a profit buying and selling grain they will stop doing it..."

  "Orlek bought grain and gave it to the people," she interrupted me.

  She was proud of that, I saw, and moderated my response. You can't persuade people by making them angry, and I wanted her to understand. When I left, someone had to rule here and I wanted the people to have gained something from city administration. "When he bought grain, where did he get the money?"

  "The trade tariff on the pass and taxes, of course."

  Of course. "By taking money from the people and giving it back to them in the form of grain."

  She stiffened, head coming up and eyes flashing. Maybe I hadn't moderated my response quite enough. I pushed on.

  "Anyone who grows grain will grow surplus if they can and if they know they can sell it for a profit. If you fix the price so they can't, they will do something else instead, maybe grow something else to vary their own diet and reduce dependency on others. If there is no surplus to be bought then it doesn't matter what the price is fixed at. No one can buy what doesn't exist."

  "Orlek was a good ruler, he looked after his people. No one went hungry."

  The height of
human ambition should not be 'I'm not hungry.' I let it drop for a bit. Sometimes there's no point pushing. Still, "Have you ever heard of the law of unintended consequences?"

  "What?"

  Thought not. "It is a simple truth that every time you take action there are consequences. Some of those are predictable, others are not so obvious and can, in fact, work entirely against your intended objective."

  "What?"

  Too many big words? I stooped and scooped up a pebble, tossing it into the lake that was close enough now that I didn't have to put much effort into it. She started at the sudden movement a little more than I liked, and I learned that she was in fact afraid of me but hiding it. "It was my intent to kill a fish, did I succeed?"

  She looked at the expanding ripples. "I don't know."

  "Neither do I." I walked on and she caught up to me.

  "Stupid way to go fishing."

  "Exactly. But maybe worse if there were someone swimming there, an experienced fisherman diving for a catch and my stone cracked him on the head and killed him."

  She snorted in derision. "No one swims to fish, that's stupid. It's too cold in Darklake for that, it would kill you. People throw nets from the shore and haul them in. But there aren't so many fish anymore, so it isn't done much."

  "It was a metaphor, or allegory. A rubbish one but the first that came to mind. It wasn't meant to be taken literally."

  "I know what you meant, cityman, I'm not stupid. You intended to catch a fish but instead you killed a fisherman because you didn't think it through."

  "Call me Sumto. How could I predict there would be someone dumb enough to be swimming to catch fish?"

  "You couldn't, there wasn't."

  "Not this time."

  #

  I knew at once that I wouldn't like Lendrin Treleth. He was fat. Not 'carrying a little extra weight' fat or the 'powerful man turned sedentary' fat, but the health-threatening fat of a man steeped in indolence and self-indulgence. The whites of his eyes were yellowed, clearly showing the consequences of gluttony.

  The trading post was a hive of activity. Everywhere there were signs of preparation for commerce on a large scale. The corrals and stables were already in place, the warehouse only needed its roof, and smaller buildings, new dwellings, were under construction. The ground had been cleared in a narrow line outwards from each gate – the beginnings of a road. His people, and I'd had no idea there were so many of them, were harried and hurried, keen and focused. They were his clients and would share in his profits. What was good for him was good for them and they knew it by experience. They wanted this scheme to work, knowing they would benefit by it. He was a typical city noble, a merchant knight of some affluence and sharp economic acumen. He was going to be a pain.

  The gates had been guarded and I'd checked them over for breeches of our laws. There were none. They were armed but wore only leather armor; private guards, not soldiers. I'd have nothing to rebuke him with there. One of their number had been assigned to escort us from the gate, and it was he who brought us to the tent where Lendrin Treleth oversaw his people’s efforts. A desk and ledgers and papers and plans, a scribe to one side at his own desk, and Treleth issuing instructions to cut timber and lay it down to dry.

  "That will cost you," I commented as soon as the man was gone and we were greeted and settled in chairs across the desk from him.

  "I have been anticipating your visit, Sumto. Wine?"

  So he thought he knew me. "Yes, thank you. The trees are mine, and if you want to cut them down for your gain, you will have to pay."

  He sighed theatrically as he poured the wine with his own hand and passed us a cup each. "I am your father’s client, Sumto, and I know he requires you to cooperate with me."

  "I'm sure we are both aware of your relationship with my father," I took a sip of wine. "Now let's determine what our relationship will be. I have imperium, and these lands are mine by right of conquest to dispose of as I will for as long as my imperium should last. I have plans for the woodlands just to the south of here, and the land that the wood now grows on. If you want the lumber you can buy it from the men who cut it."

  He shrugged. "If the price is fair, I'll be happy to do so. May I rent land from you to do with as I see fit?"

  "You already do," I pointed to the dirt under our feet, "and we haven't set a price yet."

  He shrugged. "It's barely an Iugerum and the buildings are being built with my own labour, so shall we agree a hundred coin a year?"

  I shook my head, still forcing a friendly smile. I'd known I wouldn't like him. "You plan to dominate trade in the pass, to have the merchants who pass this way deal with you exclusively. You plan that the people buy from you and sell to you and you plan to control the prices. I don't know what goods come through this pass but I'm sure you have a fair idea and mean to capitalize on that knowledge. You plan to make a fortune, Lendrin Treleth, and you know I have no issue with that, but what you take from me will cost you a fair price. A thousand a year."

  He looked shocked. "Outrageous! I haven't made a coin yet and my initial outlay and expenses are enormous. A fair price would perhaps be two hundred rising to three in the second year."

  I'd noticed his eyes glittering avariciously when I had mentioned the trade through the pass and I knew I was right when I said he knew something I didn't. "Three and six in the second year to be reappraised after the fourth year."

  "Two and four, and reappraised by who?"

  "Whoever rules here, of course. The tax to use the pass will be set by me and be minimal. You can take four per cent if you gather it, the usual penalties for overcharging. I agree the rent." It was a good enough deal from my point of view.

  He snapped his fingers but the scribe was already reaching for a pen.

  "Agreed. The pass needs a road. I'll accept fifteen thousand coin to accomplish the task."

  "The road would benefit you, why should I contribute at all? You will hire local labour?"

  We were interrupted. "You will pay them a fair wage, feed them well and not overwork them."

  We both looked at Anista. Treleth said nothing, just looked shocked, so it was up to me again. "Pay and conditions are irrelevant. No one will be forced to work or to accept the offered day rate, and it will be a day rate so anyone who feels they are worked too hard need not work the next day. They will be paid," I continued as her eyes widened in outrage, "and will be able to buy their own food."

  "The work will take them away from their flocks and fields," she protested, "so how can they tend them and grow food at the same time as work for you? They must be fed as part of the agreement."

  Treleth settled back with a contented air, satisfied that I was being distracted from business. He was right. This was irritating, but necessary.

  "One man can produce much more food than he needs. Even here, where the land is poor and underdeveloped, that is true. If a man wants to work on the road and be paid he could, just for example, rent the land he usually works to a neighbour or any other man who claims the ability to work it. No one loses. Everyone gains."

  "If you pay to work someone else's land you will profit by the use of it and he will lose that profit," she stated. "And when the road is built the man who has worked on it has lost the production from his farm and the fat merchant here gains from the road he has built."

  "Of course," I said. "Why else would he build it?"

  She was on her feet. Even standing she wasn't that much taller than me. "You both profiteer on others' labour and rob them of the chance to work their own land and feed themselves and their families. Have you no hearts?"

  Have you no brains? I didn't say it. It was close, but it wasn't the way.

  "No. Not really. Listen," she was shocked by the admission and I pressed my advantage, "because this is important. I don't care about the people and they should all be glad of it. No," she'd drawn a breath to launch into a further attack but she was still off balance. "If I cared about them I would feed them and house t
hem and look after them like they were children all their lives, and I understand that that is a woman's instinct but it is not mine."

  "This has nothing to do with me being a woman, cityman," she fairly spat the words. "It has to do with you being a heartless using monster. You will exploit my people, take them from tending their crops and animals and cast them off when they have done your work."

  I glanced at Treleth. He was visibly enjoying himself. I could see his point, but I wasn't going to let him gain anything by it, this was just a side issue and had no direct bearing on our negotiations.

  "Exactly so," I made an effort to sound complacent and the shock treatment worked again. She paused and drew a deep breath and I inserted a question into the silence. "Why is there no road here?"

  She hesitated. "You are trying to trick me."

  "It's a simple question. Why is there no road through the pass?"

  "There was a road, once." I shouldn't have been surprised. The city had passed this way before. An army can build a road at better than a mile a day, and would have if they had passed through here in numbers. "The mountain rains are hard when they come. The rains wash out roads, even the trail must be repaired each year."

  "And who does that work?"

  "The men are chosen by lot and work one month of the year to repair the trail," she shrugged like it was obvious, and I guess from her point of view it was. Unpaid labour, everyone pitching in for the common good in a task they see as almost pointless and don't work at because they don't gain from it directly, and to show for it just a few miles of bad trail that you could barely lead a horse through. No wonder these people had nothing.

  "Why not build a road?"