The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

  Well, there is no arguing with the faith-holder. His mind is made up and closed to all argument and reason. I knew that, but had never seen it in practice before. His answer had not addressed my question. He believed and that was an end of it. I suspect that nothing that is believed is true. No one believes in rain or snow or fire; it is not needed because they are real. Anything which requires belief is clearly not real; if it were, belief would not be required.

  He was watching me, or so I guessed - his strange glass eyes made it difficult to tell. They held no iris or pupil, just a darkness at their core. They were seemingly clear glass magnifying the crimson flesh within the sockets, and I couldn't help wondering how they worked.

  "Here," he reached out a hand behind him, barely glancing that way as he picked up and then held out to me a slim folder. "A token of good faith. Proof of the value of my God's doctrine. An indication that I can be of value to you."

  I took the folder and opened it. "What is this? And what do you wish in return?"

  "Look and you will see that they are maps. I am not your enemy. I see that you love books and knowledge as much as I. You can hardly keep your attention on our conversation. Allow me to remain and continue my work here and I will be of use to you. I offer a bargain, one to your advantage, and mine. "

  I leafed through the pages within the folder as he spoke. Maps, he'd said, and maps they were, each the same but each different. The region around Darklake in each case, but each showing different information in finely coloured inks and with charts to clarify their meaning. Topography, rainfall, mineralogy; a wealth of information held in a few clearly defined pages. "I would have found these even if you were not here."

  "Doubtless, but not so soon. Knowledge is power; a lever with which to change reality; but information has its most apt moment of acquisition, does it not? Will they not be of more use to you now than later?"

  They would. I looked around the library, seeing the works that had been saved and the greater number that were decayed and yet to be restored. I succumbed to temptation. "You may not leave these rooms, for now."

  He indicated the doors, one at a time. "There are guards."

  "You may not preach your doctrine."

  "It is not necessary to me, though some take comfort in my message. Besides, I can hardly preach to those I do not see."

  "Did you aid Orlek against us?" If so, he should have been killed out of hand when Darklake was taken. But I faced the same problem with him as with the survivors of that conflict. They were our enemies and should have been dealt with as such then, when the action would have been subsumed in other events. Now such a punishment would seem arbitrary and create enmities anew in the minds of people I was trying to turn into allies.

  "He was my patron," he said, "and I owed him my loyalty; but now that he is dead I am without a patron and need another."

  I shook my head. That would be going too far entirely. "You may remain here and continue your work for now. Be satisfied with that."

  He leaned back in his chair, not having risen during the entire interview. "I am," he said simply, his gaze dropping back to the restoration work in progress on the table before him. "I am satisfied with that."

  #

  Back in the gardens, I hesitated on the threshold of the door now closed behind me, trying to assess the threat that the priest posed. A keen mind with its own objectives and motives, and power I hadn't the measure of. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a threat but I had no clear indication of what kind. Influence; he had influence and relationships with how many people? Anista, her children, Orlek's children. Others. But what he seemed to want was merely the acquisition of knowledge, and how could that be harmful? Especially as I wanted what he had, and all of it made legible only by his hand. So he stayed, for now. But I would not have him free to pursue any other ends than mine.

  "He doesn't leave his rooms, not for an instant, and no one is to be admitted to him, excepting only myself. Report to me the name of anyone who attempts to see him."

  I barely heard the acknowledgement of the order. I was looking out over the garden and the numerous children who played and talked there. Wondering how many of them Caliran had taught, and more importantly, wondering what he had taught them. What attitudes had they inherited from his teachings and how would it affect their actions? Not only the children, I realised, but the people here had also heard his message. Anista had already demanded his freedom. I'd need to talk to her again. And read the report on the fighting so that I could judge what part Caliran had played in it and judge his abilities.

  I realized I was still standing there, a folder of maps in one hand and a random scroll under one arm. I'd not been able to resist taking something to read. Caliran had played me; but did he know that I knew it? Probably not.

  I blew out a breath and started walking, turning my mind to other matters. Was there anything I needed to do right now? There would always be things that needed doing until I was done with all of them. Many could wait, some had been scheduled. What was left? I had to write a report, a letter to my uncle and the army to the south. I'd borrowed his men and needed to formalize an agreement for their use. And I needed to let the events of the day settle in my mind, lest I miss something important.

  I headed back to my rooms. I would write to my uncle, and to my father. Then I would rest and think and plan for tomorrow. I needed to decide on areas of responsibility for the magistrates I'd appointed and standardize a reporting system so that I could keep an eye on what they were doing in my name. And hire people to maintain the household here so that I could get a bath when I wanted one. And hire a replacement for Meran as my valet. And decide about Dannat's family and the other hostages in my care. I'd see them before the day was done, I decided. Find out at least who they were, and write letters to their families that they were safe and in my care. Have their families send representatives here to agree to terms for their release. There were a hundred things to do and it still seemed that there was only me to do them.

  But one thing at a time, I reminded myself, one thing at a time.

  #

  "It isn't possible," Meran said.

  He'd found me alone in my office, writing letters, and immediately broached the issue of moving the soldiers out of the hall.

  I leaned back from the table and stretched out stressed shoulders. "You're right," I told him. "But get it done as quickly as you can. I meant what I said; the military and civil centres should be separated. Has Treleth contacted you yet?""

  "Lendrin Treleth sent a messenger, asking where I wanted the wood, yes. There are carpenters among the men, but even so it will take days to get the job done. The centurions recommend a stone wall, extending the gate, essentially making a keep out of it. You approve?"

  I nodded. I'd seen the stakes and strings marking the area when I had walked out to the trading post. "It'll strengthen the defences. Do it that way. Anything else?"

  "I've called a halt to the hiring for today; at this rate it will take ten or twelve days to see everyone and everyone will want to be seen."

  "Use more people tomorrow. The magistrates should have the idea by now, assuming they have been paying attention. Let them be seen to be figures of authority. And it will keep them occupied while I figure out what regular duties I'm going to permit them. I'll pull them off in a couple of days, one at a time."

  He nodded agreement. "I've hired some people, mostly from Learneth, to take care of things here. Anista is up in arms about it."

  I found myself smiling. Anista aired her views with gusto. "I heard."

  He inclined his head and glanced at the throne. "At least she can't lurk in that anymore."

  "But she will be waiting to harangue you further on the matter."

  He shrugged. "This was her household. She was the keeper of the keys and had full authority over everything that happened here."

  I nodded, thinking about it. "Well, I'd better give her back what she needs to make her happy, then." I
raised one eyebrow at his frown. "What?"

  "Including the kitchens? You will be eating here, I take it?"

  I nodded. "That's my intent. You think she might try and poison me? I don't. But I'd intended to keep Balaran here with me if that will put your mind at rest. Do you think you can take control of Hederan without him?"

  He hesitated. "He is the only battle mage we have. I could probably do it, but if there is resistance there will be losses, and I assume you want the town taken intact?"

  I nodded. "A complete surrender will best serve my ends, yes. I think they will be ready for it. The last time Balaran passed there he made a dramatic statement. Take him and one century, a healer will serve my purposes well enough. Also, get the cattle out of here, we can't feed them. When you have Hederan to heel, buy provisions of grain and herds from them and head north through the Necromancers’ lands - Balaran knows the territory - and let them know they have had a change of administration that will improve their situation. Then check up on the Grave and leave a permanent watch there. What?"

  He was looking dubious. "I'll need more men."

  I thought it through. He was right. "There must be suits of armour that can be filled. Set the centurions to raising troops; say two hundred. Leave the centurion's second and twenty men plus one hundred of the auxiliaries in charge of Hederan. Good enough?”

  He nodded. "I think so. It'll be a couple of days before I can head out."

  I'd wanted him to move sooner but recognised that he was right. "Get moving on it, then."

  He unhooked a bunch of keys from his belt and dropped them on the desk. "You'll want to give these to Anista yourself."

  "Not all of them. Take off the key to the treasury. I'll give that responsibility to another of the magistrates, later. Did none of the magistrates of Learneth survive?"

  He shrugged. "Not that has made himself known; I believe I would have heard by now. Men used to authority are seldom shy."

  "There might yet be one. He left Learneth before it burned." I'd been avoiding thinking about it. Just as I had been avoiding thinking about my clients, probably all now dead, and their families, some of whom may have survived. "Have any of the people of Learneth made claim to be clients of mine?"

  He hesitated, his expression appraising. "You asked me that last night. There are seven women, some with children. I had them brought into the hall, as you said, and pressed Anista to find them quarters. You said..."

  I held up one hand to stop him from reminding me further. "I remember." I had forgotten, but now it came back to me. Just seven women and some children. That's all who had survived of the scores who had looked to me, who had put their lives and futures into my hands. I hadn't done well by them and I didn't want to face them yet. "Is there anything else? No? Then send Anista in here."

  He was barely out of the room before Anista was standing before me, hands on hips and glaring at me and the keys in front of me in turn. "Those are mine."

  I stirred the keys on the table, taking the key to the treasury and putting it to one side. I'd decide who would be responsible for that later.

  "They are," I said, pushing them across the table and leaning back once more. I really wanted to get the letters written and out of the way. I briefly chided myself for not bearding Meran for not yet finding me a scribe while I'd had the chance. I'd write the letters myself, but there would be too much of that for me to enjoy the task.

  She frowned as she sorted through the keys, alternately glancing at me, her expression appraising. "Some are missing."

  "I know," though I didn't know which or fully know why, apart from the treasury key that I'd set aside. I'd ask later but wasn't that interested. "You will have other duties to occupy you aside from the running of the hall. Treleth will be delivering a full set of weights and measures; someone has to be responsible for them."

  She frowned, looking almost offended. I almost sighed, but managed to hold it in check.

  "It's important that when goods are sold they are measured honestly and by the same system to avoid skimming, to avoid people being cheated by short measures. Someone has to adjudicate and have control of a standard set of approved measures to do so. There will be traders who bring their own sets of scales and weights, some will be crooks. They need to be identified and fined appropriately."

  I could see the light dawning in her eyes and decided to leave off further explanation. It could wait. There would be no markets for a while, after all. "And someone has to organise public entertainments."

  "There are holy days of Hesta..."

  I nodded. "Use those if you like, feasts, games, whatever. The market traders need to pay for a pitch, players likewise. I want to ride out to Duprane's Keep tomorrow. I'd appreciate it if you would accompany me," I tried to be as off-hand as possible.

  She was thrown by the change of topic. "Why?"

  "You know where it is?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "And you can ride?"

  "Of course, but..."

  "Good. I need a guide and it'll give me time to explain the practical aspects of your new responsibilities. Agreed?"

  She dropped her gaze to the keys, leafing through them. I thought I detected a faint blush, but I wasn't sure of it. "And the hall is mine again?" She asked.

  "Pretty much, though Meran has hired some people; they stay. And I'd appreciate it if you discussed any major changes you have in mind with me first."

  She considered it for a moment, then gave a small nod. "My brother will be released?"

  "That's another matter. He has a decision to make first, but either way he will be freed. I want him to decide before I release him, and if he is the man I think he is, to first influence the rest to choose as I think and hope he will."

  She gave another nod, accepting what I said. "The main meal of the day is served at dusk," she glanced up at me, gaze racking over me once before she turned to walk away. "You will need a man-servant. I'll see to it."

  "And a scribe," I called after her as I bent once more over the smudged pages in front of me.

  "You drink too much," she said, closing the door firmly behind her.

  "Define 'too much,'" I muttered to myself, once more deep in thought over what exactly I wanted to say to the assembly of patrons. Piss off and mind your own business sprang to mind, but I didn't think it would be well received.

  #shasqa

  "This way, Patron."

  It was the third time Renik, the fussy old man who was now my man-servant, had used the phrase since bringing me fresh clothing and pointedly informing me that there were baths adjoining the hall. I'd noticed steam earlier in the day, and steam meant hot water. I'd assumed a laundry but had been both relieved and glad to learn that there was also a bath room.

  Now I was hesitating in the corridor, thinking things through. We had passed the kitchens, which were busy and spread outside into the passage near the communal ovens. I'd glanced in as we passed and caught a glimpse of Anista supervising the head cook. There were servants to the soldiers in the kitchens also, but there seemed to be no friction, which I was glad of. I hadn't issued any orders and no one had come to me with a problem; they had just sorted it out between them and I left them to it. Next came the laundry room, the door also open, but the room cool and empty at this time of day. Just a few yards further down the corridor there was another doorway, from which came a great deal of noise, sounds that were strongly indicative of the kind of household Orlek had kept; one that indulged in fun. The squeals and laughter coming from the bath room were the kind made by both men and women when indulging in play.

  "Patron?" Renik had turned back to see what was keeping me.

  I was still thinking. "Tell me, Renik," I asked as he belatedly shuffled back to stand before me, "you are a man of Darklake, yes?" He wasn't the only old man I had seen kicking around the place, not deemed a threat and so free to roam within the hall, just as the women and children had been. It seemed reasonable to assume Anista would assign such a one to lo
ok after me; someone loyal to her, used to taking her orders. It was an obvious move on her part, and expected.

  "Yes, master."

  I let his mode of address pass, revealing though it was. "Tell me, how many of the women who live here were Orlek's playmates?"

  He searched my face, trying to calculate what answer I wanted and also trying to look as though he were doing nothing of the sort. "Some few, perhaps," he stammered at last, looking away as though searching his memory.

  "Apart from the hostages, how many women are there in the hall?"

  He shook his head vaguely, raising his shoulders. "I confess I have never counted them. Perhaps twenty or so...servants and so on?" He glanced up at my face to see if I agreed with him.

  "Right. Let me put it this way, Renik. And I would appreciate your honesty should you choose to give it. If I wanted a woman to share my bed, how many would be available to me?"

  "Oh, all of them, master, most assuredly all of them."

  "A number, Renik. On your life, give me a number!"

  "Thirty-two, master."

  "Good." Not the right word. "How many illegitimate children of Orlek are here?"

  "Nineteen, master."

  "And how many legitimate children are here?"

  "One, master."

  So. That clarified a couple of things for me. "Stop trembling. Bring hot water to my rooms."

  "Master?"

  "Patron, Renik. The correct form of address is patron. Bring hot water to my rooms. If you have difficulty, commandeer any help you need."

  When I passed the kitchens on the way back to my quarters, I wasn't very surprised to glimpse Anista close to the open doorway. She'd been listening. Wanting to know what I would do. Well, I hadn't quite decided myself what to do, but joining the fun wasn't an option. And that, I guessed, was what she wanted to know.