“No, it is not,” Allutar said. “I am to use whatever means I find at my discretion to be sure that each male head of household shall have the opportunity to cast a vote, but what means those might be, or how the candidates are to be chosen, is not mentioned.” He smiled. “Perhaps this is not as pleasant for Lord Valin as I first thought; it would appear to me to be within my authority to choose the candidates for whom the people will be permitted to vote.”
“Naturally, that would occur to you,” Valin said, looking up from the letter.
“I believe I am generally cognizant of how best to defend my own interests, yes.”
“And you see nothing reprehensible about asserting your own authority regardless of the cost to others, do you?”
“Lord Valin, my own interests are likewise the interests of all Aulix, and indeed of all Walasia. I would much prefer to be landgrave of a prosperous and happy province, rather than lording over a cowed and starving populace. I think it better to live in an empire that is flourishing than one in decline. I take no pleasure in the suffering of others; on the contrary, it pains me to observe it, and so I act to prevent it where possible. If this sometimes means that I must harm an individual for the good of the community, I do so, much as I would choose to suffer the pain of extracting a splinter over the possibility of infection. What is reprehensible in that?”
“You see nothing wrong in refusing others the freedom to speak for themselves?”
“When they would speak foolishly and to their own detriment? Indeed, I do not.”
“You will not allow the commoners to choose their own representatives freely?”
“What do commoners know of governance? They would vote for the well-spoken over the truly wise, I would think.”
“You are not so easily fooled, then?”
“I like to think I am not, my lord.”
Anrel listened to this brisk exchange with something not unlike despair. He was quite certain that neither commoners nor sorcerers had any monopoly on wisdom, nor even a sufficiency of that particular virtue, and in specific he was convinced that very few men of any station possessed the wisdom to recognize wisdom in others. These two magicians were arguing over whether the blind or the smitten were more suited to objectively judging the beauty of women.
“You are so certain of your own virtue, then?” Valin demanded.
“I am certain that the emperor saw fit to confirm me in my position as landgrave of Aulix, and that it is both my responsibility and my privilege to govern the province as I judge best. Whether that is how the commoners would judge best does not trouble me; let their grandchildren say whether I governed poorly or well, when time has shown the consequences of my actions.”
“Time, my lord, will undoubtedly show that you lacked the imagination to help guide the empire into a new era of equality, liberty, and glory. Don’t you see that if the commoners are given a voice, they will be inspired to greater things? They have hearts and minds that could be put to the service of the empire, but because they have no magic we tell them, no, you are nothing, you are the dirt beneath our heels, to be trodden upon as we please, and you can never be anything more. If we allowed them the opportunity to rise above their present station, we would in all probability encourage them to heights we cannot now imagine!”
“I hardly think that commoners are so disheartened as you seem to believe, Lord Valin. Have you ever seen the homes of the great merchants and bankers in Lume? They are flourishing without being permitted any voice in government.”
“But they could do so much more!”
Allutar spread his hands. “Have you the slightest shred of evidence to support this claim? If a commoner has it in him to create some magnificent enterprise, then what would stop him from creating it?”
“The fear that he might be seen as a threat, and be called a criminal, perhaps accused of trespassing or theft with no witness but the man who has the power to decide his guilt and order him executed.”
“Valin!” Anrel said warningly.
Allutar did not reply; he stared balefully at Valin for a moment, then snatched the paper from his hands and turned away. “You have delivered the emperor’s letter,” he said. “Hollem will see you out.”
Valin started to protest, but Anrel held him back as Allutar strode out of the room and slammed the door behind himself.
“Valin,” Anrel said, “you came near to accusing the landgrave of perjury and murder.”
“Did I?” Valin spat on the floor. “And what if he is a perjurer and murderer? Should I say nothing?”
“You have no evidence to support such a claim.” He glanced at the closed door. “I like Lord Allutar no more than you do, but he has all the law and custom on his side, and you have no evidence that he has done anything outside his authority.”
“I do not acknowledge his authority to kill a man for no reason.”
“He had a reason, Valin. He had two—Urunar Kazien was a thief, and Lord Allutar needed a sacrifice for his spell. Either one would suffice under the law. I do not even mention other crimes of which Master Kazien was accused, but which were never proven to the landgrave’s satisfaction.”
“I do not see those reasons as even remotely sufficient,” Valin proclaimed defiantly.
“All the emperors, from the first through the current incumbent, would disagree with you, my lord. Landgraves have the power of life and death over the commoners in their provinces.”
“That does not make it right, Anrel.”
Anrel sighed. “I might find it easier to support you in this had Master Kazien been a better person—”
He might have said more, but the door opened and the footman reappeared. “This way, please,” he said.
The two visitors followed him silently back to the front door; they had both stepped outside when the footman leaned over and said, “A moment, Master Murau.”
Valin turned, curious.
“A personal matter, sir,” the footman said. “Could I see you inside, for just a moment?”
Anrel hesitated, and glanced at Valin.
“Just you, sir,” the footman said. “I’m afraid Lord Allutar has made it plain that Lord Valin is not welcome in this house.”
“Shall I wait for you?” Valin asked.
“No,” Anrel said. “Go on without me. I’ll be along shortly.”
Valin nodded, and walked away. For a second or two Anrel watched him go; then he shrugged and followed the footman back inside.
Lord Allutar was waiting in the foyer.
“My lord,” Anrel said, unsurprised. He bowed.
“Master Murau,” Allutar replied.
“I take it, my lord, that it was you, rather than the estimable Hollem, who wished a word with me in private?”
“Indeed.” Allutar frowned. “I remember you as a boy, Master Murau, and I did not think much of you then, but it seems to me you have grown up considerably during your four years in Lume. Your uncle has told me that your professors spoke well of you in their letters reporting your progress, and your academic performance was, by all accounts, excellent. You seem to me to have become a young man of considerable sense—unlike your friend.”
“You flatter me, my lord.”
“False modesty does not become you, Master Murau.”
“Then I will merely thank you for the observation, my lord. I hope you’re right.”
“I hope so, as well. Right or wrong, that assessment is why I choose to give you this warning, rather than addressing it directly to Lord Valin. I believe he would take it as a challenge, whereas you may see that it is nothing of the sort.”
“Warning, my lord?”
“To date, I have restrained myself for several reasons—a general desire to avoid strife, my respect for your uncle, and to avoid displeasing your cousin, to name three. I am telling you now, though, that your friend Lord Valin has pushed me to the limits of my toleration. You heard him a few minutes ago, when he all but called me a liar to my face.”
&n
bsp; “I did,” Anrel admitted.
“He is obsessed with this Urunar Kazien. He doubts his guilt—but he has not even asked about the facts of the case. Lord Valin’s claim that there were no witnesses is baseless and offensive. I do not deign to explain myself to him, but perhaps you might explain to him that he is in error. It was not I who caught Master Kazien stealing herbs from my garden; it was my gardener, Guldim li-Forsha. An examination of the Kazien family bakery discovered a large cache of my herbs—it seems Darith Kazien has been using them in his herb bread for some time. I could have had the entire family put to death; I did not. Nor was this the first complaint against Urunar Kazien; he has previously been accused more than once of grievous assault, but there was insufficient evidence in every prior instance. I may be a tyrant, sir, but I am not an arbitrary tyrant, nor am I merciless. I would thank you to convey this to your companion.”
“I will try, my lord.”
“I trust you will succeed, Master Murau, because I warn you now that despite my love for Lord Dorias, and my hopes for Lady Saria, I will not tolerate any further insolence from your uncle’s erstwhile apprentice. If he troubles me further, there will be dire consequences.”
Anrel hesitated.
“Is there something you would say, Master Murau?”
“My lord,” Anrel said, “even if Val—Lord Valin abandons the case of the late Urunar Kazien, you and he have many other disagreements, as well. From your comment a few moments ago I take it you are aware that he has become a radical populist, and holds forth on politics in the taverns and squares of Naith in much the same fashion he spoke to you today. I think it possible he will come to your attention further on this account, and I hope you will not consider this to be intended to disturb you, in particular.”
“His intention is not at issue, Master Murau. I can forgive a certain amount of youthful idealism, but there are very definite limits to that amount, especially in times as uncertain as these.”
“I am sure it is indeed just youthful folly, my lord, and that nothing will come of it.”
“See that it does not, Master Murau.”
“I will do my best to restrain him, my lord.”
“I have quite enough to concern me as it is, Master Murau—crop failures in the Raish Valley, this Grand Council that will most probably require an extended stay in Lume, petty crime in a dozen villages, and crimes more than petty in the streets of Naith. I am not looking for ways to busy myself at your friend’s expense, but neither am I oversupplied with patience at present. Do I make myself clear?”
“You do, my lord, and I thank you for the warning.”
“Do your best to make him heed it.”
“I will do what I can, my lord, but Lord Valin has his own mind.”
“I will not hold you personally to account should my warnings be ignored; you need not trouble yourself about that. It is only Lord Valin who is at risk, so far.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“That will be all, then.” He turned away.
“Thank you,” Anrel said again, as Hollem opened the door to usher him out.
And then he was standing in the portico as the door closed in his face.
He shuddered, and turned to hurry after Valin.
10
In Which Lord Dorias Makes His Selection
Lord Dorias read the emperor’s letter slowly and carefully, seeming to pause over every word. Valin waited patiently, leaning against the door frame, while his guardian absorbed the missive; Anrel, having delivered his burden, settled into a velvet-upholstered armchair and let his chin sink to his breast as he tried to think how best to prevent a disastrous confrontation between Valin and Allutar.
“So I am to choose a delegate to the Grand Council?” Lord Dorias said, looking up from the paper at last.
“Uncle, we have not read the letter,” Anrel said. “We cannot tell you what it means.”
“Then take it and read it!” Dorias snapped, thrusting the letter into Anrel’s face.
Anrel’s head jerked up, and he snatched the paper before Valin could reach for it. He clutched it in both hands and read it carefully.
“Whereas our Ministers have brought to Our Attention,” it read, “that Certain Elements have taken Advantage of Our Generosity in allowing the Citizens of the Empire to select their Representatives as they might see fit, and created Strife amongst the Populace regarding the Exact Methods to be employed, THEREFORE do We hereby set forth THE METHOD whereby All Representatives to the Grand Council shall be Selected.
“FIRSTLY, each Landgrave of All Our several Provinces shall designate One Person, of Whatever Rank He shall see fit, to represent the Province; this Individual to be chosen purely at the discretion of the LANDGRAVE, without Restriction;
“SECONDLY, each Burgrave of All Our several Municipalities shall designate One Person, of Whatever Rank He shall see fit, to represent that Municipality; this Individual to be chosen purely at the discretion of the BURGRAVE, without Restriction;
“THIRDLY, each Margrave who guards Our Borders shall designate One Person, of Whatever Rank He shall see fit, to represent Himself and those Persons under His Protection and under His Command; this Individual to be chosen purely at the discretion of the MARGRAVE, without Restriction;
“FOURTHLY and FINALLY, the common people of each Province shall choose by the Vote of every Male Head of Household, under the Supervision of the Landgrave of that Province and His Designees, Representatives equal in number to the Total of the Landgrave and All the Burgraves and Margraves of that Province, these Representatives to be of COMMON RANK, viz., possessing no Title of Nobility, nor Talent for Sorcery, nor Government Office. Let no Person interfere with the proper Conduct of this Election; We reserve the Right to weigh any Penalty, up to and including Death, upon any who shall impede the proper Selection of these Representatives.
“Thus shall One-Half of the GRAND COUNCIL consist of Representatives chosen by Sorcerers, and One-Half of the GRAND COUNCIL consist of Representatives chosen by the Common People under the Administration of the Landgraves, to reflect the Diversity of Our Empire.
“All those Representatives thus chosen shall present themselves at the Imperial Offices in Lume, to assume their Duties, no later than Sunset upon the Winter Solstice in this Year.
“By Our Command, and with Our Seal, upon this Eighty-Sixth Day of Summer in the Twenty-Third Year of Our Reign.”
Below that was the emperor’s seal, but no actual signature; Anrel supposed some secretary had been given the task of writing these out. Sixteen provinces, eleven margravates, and the Father alone knew how many municipalities—no one would expect the emperor himself to waste time signing so many letters.
“It seems clear,” Anrel remarked. He had certainly read far more opaque documents in the course of his education.
“Then explain it to me!” Dorias said. “Give me something for my five thousand guilders!”
“It is as you thought,” he said. “You are to name a representative to the Grand Council, and you are forbidden to interfere in the election of the commoners who will serve on the council.”
“I’m forbidden to interfere? I am not required to do anything in this election?”
“Indeed not,” Anrel said, folding up the letter. “That is quite explicitly left to the landgrave and the commoners. Your only role is the selection of your own delegate, who will represent Alzur.”
“I don’t want to choose a delegate, though! I had every intention of leaving the entire matter to Lord Allutar.”
“Uncle Dorias, please don’t let this trouble you,” Anrel said. “You need merely name someone, anyone, to go to Lume and sit on the council.”
“But how am I to choose? I know nothing of statecraft!”
Anrel shrugged. “Few men do, including many who would practice the trade. Honestly, Uncle, I do not think the representative of Alzur will be called upon to do much; for that matter, I have serious doubts about whether the Grand Council as a
whole will accomplish much. Send anyone who will not embarrass you.”
“Such as yourself, perhaps?”
Anrel paled. “Father and Mother, Uncle, no! I have just come back from Lume; I have no desire to return there. And I have been four years away from Alzur; how could I represent the town’s concerns adequately?”
“I would be willing,” Valin said.
Dorias turned to see that Valin had straightened, removing himself from the door frame. He stood erect, eyes bright.
“I know Alzur well,” Valin said. “I have lived here half my life, after all. And they will expect you to send a sorcerer—with half the council made up of commoners, I think every noble will name a sorcerer as his delegate, and it would seem odd were you to do otherwise. What other sorcerer could you choose?”
Dorias hesitated.
“I have little to keep me here,” Valin continued. “You have made it clear—oh, only most subtly and politely, but clear!—that you are displeased I have found no appropriate employment, and I, too, chafe at my enforced idleness; here, then, is a way to put me to work. More, I have spoken at length with scholars and others in Naith regarding the issues the Grand Council will address; you could find no one better prepared than I. Further, you know that I have little love for Lord Allutar, and I believe Lady Saria has hopes that he will be spending more time under this roof in the future; would it not be more pleasant for all concerned if I am gainfully occupied elsewhere? And finally, Magister, I would enjoy an opportunity to see the capital and its wonders for more than the few days I have been able to visit there.”
Anrel sat and stared at his stunned uncle, trying to decide whether he should say anything. All Valin’s reasons were true—in fact, Anrel was startled at Valin’s honesty in presenting them all so openly. But there were strong reasons that Valin should not be named to the council, as well, beginning with Anrel’s conviction that his friend, much as he loved him, was an idealistic fool.
As for avoiding Lord Allutar, the landgrave had clearly implied that he would be choosing himself as his delegate. Putting Valin and Allutar in the same deliberative body would not be conducive to any sort of peaceful negotiation, especially in light of Lord Allutar’s warning, given little more than an hour earlier.
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