Servant of the Crown (The Crown of Tremontane Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  “This is all related to the telecoder,” she said.

  Anthony looked at a few others. “The post service. Something about the message runners. This is insane.”

  “At least you know Zara was right about the need for a new department,” Alison said.

  Anthony began clearing his desk. “Let’s just put these in the corner for now. I can’t imagine there’s anything here that won’t wait. This upcoming vote is far more important.”

  Alison helped him move piles of paper until the desktop was visible. Anthony pulled his chair around to Alison’s side of the desk, then rooted around in it until he found paper and pen. “I never thought I’d be so happy about self-inking pens,” he said wryly, and began sketching. “Here’s how the Council alignment breaks down. Zara’s obviously voting against the endowment, and so are we. Mistress Unwin—good heaven,” he said, laying down the pen and putting his head in his hands, “she and I are equals now. I’m never going to get used to that.”

  “We’re equals with Lestrange too,” Alison pointed out.

  “That’s different. I consider him my inferior in every possible way.” Alison grinned at that. “Anyway. Mistress Unwin is against the endowment. Then Lestrange, Forsyte in Agriculture, the Countess of Cullinan and the Baron of Highton are all pro-endowment. The rest are unknown.”

  “I thought there was one other on Zara’s side.”

  “Albert Fisher in Transportation. He and Zara have been friends for years, and until recently she believed he would support her, but now he seems uncertain. I don’t know what hold the Magistrix might have over him, but Zara’s doing her best to court him. The others are Godwinson in Internal Affairs, Delarue in Foreign Relations, Anselm in Defense, and the Countess of Harroden.” He scribbled more names. “The meeting tomorrow is supposed to be for considering the Magistrix’s latest proposal, but really it’s for convincing these five to choose a side. And for the rest of them to intimidate you and me. I don’t care what Zara says, no one’s going to believe we were chosen impartially.”

  “We weren’t, really. So what am I supposed to do?”

  “Listen, mostly. See if you can work out who supports whom. Answer questions relating to your department but don’t get drawn into an argument, especially with Lestrange or Cullinan.”

  “I’m starting to feel nervous.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve never known anyone less likely to be intimidated than you.”

  His voice sounded strange all of a sudden, and Alison turned away from the paper to look at him. He was tapping the pen on the paper, leaving tiny dots. It occurred to her that he hadn’t been stiff or distant at all since they’d left Zara’s office. Neither had he been his old carefree laughing self. He really has changed, she thought, and at that moment, he turned his head and she was caught full force by the blue-eyed North gaze. He said nothing, merely looked at her as if he expected her to ask a question, but she was breathless, caught in a memory of him saying You walk like you’re about to take on the whole damn world at once and the feel of his lips on hers, and she stammered out, at random, “Does the Magistrix have anything she can bring to bear on those five?”

  “Good question,” he said, looking away again. “Robert Anselm in Defense would lose a lot if the Masters pulled out of the armed forces. Monica Delarue votes based on some rationale no one’s ever been able to figure out. She might see the Scholia’s independence as an opportunity to treat them as a foreign country, which would give her more power. Belladry Chadwick of Harroden has sided with Zara often before, but she’s fair-minded enough not to be influenced by the past, so it’s impossible to say which way she’ll jump. Godwinson ought to vote against the endowment because of the turmoil it would cast Internal Affairs into, but he might see giving in to the Magistrix as a way of maintaining internal harmony. And Albert…I just don’t know.”

  “Can I take this with me? To study?”

  “Go ahead. And I’ll have recommendations for your department aides by the end of the week.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  “This is just me shutting up and being gracious. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Alison walked slowly back to the Library, clutching her paper with both hands. He’d changed more than she thought. She knew Anthony was intelligent, but she never would have guessed he was capable of all this…capability. And where had the reserve gone, the stiff statue’s mask? It seemed he no longer felt awkward around her. She tried to summon up outrage, or even annoyance, at his presumption—how dare he forget his guilt?—but found only weariness at holding on so tightly to her anger. Polite indifference was so much easier. They were associates at the theater and now, it seemed, they would be colleagues on the Council; she couldn’t afford to alienate herself from him. She could work with him without caring about him. She—

  —he was looking at her, so intent, saying You forgive me, right? For thinking only of myself and not of your feelings?

  —and humiliation and fury filled her, bringing her up short in the empty Library hallway with her eyes closed, angry tears leaking from them. I can work with him, I can be polite to him, but I can never forgive him, she thought. And I will never forget.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What we seem determined to avoid,” Clara Unwin said, “is the plain fact that this country cannot afford to give the Scholia the kind of endowment they’re asking for.” Her voice sounded strained, as if, Alison thought, she’d made this argument a hundred times before.

  “What we can afford has always been an issue of the sacrifices we’re willing to make,” said Roger Lestrange, whose voice by contrast was smooth. “Giving the Scholia more autonomy means more and better-educated Masters, who then serve vital roles throughout Tremontane.”

  “Then why aren’t those Masters contributing to the operation of their alma mater?” asked Belladry Chadwick, Countess of Harroden. “They’re certainly successful enough.”

  “But not in a position to provide as generously as the Crown could,” Lestrange said.

  “And not as regularly,” said Albert Fisher. Alison watched him closely. He was supposed to be Zara’s old friend, but he seemed partial to the Scholia’s argument. Though she had to admit when it came to government, friendship probably shouldn’t be the primary reason for making decisions.

  “It’s a one-time payment as opposed to the annual outlay we already have,” said Lestrange.

  “‘Payment’ being the operative word. It sounds to me like extortion,” said Unwin.

  “That’s a dangerous accusation to make,” said Lestrange.

  “What else can you call it, when Margaret Bindle has hinted at repercussions should we not comply?”

  “The Magistrix has only pointed out what we’ve already seen. Many of the Masters have come to see the endowment as a symbol of Tremontane’s trust in the Scholia and its graduates. Our continuing refusal to fully fund the Scholia may result in their choosing to find employment elsewhere.”

  “And you think the Magisters haven’t encouraged that line of thinking?” Anthony said.

  “I think some of us,” Lestrange said, deliberately not looking at Unwin, “have been thinking of the Scholia as our enemy rather than our ally. The Magistrix is as concerned about the future of Tremontane as any of us.”

  “And it’s precisely that thinking that has put us in this position,” said Matthew Godwinson, head of Internal Affairs and one of those councilors Anthony had said was wavering. “This issue with the Scholia has spread beyond this room to affect the citizens. They respect the Scholia and dislike the conflict that’s arisen.”

  “Is there a general feeling the government should support the Scholia?” Alison asked.

  The other councilors seemed surprised she’d spoken. “Ah…I believe public opinion is divided,” Godwinson said.

  “Then you might as well say half the people harbor some resentment toward the Scholia. Shouldn’t we consider why that is?”

  “It�
�s our responsibility to make the best decisions for the people,” said Lestrange, smiling at Alison indulgently. “They lack the broader understanding that would allow them to see the whole picture.”

  “And yet it is the people who attend the Scholia, or not, and from whom new Masters arise. Their attitude toward the Scholia must surely influence our decision. Why fund an institution many people choose not to attend because of its policies?”

  “The Countess makes a good point,” Anthony said. “As much as we respect the Scholia, we shouldn’t choose to fund it simply because of tradition.”

  Lestrange ignored him. “Countess, I’m certain you mean well, but I believe your current disagreement with the Scholia has influenced your attitude toward it.”

  “As I’m certain your position as Master has influenced yours,” she shot back, for the moment forgetting Anthony’s advice about not being drawn into an argument with Lestrange. “Would it not be better to say each of us has a perspective developed from our experiences? I attended the Scholia for four years and I have never regretted it. I respect the education I gained there. I simply don’t believe Tremontane is served well by changing our current funding policy.”

  “If you were a Master, you would know much of the Magisters’ time is spent on budget concerns,” Lestrange said, losing the indulgent smile. “The irregularities of the Crown’s current funding combined with our growing operational costs mean reorganizing Scholia spending drastically each year. This means the Magisters waste time on bureaucracy that keeps them out of the classroom where they belong.”

  You said “our.” I think you just made a mistake, Lestrange. “Every business faces the same challenges. Income can vary dramatically from year to year, forcing changes in resource allocation. Should the Scholia be treated differently simply because its output is intangible?”

  “As enlightening as this exchange is, Roger, Alison, I believe we need to return to the main question,” said Zara. “Clara has made the point that we cannot afford this endowment. Roger says we can’t afford not to fund the endowment. Let us suppose we take Roger’s view, which would require cutting funds to other departments. Can anyone suggest areas in which funding may be reduced?”

  Alison leaned back in her seat. She glanced at Anthony. He had his hand over his mouth, but his eyes were gleaming with humor. She looked away before she could start to laugh. Not ten minutes into her first Council meeting and already she’d been drawn into an argument. Good thing Zara had intervened when she did, because she was pretty sure Lestrange’s next statement would have been about the impossibility of putting a price on the human mind, and that would have derailed the meeting entirely.

  The councilors were mostly silent now. None of them wanted to suggest cutting their own budget, which was probably Zara’s intent. Force them to face up to the reality of the endowment, and maybe they’d see sense. Alison watched faces. She still didn’t know enough about her fellow councilors to tell how they felt, even the ones she knew were in the Scholia’s pocket (aside from Lestrange, of course), but she had a feeling Albert Fisher was still on Zara’s side. Why he might be playing the fence-sitter she didn’t know, but although he hadn’t said much, he watched Zara closely and she was certain she’d seen Zara glance at him. Of course, she could be wrong, and their exchanges might be wary instead, but she still had an instinct that Fisher’s seeming uncertainty was part of a deeper game.

  People began offering half-hearted suggestions for budget cuts, always in someone else’s department. Zara listened to this for a while, then said, “Thank you all for your insights. In just over a week, the Magistrix will make her formal proposal to this Council, after which we will make a decision. In the meantime, I suggest you continue to discuss and consider the matter privately. Good day.”

  The councilors began to file out in silence. Alison was about to follow when she saw Zara make a tiny gesture for her to remain behind. Unwin exchanged a meaningful nod with the Queen, then left as well. When they were all gone, Anthony shut the door behind them and took a seat at the Queen’s right hand. Zara leaned back in her sort-of throne and shook her head in despair. “Didn’t you explain to her about not getting into an argument with Lestrange?” she asked Anthony.

  Anthony grinned. “She sort of won,” he said.

  “Only because I intervened. Alison, sit down and stop hovering. Lestrange is a dangerous opponent. He would have turned your words against you eventually.”

  Alison sank into a seat and covered her eyes with her hand. “He made me angry,” she said, a statement rather than an excuse.

  “A specialty of his. Never mind. Between the two of us we managed to make some important points that I do not think were lost on my councilors. Monica in particular seemed to be listening carefully, though I hesitate to mark her for our side because she’s so unpredictable.”

  “Is Albert Fisher on your side?” Alison asked tentatively.

  Zara’s gaze sharpened. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “I hope no one else shares that feeling. Yes, Albert is on my side. He’s my mole. And I thought he was doing a good job of concealing that. Albert tells me Matthew has decided to vote for the Scholia. Matthew’s concerned about internal unrest and has decided maintaining the status quo will only inflame matters. He’s usually so conservative that I think the Magisters have gotten to him somehow. Oh, well. With my vote, that still puts us ahead by one, and we still have seven days to sway some of the others.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve lost Robert Anselm,” Anthony said. “He’s worried about the effect on the armed forces if his Masters pull out.”

  “I’m handling Robert,” said Zara. “You worry about getting your department into shape. Alison…don’t let them get to you. Now, shoo. I have work to do.”

  Alison and Anthony exchanged glances. In the hallway, Anthony said, “She’s not as confident as she sounds.”

  “Would it really be so bad if the Scholia got its way? I mean financially. Obviously it’s bad in every other conceivable way.”

  “It would be bad. Mistress Unwin is already looking at options for shoring up the Treasury in the event of the funding going through. Robert ought to be more worried at the budget cuts the military will almost certainly endure. I don’t know why he’s not thinking that way. It’s peacetime; he’s already under pressure to reduce the armed forces. Well, maybe I’m wrong about Robert. I hope I’m wrong about Robert.”

  “I’m sorry I got into an argument with Lestrange after you told me not to,” Alison said.

  Anthony smiled. “I thought I was going to burst out laughing,” he said.

  “I saw. Was it really that amusing?”

  “Nobody stands up to Lestrange. They’ve all been bested by him in verbal combat before. Half the councilors were cringing at your inevitable defeat. The other half were cheering you on. I almost wish Zara had let it go on a little longer.”

  “It was just as well she didn’t. He would have started trouncing me in about a minute.”

  “But it would have been an outstanding minute. Where’s your looming guard?” Alison pointed down the hall. “Then I’ll escort you to her and hand you off. And remember, if you have any questions about your Council responsibilities, you can ask me anything.”

  “Thank you.” You see? she told her snarky inner voice. I can be polite. I can be indifferent. She refused to think about how angry it made her that he was indifferent too.

  “We really ought to be working,” Alison said. “I have—”

  Henry’s lips on hers cut off whatever she’d been about to say. “Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes,” he murmured.

  She gave in to his kisses. He was such a comfort to her, and not just because of stolen moments in the Library like this one, his hands tangled in her hair, hers stroking the lean muscles of his back. He was always there to give advice and comfort, or sometimes just to listen when she needed to vent her frustrations. His presence helped ease the
tension of worrying about the Library and Gowan and her new Council responsibilities, the last of which left her nerves frayed to the point of wanting to scream. She’d made list after list of what she thought the department of Arts should do, what her responsibilities ought to be, and how to reverse the damage Commerce had done. Not that she knew the full extent of what Commerce had done, which provided her with greater tension. Anthony at least had stepped into a department whose structure had already been established. She’d started to doubt Zara’s wisdom in creating this ill-defined one.

  She put her hand between her mouth and Henry’s. “Now I really do have to work, and so do you,” she said.

  He kissed her palm. “All right,” he said. “But we’re almost out of cards again.”

  Alison swore, making Henry’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Such language, Countess,” he said.

  “It makes me feel better. Gowan hasn’t tried anything for several days now and I can’t stop worrying about what he’ll do next. And there’s no way to stop him, short of killing him, and I draw the line at assassination.”

  “We really ought to talk to Margaret,” Henry said, taking a step away from her. “She could rein him in.”

  “Henry, don’t you think the fact that she hasn’t reined him in says something about where she stands on this issue?”

  “She can’t possibly realize what he’s been doing. She just doesn’t think that way.”

  Alison put her hand on the door latch. “I really don’t think it’s going to do any good. I’m going into the city to talk to a few more suppliers. They can’t all have Scholia accounts. And then I have a meeting with the Arts department aides. I’m sorry to leave so much Library business to you.”

  “Anything I can do to help,” Henry said, taking her hand and kissing it. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I know,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”