Calkoran looked to Alastar. “Was that your idea?”
“No. It was his from the start. So was the idea of including the Collegium.”
Calkoran looked back to Charyn. “You’re asking a lot of some of the older High Holders.”
“I know. But the times are changing, and they’re changing faster than ever before. If we don’t change with the times, Solidar will fall apart.”
“He’s right, you know,” said Alastar. “You wouldn’t be a High Holder if the first Rex Regis hadn’t changed things so those of a Pharsi heritage could be High Holders.”
“There is that,” replied Calkoran with a wry smile. “Zaerlyn leaned on me pretty hard to become a councilor. I’m beginning to see why.” His eyes settled on Charyn again. “Why are you pushing that change to water law?”
“Because I’m already seeing a conflict building between High Holders and factors over using water. I want the joint councils to agree on a consistent law that’s seen as fair for everyone, based on equal treatment. There are already a number of factors who have more wealth than many High Holders. There will be more. I suspect, but I don’t know, that the number of High Holders is slowly declining, and the number of wealthy factors is rapidly growing.”
Calkoran nodded. “It appears we are living in interesting times. Is that true of the Collegium as well, Maitre?”
“Equally so, I’d say. Some of the changes are welcome, of course. With thanks to Rex Charyn, the Collegium now has a marvelous clavecin that we’ve installed in a music room. We also have more imagers from High Holder families than previously, and, there’s actually a factorage now on Imagisle…”
Charyn listened as Alastar talked, nodding occasionally, and wondering when Aloryana and the others would return.
Less than half a quint later, thankfully, Alyna led the four other women back into the anteroom, where they all had their choice of beverages.
After a time, Charyn made his way to Aloryana. “Are you going to play something for me?”
“Only if you play first.”
Charyn raised his eyebrows.
“Please.”
He grinned. “All right … if Malyna will also.”
Aloryana looked to Malyna.
“Just one piece.”
Alastar smiled and said, “I do believe we’re going to hear a very short recital.”
Charyn found himself leading the way into the music room, where he sat down at the clavecin and played Nocturne Number Three. When he finished, he gestured to Aloryana, who joined him for the duet. Then she played the Serkuyn prelude, while Malyna, who played last, played “Variations on a Scherzo,” the piece she’d played months before, the last time Charyn had heard her perform.
As Malyna left the clavecin, she turned to Charyn. “You played well.”
“You also played very well.”
She smiled. “It’s good to have a clavecin at the Collegium. Thank you.”
“Do you play in public?” Calkoran asked Charyn.
“No. Only for family and close friends. It would seem frivolous otherwise, I fear.”
“You’re probably right.”
Before all that long, Charyn sat at the head of the table with Saelya on his left and Calkoran on the right. Beside Calkoran was Alyna, and beside Saelya was Alastar. Aloryana sat opposite Charyn, with Malyna between Aloryana and Alastar, and Lystara between Aloryana and Alyna.
Charyn looked to Aloryana. “If you’d offer a grace?”
Aloryana flushed for a moment, then said, “For the grace from above, for the bounty of the earth below, for Your justice, and for Your manifold and great mercies, we offer our thanks and gratitude, both now and ever more, in the spirit of that which cannot be named or imaged.”
When she finished, and everyone was served wine, Charyn lifted his goblet. “To family and friends.”
“To family and friends.”
Moments later, the dark-haired Saelya looked to Charyn. “Your Grace, I had no idea you played clavecin … and so well.”
“My repertoire is still limited,” Charyn confessed, “but I’m working on expanding it. I never thought I’d find practicing and learning new music enjoyable and even relaxing, but it is.” He smiled. “And I also find that I need something to take my mind off the rest of the day.”
“Don’t we all,” said Calkoran cheerfully.
“Have you always enjoyed playing?” asked Saelya.
“No, I haven’t. Only in the last year, and especially since I became Rex. Part of that is doubtless because all the assassination attempts forced me to look toward fewer outdoor activities.”
“Surely, that’s changed now, hasn’t it … given who was behind those attempts?” asked Calkoran.
“It’s much less likely,” Charyn admitted, “and I’ve begun to resume more public appearances, if without fanfare or advance notice. I did tour the flood-damaged areas of L’Excelsis…”
“That’s good. People need to see their ruler,” Calkoran declared heartily.
“Do you know who the figures are on the stone frieze above the main entry?” asked Saelya.
“The one in the center of the group on the left, I understand, is the first Rex Regis. The others around him are his senior officers. The group on the right, I have no idea.”
“The frieze doesn’t look that old.”
“It is. All the stonework in the Chateau is the same as when the first imagers restored it. The stone is much harder than normal stone. Bullets don’t even chip it.”
“Bullets?” asked Calkoran.
“There have been more than a few fired at the Chateau in the last fifteen years.”
“I think it’s remarkable that the frieze is still there. Do you think that the first Rex Regis really looked like that?”
“Since the frieze was likely imaged rather than stone-cut,” interjected Alastar, “it’s likely a fair representation.”
“Just to think, after all those years,” marveled Saelya.
Charyn nodded and took another swallow of the Tacqueville white. Perhaps he’d have a better chance to talk with Aloryana on Solayi evening after services.
19
Even by the time he reached his study on Jeudi morning, Charyn found himself feeling somewhat melancholy. Yet, the conversation the evening before had not been discouraging. The food had been good, and Charyn had definitely enjoyed playing the clavecin, although he wished he had learned his “newer” pieces well enough to play them before others. From what he’d observed, Aloryana and Lystara had enjoyed themselves while they’d been at the Chateau. Malyna had been slightly reserved, most likely because she was neither as young as Aloryana and Lystara nor as interested in what the older members of the party had discussed.
In the future, you need to keep that in mind.
As for the meeting of the councils, he’d gotten the councilors to look at the water problem, and he’d raised the issue of the True Believers. He was concerned that Alastar had linked them to the destruction that Elthyrd had brought to his attention, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much Argentyl actually knew about that destruction.
Finally, he wrote out an invitation for Argentyl to meet with him on the following Lundi, at a time of Argentyl’s convenience, and had Sturdyn arrange for it to be dispatched.
You should have done this sooner. Much sooner.
He looked down at the petition from a High Holder Laesheld. He’d only read the first page, enough to know that it dealt with yet another issue of water rights and usage.
After taking a deep breath, he stood and walked to the open window, where only a hint of a hot and damp breeze brushed past him. For a time, he just gazed blankly toward the north, thoughts drifting through his mind—the flood, the need for repairs, the lack of golds in the treasury, the brutal combination of drought and flood on crops and what the result was bound to be, the ongoing and undeclared war with Jariola, the conflict between the factors and the artisans and crafters, the growing problem of the True Belie
vers, the issue of keeping the water in streams and rivers from being too contaminated, the problem with Bhayrn, his worries about Elthyrd’s continuing illness … and, of course, Alyncya, and whether he was attracted to her because she had many of the talents that Palenya had … or largely because of her own attributes and personality.
Finally, since there was only one of those problems he could address at the moment, he returned to the table desk, took out paper, dipped the pen in the inkwell … and began to write.
After some time, he reread what he had set to paper.
Lady-heir Alyncya—
While your letter was indeed delayed by the circumstances of our geographical separation, I enjoyed it nonetheless, and your ruminations upon choice and intent, as well as the implications of your examples, were definitely thought-provoking.
Last night we had a pleasant gathering here, a dinner attended by what one might call extended family, since Maitre Alyna, Maitre Malyna, and Maitre Lystara are all distant blood relations, since Maitre Alyna is related through marriage to High Holder and Lady Calkoran, and since, of course, Aloryana is my sister, while Maitre Alastar is married to Maitre Alyna. All those master imagers in the Chateau gave me pause. I’m not certain there has ever been such a gathering here. I did persuade Aloryana to play for us, and the two of us played a duet. Maitre Malyna and I also each played one piece. I did not play “Variations on a Khellan Melody.” My grasp of it is not yet barely competent, let alone acceptable for even extended family, but I certainly would have enjoyed the evening more had you been here and joined us in playing.
I do hope that none of your holdings were damaged by the recent floods. Thankfully, only a small part of L’Excelsis was inundated, and the water receded comparatively quickly, but it’s obvious that I will need to fund repairs of the river walls in several places—once the water levels of the river drop enough so that work is practicable.
In your latest correspondence, you suggested that men find harm created through human intent more evil than harm caused by nature because, while they cannot change what nature does, they can make a choice and that the act of making a choice elevates them, at least in their own minds. That may well be so for some men. While nature has no choice but to follow its course, men and women often, but not always, have the ability to choose, and those who find ills caused by intent more evil may honestly believe that the ability to discern between good and evil is tarnished by choosing to do evil.
There is also the problem of defining “evil,” for what one person may call evil, another may not. A factor may not pay his workers enough for them to buy enough food, and that worker will claim that is evil. The factor, in turn, will say that if he does pay more, then he and his family will suffer. Further, he may point out that the worker would have no job at all if the factorage costs more to operate than the coins its goods bring in. Yet each may think the other “evil” in intent.
Many men feel that whatever riches, power, or privilege that they have is theirs rightfully, and that anything that diminishes those riches, powers, or privileges is wrong, even evil, no matter how any of those were initially obtained, or, for that matter, how they may lose any part of what they have. In order to justify such blame, they often attribute evil to others, particularly those who have gained most, or those they believe have kept them from regaining what they have lost. When they attempt to take violent action, as did the rebelling High Holders, they claim that they had no choice. From the little of life that I have seen, often such a claim means that their violence was the only choice they found acceptable, not that there were no other choices.
There are indeed times when we have few meaningful choices, as you pointed out so eloquently, but there are also times when pride, stupidity, arrogance, or shortsightedness prevent us from seeing or choosing other possibilities, a shortcoming with which, upon occasion, I have become most painfully and personally aware.
In this regard, I will close, thanking you once more for your thoughtful correspondence and hoping for your reply.
Again, he signed with just his name, then sealed the missive and readied it for dispatch.
After several long moments, he looked at the petition on his desk. With a deep breath that was not quite a sigh, he picked it up and resumed reading, forcing himself through the words with the thought that undue delay would only make matters worse.
20
Just before fifth glass on Solayi, the unmarked coach carried Charyn from the rear courtyard of the Chateau down to the Ring Road and then onto the Boulevard D’Rex, heading toward Imagisle. As he passed the Anomen D’Rex, he studied it, but he saw no one at all around the structure. The Boulevard D’Rex was almost empty, but that was hardly surprising on Solayi evening.
When the coach came to a full stop outside the Maitre’s dwelling, Lystara and Aloryana, as always in their imager grays, immediately hurried to the coach so that Charyn didn’t even have to get out.
“How was your week, Ladies?” asked Charyn once they were settled. “Since the dinner on Meredi, of course.”
“We’re imagers,” said Aloryana.
“You are, but you both merit the title of Lady as well.”
Lystara frowned.
“Aloryana is still my sister, and you are an unmarried Imager Maitre, which merits the title of Lady, at least in speech.” Charyn paused, then added, “But then, Aloryana is probably right, in the sense that most ladies don’t earn their titles, while maitres do, especially your mother. She certainly deserves a title.”
“She has one. She’s Senior Imager.”
“She deserves that.” And more. “I still can’t believe all the buildings that she created.”
“She doesn’t like anyone to talk about it. When Father brings it up, she says that buildings are easy compared to running the Collegium.” Lystara grinned. “He still brings it up sometimes.”
“And the rest of your week?” Charyn prompted Aloryana.
“I’m working on concealments. They’re harder to do than shields, but I don’t get as tired once I get it.”
“It won’t be long before it gets easier,” said Lystara. “How long have you been able to hold one? Really hold one for as long as you want?”
“Two weeks.”
“In another few weeks, it will be as easy as walking.”
“Do you two still run every morning?”
“Except when it’s raining hard,” replied Aloryana. “Are you still exercising with the guards?”
“Most mornings. It’s safer that way.” He smiled sheepishly. “Also, I don’t slack off.”
“That’s why Father has the younger guards lead the way on the morning run,” said Lystara.
“He still runs with all of you?” asked Charyn.
“He does, but he runs with most of the others,” said Lystara.
Charyn didn’t know what she meant.
“Lystara, Malyna, and Maitre Alyna are in the fastest group,” explained Aloryana. “I’m in the second group with Maitre Alastar, but I’m getting faster.”
“What about your studies?”
“They’re easy now, but I still have to work, especially in arithmetics and calculations. Maitre Alyna teaches those.”
As the three got out of the coach, and walked toward the side door of the Anomen D’Rex, Charyn realized that not only had Aloryana grown several digits in the months she’d been at the Collegium, but that she resembled both Malyna and Lystara in her carriage and overall appearance. She really is becoming an imager.
The three, followed by a pair of guards in brown, had just stepped inside the anomen when Chorister Saerlet hurried up.
“Your Grace, it’s so good to see you again. I was afraid you were forsaking the Nameless.”
“That, I’m not doing, Chorister, but I am attending some services at Imagisle with Aloryana, at least for a while.”
“I hope my homilies aren’t keeping you away.”
Charyn shook his head. “I’m looking forward to what you have to
say this evening.”
“Will I see you after services?”
“Most likely not. I’d prefer not to tempt fate. Have you heard any more about the True Believers?”
“We should talk later, Your Grace. I need to get ready.” Saerlet almost fled.
“He doesn’t seem happy,” murmured Aloryana.
“No, he doesn’t.” Charyn looked to Lystara. “We should leave quickly, with the last word of the benediction.”
Lystara nodded.
“If you’re really worried, we could leave under a concealment,” suggested Aloryana.
“We’ll see,” replied Charyn.
Once Charyn and the others were inside the roped-off regial area, Charyn glanced down the nave toward the main entrance. The anomen had never been full anytime that he’d attended services—except for the memorial service for his father—but it seemed to him that there were even fewer attending. Perhaps because it’s midharvest and hot?
Still, just as the chimes struck the glass, Saerlet appeared in the middle of the dais and stood there while the choir offered the invocation, then intoned, “We are gathered here together this evening in the spirit of the Nameless and in affirmation of the quest for goodness and mercy in all that we do.”
Charyn managed to murmur most of the words of the opening hymn, “Words Unspoken,” as well as the confession, a ritual in which he had little faith. By the time Saerlet stepped to the pulpit, offering the usual “Good evening,” Charyn just hoped that the chorister had something at least halfway inspirational to say.
“And it is a good evening, for under the Nameless all evenings are good, and we should offer thanks for that goodness.” Saerlet paused for a long moment before continuing. “All of us have heard of Rholan the Unnamer. His sayings about goodness, and what it is and what it is not, have been repeated over the years. Rholan, as some of you may know, was not terribly fond of righteous choristers, and in more ways than one alluded to the fact that what we say from the pulpit is not the only way to worship the Nameless or to live a goodly life…”
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