Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Charyn didn’t know whether to sigh or laugh. “I am interested, but I don’t know enough about her, and she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t know enough about me. She’s also made it clear that her father will not agree to any match she opposes. In a way, he’s made it clear as well.”

  “You still haven’t told me who she is.”

  “You’re going to insist, aren’t you?”

  “Charyn.”

  That name contained more exasperation than any single word should, Charyn felt. “If you’ll keep her name to yourself—and Lystara.”

  “I won’t tell,” added the young maitre.

  “So tell me,” pressed Aloryana.

  Charyn did sigh. “Alyncya D’Shendael-Alte.”

  “She’s the heir? No wonder her father won’t force her. But that’s good. You need someone to stand up to you.”

  “Like you and Mother?”

  “She’ll have to be stronger. You’re stubborn.”

  “And you’re not?”

  At that, Lystara laughed.

  “Does she play well?”

  “Better than I do. Better than Malyna. Not quite so well as Palenya.”

  “That’s good. Have you asked her?”

  “You said—”

  “Are you thinking of asking her?”

  “She’s made it clear that she’s interested. She’s made it even clearer that I’m not to rush matters.”

  “She’s very wise, then.”

  Charyn couldn’t help but think Aloryana sounded more like their mother than his younger sister. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re not quite over Palenya. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be avoiding her.”

  Charyn glanced ahead. They were less than a hundred yards from the Maitre’s dwelling. “You think so?”

  “I do. But it’s good you’re interested in someone else. I’m glad she likes the clavecin. When will I get to meet her?”

  “Ah … I hadn’t thought about that … yet.”

  “You promised.”

  “I’m nowhere close to asking her anything.”

  “You’re thinking about it. I can tell. I want to meet her.”

  Charyn offered a crooked smile. “So I should just tell her that my younger sister wants to meet her?”

  “Why not?”

  “I promised you that you could meet anyone I was considering seriously. Right now, it’s not that serious.”

  “It’s more serious than that. She just won’t let it be, it sounds like.”

  “Perhaps I should just allow you to work matters out.”

  “Don’t sound so stuffy, Charyn. I didn’t like it when Father was stuffy. I don’t like it when you are.”

  Charyn didn’t recall their father as stuffy. Autocratic and seldom able to compromise, but not stuffy.

  As Alastar reached the steps to the front porch, he turned back and looked at Charyn. “You’re coming in, I hope.”

  “If you’re inviting, I’m accepting.”

  “Excellent. I now have a keg of white wine. Not as fine as your Tacqueville, but reasonably good.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Working with you has been much more productive than with some of your predecessors, and certainly more pleasant, and we’ve enjoyed having Aloryana with us as well.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn didn’t need to say that working with the Maitre had been far easier than working with either factors or High Holders—or crafters and artisans.

  In what seemed moments, the five were sitting in the parlor, Alastar and Alyna with dark lager, Lystara and Aloryana with pale ale, and Charyn with a white wine slightly drier than his Tacqueville white, but still very pleasant.

  “Iskhar’s homily was interesting,” offered Charyn.

  “Mostly true, I think,” commented Alastar, “but there have been times when the turmoil has been greater than now.”

  “So far,” replied Charyn. “But as I said earlier, I worry that the crafters’ unhappiness could lead to even more violence.”

  “This had to come sooner or later,” said Alyna. “Imagers could have made many goods better and for less cost than crafters. Alastar made sure we didn’t, and that made matters more difficult for Imagisle. Now that factors are developing more machines, the crafters and artisans are going to have to find a way to live with the changes that are coming.”

  “I’m trying to find that way, but so far…” Charyn shook his head. “… I don’t see anything that doesn’t involve golds and force.”

  “You may have to use both, as long as the amounts of either aren’t excessive,” replied Alyna. “High Holders are certainly no strangers to using both.”

  “Speaking of High Holders,” said Charyn, “I had some who live close to L’Excelsis for dinner last night. One of them was Laevoryn. He’s not much older than I am. I don’t think he’s that fond of you. If he’s not, that means I should be wary, but it would be good to know why.”

  Alastar smiled. “The way you phrased that doesn’t give me much choice, I think.”

  “Charyn should know,” said Alyna.

  “The elder Laevoryn housed and supported a company of the brownshirt rebel troopers who killed a number of student imagers during the High Holder revolt. He tried to kill me and a few others when we cornered him in his hold house. The troopers with me shot him. His son was rather aggrieved when I suggested that, given his father’s rebellion against the Rex, any action along those lines on the part of the younger Laevoryn could forfeit his lands and holding, especially since there was some suspicion that the young Laevoryn had been involved with the death of the nephew of a factor, although nothing was ever proved.” Alastar paused. “He can’t be that much older than you.”

  If Alastar mentioned something as not being proved, Charyn thought, the Maitre clearly believed that there was some connection, but likely wouldn’t say more. “He looks a few years older, although his wife looks younger than Aloryana.”

  “No doubt she’s quite … pliant,” suggested the Maitre. “He didn’t strike me as a young man who would brook any opposition to anything he wants or thinks.”

  “I got that impression as well,” replied Charyn.

  “Was High Holder Shendael there as well?” asked Aloryana, an innocent look upon her face.

  “He was. He’s widowed, and he brought his daughter Alyncya. Ferrand was there also, as was Aunt Elacia, and Ferron D’Fhernon’s parents as well.”

  “Is Ferron still interested in Malyna?”

  “Since he wasn’t there, I couldn’t ask him, and his parents didn’t say anything about her or him.”

  “What about Ferrand? Is he interested in anyone?”

  “You’d have to ask him. I’m not about to guess as to whether he is or to what extent.”

  “He talks to you. I know he does.”

  “He does, and that’s between us,” Charyn returned with a smile. “Now, it’s time to change the subject.” He took a swallow of the wine before looking to Alastar. “Have you any recommendations for me for a personal scrivener or secretary?”

  “I’ve given it some considerable thought, and there are two young men who might be suitable, but I need to talk to each of them again. I’ll send you a written recommendation in a day or so.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate it. There is one other matter. Have you noticed the rather sinister way in which the newssheet Tableta refers to me?”

  “I have observed that their stories reflect less than favorably on you.”

  “I’d thought about visiting their facility, with a few guards, and just asking them what they expect of me.”

  “They might tell you,” replied Alastar, an amused tone in his voice. “But I don’t know that a visit would serve you well until after you’ve taken some action to deal with the attacks of factors and warehouses. Then, if they complain about what you’ve done, your question might have more effect. Of course, it also might not have the effect you’d wish.”

&
nbsp; Charyn laughed. “You have a very polite way of telling me that it’s a very bad idea.”

  “He got in that habit in dealing with your predecessors,” said Alyna dryly.

  Charyn noticed that Aloryana frowned at that, if only momentarily. “Father had trouble seeing things in different ways. I’m trying not to fall into that trap.”

  “We all have that tendency. The question is not whether we do,” replied Alastar, “but what we do about it.”

  “As always, Maitre, you’re very practical.” Charyn took another swallow of the wine, knowing that he needed to be leaving before long.

  26

  The first thing Charyn did on Mardi morning when he entered his study was to read the newssheets. He was relieved to discover nothing printed about himself in Veritum, but far less happy about the long and detailed story about the continued destruction of factors’ goods and warehouses, although heartened slightly by the observation that the damage was clearly created by “ruffians who apparently believe that such destruction will stop the building of manufactorages that provide goods at lower prices for the people of Solidar.”

  Tableta’s view was, predictably, rather different.

  … the Factors’ Council is offering rewards for the names of those individuals who have tried to rid L’Excelsis and Solidar of poorly made imported wares and inferior cloth churned out by starving children. The factors of Solidar and even some High Holders insist that low wages and cheap goods bring prosperity. How can this be when able-bodied crafters and men are thrown out of work? How can cloth that shreds after a few wearings contribute to well-being …

  The story went on from there.

  In addition, there was a very short story on the Anomen D’Rex, just a few lines at the bottom of the first page.

  Chorister Saerlet of the Anomen D’Rex has vanished, unsurprisingly, after a protest of True Believers revealed that the now-missing chorister had pocketed a large proportion of offerings and spent them on splendid personal raiment, rather than on food for the poor or other worthy causes. Services did continue on Solayi, with assistant chorister Faheel presiding. Our beloved Rex was nowhere to be seen. Could it be that he doesn’t trust the Nameless to keep him safe?

  Charyn was surprised that Tableta somehow didn’t blame him for Saerlet’s excesses. That might come next week. Even if most of what Saerlet had amassed had been during Charyn’s father’s reign.

  Also waiting on the table desk was a reply from Factor Elthyrd that said that any funds Charyn wished to provide to the Factors’ Council in support of efforts to bring the malefactors responsible for the destruction of wares and facilities would be gratefully accepted.

  After reading that, Charyn walked from his study to Alucar’s.

  The Minister of Finance looked up from his desk as Charyn sat down across from him. “I’m almost finished with the calculations of the funds required to support the regional governors. Is that why you’re here?”

  “One of the reasons. Do you have an idea of the total cost and how much could be saved by shifting the functions to the High Command?”

  “I do, but I’d recommend against trying to get savings that way.”

  “What could be worse than all these corrupt regional administrators?”

  “A larger number of self-serving officers that you would have great difficulty removing. I grant that you have that authority, Your Grace, but putting that responsibility in the hands of military officers would give them total control of Solidar. Even if it did not work out that way, to remove one who was corrupt, you would have to take away some of the Marshal’s authority over his officers.”

  “I have that authority now.”

  “Not in reality,” replied Alucar. “You have authority to remove the officers of the High Command. That is as it should be. But you don’t know who the good subcommanders, or majors, or captains really are.”

  Charyn sat there for several moments, thinking. Finally, he asked, “Then why did you work out the calculations? If what I suggested won’t work, why didn’t you just say that?”

  “First, I was so surprised when you suggested it that I didn’t know what to say. I had a feeling there was a problem, but I wanted to think about it. Second, you’re right. There is a problem. By working out all the numbers, I could see that the differences in what regional governors spend were considerable, especially in areas that shouldn’t be that different. That allowed me to come up with a recommended budget for each regional governor, by spending categories. The governors will be required to list their local tariff and import tariff receipts and expenditures by category. By comparing what a governor spends each season to previous seasons, you can see whether they’re being excessive.”

  “They’ll lie.”

  “Of course they will, but since they don’t know what they’ve spent in the past by these categories, and we do, you’ll have better control than you do now. And … if the figures are way out of line, I can send someone to find out what they’ve been doing.”

  “What if they just pocket some of the tariffs?”

  “They do already. But this way, you have something against which you can measure what they’re collecting, or say they’re collecting, and what they’re spending.” Alucar paused. “This is just the first step.”

  Charyn raised his eyebrows.

  “Once they start reporting this way, you can set up regional auditors to check their ledgers.”

  Charyn had his doubts about whether such a scheme would work, but … it couldn’t hurt to try some of it. If nothing changed, then they could try something else. “Once you have all the details worked out, we should talk. There is one other matter.” Charyn went on to explain about providing some limited funds to the Factors’ Council.

  “A hundred golds wouldn’t be too great a burden.”

  “Then send a hundred to Elthyrd and say that it’s to be used to gain information, and that if they want or need more, you’ll need an accounting.”

  “I can do that. Do you think it will work?”

  “It will get information. Whether that information will lead anywhere is another question, but we can’t have unhappy crafters continuing to burn down warehouses and destroying goods. I’m trying to work out a way to make them less unhappy, perhaps by insisting on a minimum daily wage.”

  Alucar winced.

  “Do you have a better suggestion?”

  “Not at the moment, Your Grace.”

  “If you do, please let me know.” Charyn stood. “I look forward to seeing your proposal for better control of regional governors’ spending.”

  Even before Charyn reached the study door, Moencriff opened it and said, “There’s another letter on your desk, sir. It’s from Factor Paersyt.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn entered the study and immediately opened and read the missive.

  Your Grace—

  I am informing you, as requested, that we have installed the steam engine and have operated it with the boat docked at the piers. The engine operated most successfully. Unfortunately, the vibration from the screw was excessive. Had we continued, we would have damaged both the hull, the gearing, and the shaft and its support posts.

  I will be testing various screw designs as well as a more sturdy gearing system. Redesign of the positions of the screw, the shaft, and the rudder may also be required. As I explained earlier, these difficulties are to be expected. The fact that the engine functioned as expected is a very good indication that we can produce a propulsion system that will be superior to that afforded by the use of sails …

  Charyn did not quite shake his head. Paersyt had indeed explained that there might be many redesigns and much rebuilding, and that it might take as long as a year, if not longer, to get even the small engine and boat to work properly. And after that … building a larger version for even a frigate would take much more work.

  At least the ironworks and the rifleworks were continuing to make coins.

  27

  Slightly after midmor
ning on Jeudi, a letter from Alastar arrived by imager messenger. Charyn read it immediately. The Maitre’s words were short and to the point, recommending one Wyllum D’Imagisle as a possible personal scrivener and saying that unless Charyn sent a message to the contrary Wyllum would present himself on Vendrei afternoon with a letter of recommendation. Since Charyn had no reason to object, he informed Norstan that he would see young Wyllum whenever he arrived. He also discussed the pay for a scrivener with the seneschal, which would be roughly that of an assistant ostler or a lead guard.

  Charyn then went back to work studying the report that Alucar had compiled on the regional governors and that had been waiting on his desk for him when he entered the study. He hadn’t finished working his way through it, but he was getting the feeling that his Finance Minister was far more thoughtful than he had initially believed, and certainly more astute financially than Charyn himself was.

  But isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? Except it hadn’t been in the case of Aevidyr, and still wasn’t.

  “Captain Maertyl’s here, sir.”

  “Have him come in.”

  Maertyl walked into the study, and Charyn gestured for him to sit down across the desk from him.

  “I thought you’d like to know that the Civic Patrol caught two young men last night trying to set fire to a factor’s warehouse. They had oils and rags and strikers. The patrollers waited until they started to light the rags.”

  Charyn looked to the somber-faced captain. “You don’t look too happy. What else should I know?”

  “One of the men was Keithell’s son Weith.”

  Keithell? For a moment, Charyn didn’t recognize the name. “The former stablemaster here? His son?”

  Maertyl nodded.

  “Weith told the patrollers that you’d discharged and flogged his father for no reason at all, and that he’d lost his job as a weaver’s assistant because you aren’t protecting the workers. I told my friends in the Patrol the whole story so that the patrollers know what really happened, but…”

  “There’s a possibility that what he said will get out.”