Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “Palenya told me she’ll be playing at the Autumn-Turn Ball,” Aloryana said quietly.

  “She will be. She’s the best clavecin player, and it pays well.” Charyn frowned. “She’s not upset, is she?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Charyn.”

  After a moment, Charyn said, “I’m certainly not going to announce that I’m getting married. I’m nowhere close to even asking anyone.”

  “Then Palenya won’t be upset. Neither will I. You promised, remember?”

  “I told you…” Even as he replied, Charyn wondered how much Palenya would have been upset. Except she did care for you, and you … Charyn swallowed. Are you trying to find someone so that it will be easier to forget? He kept walking without saying a word.

  Aloryana didn’t say anything, either, for a time, then asked, “Have you had Alyncya to the Chateau again?”

  “Not since the dinner for the High Holders living near L’Excelsis. I told you about that. That was over three weeks ago.”

  “You’re interested in her.”

  “Yes, I’m more interested in her than anyone else. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t want to rush into marrying someone because Solidar needs an heir.” Especially anyone who can’t measure up to Palenya. “Besides, in some ways I scarcely know her. Equally important, from her point of view, she scarcely knows me.”

  “If you aren’t seeing her, how can you learn any more about her?”

  “You were just telling me I shouldn’t rush. Now you’re saying I should know more about her.”

  “You should know more about anyone, maybe more about several women.”

  “We’ve been exchanging letters. I think she’s interested, but she never replies immediately.”

  “That’s to keep you interested.”

  “Partly, I’d judge. Partly, it’s to give her time as well.”

  “She wants to make sure you’re really interested. I need to meet her.”

  “I promised you…”

  “Just remember that.”

  Charyn was glad they were nearing the anomen. He wasn’t certain that he was ready for any more of Aloryana’s questions. And what does that tell you?

  He was so preoccupied with his sister’s revelation about Palenya and her questions that, by the time they left the anomen to walk back to the Maitre’s house, Charyn honestly had no idea what Iskhar’s homily had been about, and he found himself walking beside Alastar, with Alyna accompanying Lystara and Aloryana.

  “You know,” said Alastar, breaking into Charyn’s conflicting thoughts, “that more than four warehouses were burned last night?”

  “I could smell the smoke. I had the feeling that was the case, but none of the guards or anyone else knew anything except the fires had occurred well south of the river piers.”

  “Eshmael lost a warehouse—a large one—and he’ll want to know what you intend to do when he comes to the Council meeting.”

  “I’d be interested in what the factors intend to do.”

  “They have the Civic Patrol knocking on the door of every artisan and crafter who’s ever said a word against the new manufactorages.” Alastar paused. “So far, they’re just knocking. If the fires and destruction continue, they’ll likely stop merely questioning. Last night, one patroller was shot, and another one burned to death when part of a warehouse exploded. Also, Argentyl’s shop was burned to the ground, along with the cobbler’s shop in the adjoining building.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’d rather not suggest anything, but it appears that neither the crafters nor the factors are inclined to talk to each other, let alone listen.”

  Charyn smiled, if bitterly. “What you’re saying is that they’re only going to listen to force, and that you’ll lose your effectiveness in this instance if the Collegium is the one to apply that force.”

  “That’s not what I said, and it’s not what I’m implying,” returned Alastar evenly. “There are less than twenty imager maitres with shields strong enough to withstand continued rifle shots. There are scores of manufactorages just in L’Excelsis, and that doesn’t count those in nearby towns and cities. There are likely scores of angry workers and crafters. It’s not a question of power, but what kind of power is necessary and who has that power.”

  Charyn got the message. Only the army had the ability to apply force in scores of locations across Solidar, and it was definitely looking like he was going to have to deploy that force. “Then the question is whether the Collegium will stand behind whoever applies that kind of force.”

  “The Collegium has always stood behind the law as set forth in the Codex Legis.”

  “The next months are going to be very interesting,” replied Charyn dryly.

  “All months are interesting in some fashion or another.” Alastar smiled. “I hope you’ll stay for refreshments this evening, Jienna made a special pearapple pie.”

  “I wouldn’t miss that.” And Aloryana would be disappointed if I left early.

  The pearapple pie was excellent, as was the conversation, if according to the Maitre’s rules, which required no talk about matters such as what the Rex or the Collegium might do in the weeks ahead, but only about subjects such as books, music, history or people who weren’t alive … or the studies and recent achievements of young imagers.

  Even so, Charyn did leave slightly earlier than he might have, since the clouds thickened, and a light drizzle resumed. The rain didn’t get heavier until Charyn and the three guards were almost at the Ring Road, for which he was most thankful.

  When he finally walked up the grand staircase, still wearing his oilskin jacket, Bhayrn waited for him at the top of the stairs.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I went to services with Aloryana and stayed a little to have refreshments and talk with her.”

  “I thought I saw the unmarked carriage in the carriage house.”

  Just to be contrary, Charyn replied, “You must be mistaken. How else would I have gotten there, especially in the rain?”

  “Don’t tell me you took the regial coach?” Bhayrn shook his head. “That must have been a sight for all the imagers.”

  “They’re used to me attending services with Aloryana.” Charyn paused and then added, “They don’t take shots at me.”

  “You’ve only been shot at that one time since you forced Uncle to kill himself.”

  “That was his choice, as you well know.”

  Bhayrn opened his mouth, then shut it, finally just shaking his head before finally saying, “I’d like to use the unmarked coach tomorrow if the rain continues.”

  “I don’t plan to go anywhere tomorrow, but if I do, I’ll make other arrangements. Do you know if anyone has attacked Ghaermyn’s manufactorages?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because some were burned last night, and I wondered if any might be his.”

  “He was ready for that. A mob tried. His men shot five or six of them, and the ruffians fled. It would be better if you took care of it, you know? Then everyone would understand.”

  “What about Laastyn? He doesn’t have any manufactorages, does he?”

  Bhayrn shook his head. “He has mines and quarries, and thousands and thousands of hectares in timber. Most of the timber is around Asseroiles, Laamyst says.”

  Charyn managed not to frown. “He doesn’t like having factorages?”

  “Just ones large enough to take care of the needs of his lands and properties. Coins come and go, but the lands remain. He’s said that several times.”

  “Do you know if he’s still expanding his holdings?”

  “Why do you want to know? So you can tariff him more?”

  “I was just curious, but would that be so bad? From what Alucar and I have been able to determine, a number of High Holders are undertariffed, and a few are overtariffed. I told you that months
ago.”

  “It isn’t fair to raise tariffs just on the High Holders you find out about and not on the others.”

  “I know that. I’m not doing it.” Not in most cases, anyway. “That’s why we’re working to update the holding records. That can mean either raising or lowering tariffs. We’ve done both.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Bhayrn nodded almost brusquely. “I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s been a long day.”

  “Sleep well,” said Charyn, but his brother had already turned toward his rooms.

  Charyn shook his head. The only question was exactly what Bhayrn’s friends wanted from him, and Charyn worried about the least of those possibilities and hoped that he could steer Bhayrn away from the worst.

  36

  Slightly before eighth glass on Lundi morning, Charyn received a relatively brief report from Marshal Vaelln which noted that the Jariolan and Solidaran fleets had met off the Abierto Isles and that the results were stated in the attached report from Sea Marshal Tynan.

  Charyn read through Tynan’s detailed and lengthy report, but what it amounted to was that in the battle between the Jariolans and Solidarans, Tynan’s fleet lost sixteen warships, including two first-rate ships of the line, and five other ships were damaged so badly that they had to return to Westisle. The confirmed Jariolan losses totaled twenty-seven ships sunk, including seven first-raters, and seven others even thought to be so badly damaged as to be out of service, some of which might possibly be lost on the return to Jariola. The battle broke the attempted Jariolan blockade, but the loss of ships meant that the Sea Marshal had no way to send any more ships to Otelyrn to deal with the Jariolan privateers there.

  Vaelln’s letter had one other disturbing paragraph.

  … Tynan also reported under separate cover more than fifteen incidents of violence against factorages and factors’ warehouses in Ferravyl and Solis over the previous week. Ten men have been caught, and five executed, five sentenced to terms in the penal supply galleys, but the violence has continued …

  Between what Charyn had seen and heard, what Alastar had said, and what Vaelln had reported, Charyn didn’t see that he had much choice.

  “Wyllum?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “We need to draft a letter to Marshal Vaelln…” Charyn went on to detail what he wanted, then turned his attention to reading the draft provisions dealing with choristers while Wyllum worked on the draft.

  Less than half a glass later, Charyn read over the second draft of the letter.

  Marshal Vaelln—

  The continued and growing violence against factors, factorages, manufactorages, and factors’ warehouses in and around L’Excelsis and, as reported by Sea Marshal Tynan, in Ferravyl and Solis is clearly beyond the ability of the various Civic Patrols to control. This suggests that it may be necessary to use units of the army to restore a more normal order. Before considering such a step, however, I would appreciate your insight, expertise, and suggestions on the matter. For that reason, I would appreciate your arriving a glass before the Council meeting on Meredi so that we can discuss the matter.

  After reading it, he signed and sealed it, and had Wyllum arrange for its dispatch and delivery to the Marshal.

  At a quint or so after ninth glass, a package arrived from Estafen, which Charyn opened personally, suspecting what might be inside. He was right. The package contained a monthly report from Engineer Ostraaw, with a note that the increased revenues resulted from more rifle sales—from two hundred two in Juyn to five hundred ninety-one in Agostos.

  Two hundred of the additional sales went to the Factors’ Council, but who bought the additional hundred and ninety? Charyn really did need to make another trip to the ironworks.

  Ostraaw finished the report with the observation that he was keeping the gates closed for protection against the crafter mobs, and that, if Suyrien had any influence, to ask that the Maitre of the Collegium request entrance if the imagers needed access to the ironworks.

  At the last, Charyn frowned. He had no idea to what Ostraaw was referring, and he couldn’t very well ask Alastar without revealing that he owned the ironworks as a factor, and that was something he didn’t want to reveal directly. Maybe an allusion? He’d have to think about that.

  Then he handed the draft language about choristers to Wyllum. “Please make two copies of this language. I want the choristers to look at it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Just after midday, Sturdyn carried in an envelope. “A messenger from Councilor Eshmael brought this.”

  “Thank you.” Charyn didn’t even want to imagine what Eshmael had to say, particularly since the cloth factor had already lost both a warehouse and a manufactorage, albeit his smallest and least profitable one. Still, once Sturdyn had left, Charyn opened the envelope and began to read.

  Rex Charyn—

  The amount of destruction and loss caused by selfish crafters and lazy workers is intolerable. The number of malefactors is beyond the ability of the Civic Patrol to control, and the destruction is increasing. The factors and even some High Holders of Solidar should not be punished for making improvements in the creation of cloth and other goods. Yet this is what is happening. I have now lost both a manufactorage and a warehouse to this senseless violence. I am far from the only factor thus burdened.

  It is imperative that you as Rex take immediate action. I look forward to hearing what that action will be at the Council meeting on Meredi.

  The signature was “Eshmael D’Factorius.”

  Charyn had no doubts that the Council meeting would be even more acrimonious than he had expected. After reading the letter a second time, he placed it in the cabinet behind him and took a deep breath.

  Shortly before first glass, Charyn turned to Wyllum. “I want you to stay here for the meeting with the choristers. Just listen. Don’t say a word.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When the two choristers arrived, Refaal was the first to enter the study. He wore the same dark green jacket, shirt, and trousers, although his chorister’s scarf was a lighter shade of green. His dark brown hair was slightly mussed, and his oval face looked gaunter than before. Faheel didn’t look that much older than Charyn. While Charyn had half-expected the assistant chorister to have the dark hair and the honey-colored complexion that would have gone with a name that sounded vaguely Pharsi, Faheel was tall, green-eyed, blond, and thin. His eyes flicked all around the study as he walked to the chairs before the desk.

  Charyn waited until both were seated. “Have either of you two heard anything more from the True Believers?”

  “No, sir,” offered Faheel quickly.

  “And you, Refaal?”

  “I received a note yesterday. Rather it was left for me. It was unsigned. Like the other one. I brought it with me.” The chorister extended the envelope, which had been slit open, but which bore no sign of a seal.

  Charyn took the envelope and extracted the single sheet. There wasn’t much to read, set forth in standard merchant hand.

  Just keep preaching about the real Rholan and about real people.

  The True Beliefs aren’t about gold.

  Charyn shook his head. “I doubt that Rholan ever advocated burning the goods and buildings of factors, but I wouldn’t preach that in a homily at the moment.” He paused, then turned to Faheel. “Have you heard anything from Chorister Saerlet?”

  “No, sir. No one at the anomen has. I don’t know anyone who has.”

  Charyn looked to Refaal. “What about you?”

  “Not a thing, sir.”

  “I didn’t ask you both here just to find out whether you’d heard more, but for several reasons. First, I’d like each of you to tell me—honestly—why you think all of these incidents involving the True Believers are taking place.”

  The two choristers exchanged glances.

  Then Refaal cleared his throat. “It’s only a guess, really, Your Grace. When I became chorister at the Anomen D’Excelsis, I was a little surpris
ed. As I’ve hinted, the anomen needs repairs, and there were only the minimal pieces of furniture, and really, no furnishings to speak of in the quarters, not even wall hangings. I asked the sexton about that. He told me that Chorister Lytaarl took all the hangings and all the furnishings he’d purchased over the years, then purchased very inexpensive chairs, and a table and bedstead and bed—and one armoire.”

  “I take it Lytaarl had more than one armoire?”

  “Three, the sexton said. I’ve had to purchase lamps, linens, just everyday things…”

  “And?” pressed Charyn, knowing that Refaal wanted Charyn to complete the picture. “What does this have to do with the True Believers?”

  “I don’t think that the luxuries with which some choristers have indulged themselves have gone unnoticed. I also think that people, especially workers and crafters, get angry when they see this. Especially now, when times are hard for many.”

  Charyn gestured to Faheel. “Your thoughts?”

  “I would agree … except some of the factors are angry at both the True Believers and the crafters. Yesterday, I spoke about the need to share the good things in life. One factor came up after and told me that he didn’t think he should have to share with those who were lazy. He’d worked hard all his life, and few of his workers ever worked that hard. Another one asked me what choristers ever did besides talk about what others should do. When I said that we helped the very poor with food and clothes we gathered, he told me to look at why they were poor.”

  “Do you have many factors in your congregation, Refaal?”

  “A few handfuls, perhaps. Most are crafters.”

  “And most who go to the Anomen D’Rex are factors, aren’t they?” Charyn asked Faheel.

  “From their attire, I would say so.”

  The two answers made a sort of sense to Charyn, except that there was one part that didn’t. Why did the True Believers storm the Anomen D’Rex and not the Anomen D’Excelsis? Were those who stormed the Anomen D’Rex actually from somewhere else in the city? And if they were, how did they know just how much of the offerings Saerlet had been spending on himself?