Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Those weren’t questions Charyn could answer at the moment. So he proceeded. “I have already issued a decree that makes clear that violence against choristers and anomens is just as much of a crime as violence against other people or structures. What other ideas do either of you have as the best way to deal with the True Believers?”

  Once more the two exchanged looks.

  This time, Faheel was the one to speak first. “I don’t know, sir. After all this, I don’t know that some people will believe it when I say that I live modestly and only have a few jackets and trousers.”

  “People will talk if we dress poorly, and they’ll talk if we dress well,” added Refaal.

  “Wyllum,” said Charyn, “if you’d give each chorister a paper.”

  The scrivener immediately handed a copy of the draft language to each chorister, then returned to his seat at the end of the conference table.

  “Just read through them. After you do, we’ll talk.” Charyn watched the two as they read. Faheel appeared interested and nodded once. Refaal frowned more than once.

  When both of them looked up, Charyn said, “What you read is language drafted by the Minister of Justice for possible proclamation as law. Your thoughts, Faheel.”

  “I don’t know if it will help. It might. I don’t see that it can hurt. Most choristers should keep accounts like that.”

  “Do you know if Chorister Saerlet did?”

  “He kept accounts. I saw the ledgers. He never allowed me to look at them. I cannot find them. I’ve taken the liberty of starting a new ledger because it’s not clear whether the old ledgers will ever be found.”

  Charyn frowned. He didn’t recall seeing any entries in the regial master ledgers for the Anomen D’Rex, but he needed to check with Alucar on that. “But you could comply with those requirements?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. It would take a few glasses, every month, but … if it made things clearer to people.”

  Charyn turned to Refaal. “And you?”

  “It might take more time than that. Also, some people wouldn’t believe what was posted. We could be charged with fraud even if we did nothing wrong.”

  “Doesn’t the language say ‘significant discrepancies’ and define significance? A discrepancy of half a gold certainly isn’t insignificant. Also, the language requires proof. A statement that someone thinks your figures are wrong won’t suffice.”

  “Then, Your Grace,” said Faheel almost tentatively, “how will such a law help?”

  “I suspect, if this becomes law, that you’re going to be more careful about your figures. Also, those who are good with figures in your congregation will likely look at what you post. I doubt that anyone will quibble over a few coppers, perhaps not even over a few silvers, but…”

  Faheel nodded.

  Refaal tried not to frown, then said, “Such a requirement might dissuade some of ability from becoming choristers.”

  “Perhaps any who might be dissuaded should not be choristers.” Charyn smiled. “There’s another question raised by the True Believers. Just what did Rholan say or preach? Is there anything beyond The Sayings of Rholan?”

  “I don’t know of anything,” said Refaal.

  “Ah … there is one book…”

  Refaal looked hard at Faheel, who ignored the sharp glance.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a very old book. It’s short. It’s called Rholan and the Nameless. There’s no author listed. It’s one of the rare books at the choristers’ scholarium in Solis. It’s supposedly a copy of a copy. The copy was documented as being presented to the Scholarium in the last years of the first Rex Regis by his sister, Vaelora Chayardyr. There’s no doubt that she did that. How authentic the text is … no one can tell.”

  Vaelora … again. How could someone so integral to the past of Solidar have been so thoroughly forgotten? That was something Charyn wasn’t certain he’d ever completely understand.

  “Much of it’s said to be apocryphal,” said Refaal sourly.

  “There’s no proof of that, either,” said Faheel. “We know the copy is almost four hundred years old.”

  “A copy in Solis … that’s not useful,” said Refaal.

  Faheel smiled. “I spent much of a year copying it. I have a fair copy.”

  Refaal’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t preach from that?”

  “I already have … a little.”

  Charyn managed not to grin at Refaal’s look of outrage and consternation. “That’s very interesting. That sounds like something that all you choristers should get together and discuss, just so everyone knows the book exists, of course. Maybe you should all even come up with standards for choristers. That might also help…”

  Another glass passed before Charyn ushered the two out and then made his way to Alucar’s study.

  The Finance Minister looked up. “I hear you were meeting with choristers. Is this going to require more golds?”

  “Not that I know of. How much are we providing to the Anomen D’Rex?”

  “We provide nothing in terms of a monthly or seasonal stipend. At times, we have paid for major repairs of the anomen. Not recently, although, as you know, Chorister Saerlet asked for funds to refurbish the anomen and the quarters.”

  “I know. I turned him down on that. Do you have any idea how much Saerlet was taking in offerings?”

  “From what I saw, he had between two and three hundred families attending services. If they each give a few coppers, that would be something like twenty silvers a week. I suspect some of the factors give a silver or two each. So, say between twenty-five and thirty silvers a week. Half of the offerings are supposed to go to the poor in some fashion. Now, he had to pay himself, the assistant chorister and his personal assistant.”

  “And his valet,” added Charyn dryly, “but I doubt they get more than a silver or two a week, except maybe for Faheel. That would still leave at least five to ten silvers for him.”

  Given that Maertyl, as the Chateau Guard captain, only got three silvers a week, plus other benefits, and felt himself fairly paid, Charyn could definitely see why Maertyl had been less than pleased in viewing Saerlet’s quarters … and why the True Believers weren’t all that happy with some choristers.

  “Do you attend the Anomen D’Rex, Alucar?”

  The Finance Minister shook his head. “It’s a bit … rich for our tastes. We go to the Anomen D’Sud. I think the only minister who attends the Anomen D’Rex is Aevidyr.”

  Somehow, the fact that Alucar went to the very modest Anomen D’Sud didn’t surprise Charyn.

  Later, as Charyn walked back to his study, he wondered just how many golds had vanished with Saerlet. He still wondered why Saerlet had fled so quickly and vanished … and exactly what the message was behind the white belts.

  But at least both Faheel and Refaal seemed able to deal with the threats posed by the True Believers.

  37

  The first thing Charyn did on Mardi morning was read the newssheets, beginning with Veritum because he preferred the somewhat more balanced presentation before reading the more incendiary Tableta. Two articles in Veritum caught his attention. One was a short story noting that in the past month, some fifty men had been involved in attacks on factorages, manufactorages, and warehouses. Nine had been killed by either factors’ guards or by the Civic Patrol when they attacked patrollers or guards. Twenty-eight had been found guilty and executed; eleven had been sentenced to hard labor in the workhouse for periods from two to five years; and two under the age of eighteen had been remanded to naval indentured custody for five years.

  The second story was somewhat more personal. Charyn focused on one section.

  … in the latest incident to come before the regional justicer, three men planned and carried out a warehouse burning. The warehouse contained ceramic goods formed and fired in a large manufactorage south of Rivages. The fire destroyed goods valued at more than two hundred golds. The regional justicer levied a sentence of execution o
n the three men. Two were potters, and the third was a potter’s apprentice. The two potters claimed that the large manufactorage priced its goods below their costs just in order to drive them out of their shop. The three were executed on Lundi, despite pleas by several crafters’ guilds that the sentences were excessive …

  The Tableta story presented the matter in a different fashion.

  … yesterday, three men were executed because they attempted to strike back at the cruelty and uncaring nature of the large manufactorages that are springing up all over Solidar. They set fire to a warehouse filled with identical ceramic goods churned out by one such manufactorage and priced so low that no individual potter can match the cost. One of the three was a nineteen-year-old potter’s apprentice from Talyon. Executing young apprentice Roebin was not justice, but murder sanctioned by the factors of L’Excelsis. Roebin accompanied his brother Toalyn and the other potter, one Eramont, when they set fire to a warehouse owned by Eshmael D’Factorius. Toalyn had been fired by Eshmael when he refused to make repairs to the molding mechanism unless his pay was raised to two coppers a day …

  So Eshmael isn’t just a mercer, but he also has an interest in ceramics … and he’s lost a third building. Maybe there was a link to Elthyrd’s beating.

  Then Charyn frowned. A large ceramic manufactorage? Wasn’t that what Maitre Malyna’s father owned?

  He set down the newssheet, thinking, wondering what the High Holder paid his workers.

  In midafternoon, after leaving Alucar’s study, where he’d asked for a clarification about shipbuilding costs, Charyn heard a number of voices coming from the main foyer, one of which was that of Bhayrn. Curious, he walked down the stairs.

  Bhayrn turned. “We were just going to use the plaques room. Mother’s group isn’t playing today.”

  “That’s fine.” Charyn looked at the other three, recognizing Amascarl and Laamyst. The third young man was dark-haired and green-eyed, with a neatly trimmed but thick black beard, and someone Charyn was fairly certain he hadn’t met. So he stepped forward and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Oh, no, Your Grace, but I’ve heard much about you. I’m Gherard.” The young man met Charyn’s gaze easily, then inclined his head, before smiling pleasantly.

  “I’ve met your father, but never had the pleasure of meeting you. He’d mentioned his factorages. Do you have that much to do with them?”

  “Well … a little. Father would like us to know something about everything, but with the troubles he hasn’t said much.”

  “He was telling me that he had to hire a small army to protect them.”

  “No more than a squad, if that. At least, that’s what he said. He keeps details to himself.”

  “That’s understandable.” Charyn smiled. “I won’t keep you all.” Then he turned and headed back up the staircase, wondering about why Gherard had been slightly uneasy about saying anything about the factorages. Why had Gherard said that his father hadn’t said much? Was it the sensitivity of a family not having that long a history as High Holders? Or something else?

  Or just the unease about meeting the Rex unexpectedly?

  Charyn frowned. There was no sure way of telling, and he needed to go over the details of the meeting tomorrow with the councils.

  38

  A quint before noon on Meredi, Charyn stood from behind the goldenwood table desk in his study and said to Wyllum, “Once Marshal Vaelln arrives, you’re to leave the study. You can do what you wish within the Chateau until second glass, when you’re to return and wait outside with the study guard.” He smiled sardonically. “After the meeting is over, you may have much to write.”

  Less than half a quint later, Moencriff announced, “Marshal Vaelln.”

  Charyn turned from where he stood by the open window, nodded to Wyllum, and said, “Have the Marshal come in.”

  As soon as Vaelln stepped into the study, Wyllum eased past him and stepped out.

  The Marshal offered an amused smile. “Are matters that bad, Your Grace?”

  “Not yet.” Charyn gestured to the chairs, then settled himself behind the desk. “Wyllum is my new scrivener, and I don’t want him immediately overwhelmed.” After a moment, he asked, “What are your thoughts about the continued unrest over the new manufactorages?”

  “I don’t like the idea of the army being used as civic patrollers, Your Grace. That’s not the best use of troopers.”

  “I agree. But matters aren’t getting any better. I discussed this with Maitre Alastar on Solayi. The outbreaks are in so many places that the Collegium cannot offer much assistance. There just aren’t enough imagers.”

  Vaelln nodded slowly. “I can see that. I talked it over with Vice-Marshal Maurek. He was the field commander at the last battle of the revolt. The imagers lost more than a third of their best in that one battle. That included the Senior Imager of the Collegium.”

  Charyn hadn’t known that, either.

  “There is one aspect to this.” Vaelln took a deep breath. “The outbreaks are limited to where there are new large manufactorages. At present, there are only a few cities and towns with them.”

  “L’Excelsis, Ferravyl, Solis … so far,” said Charyn.

  “Possibly Nacliano or Kherseilles, although I have my doubts about Kherseilles.”

  Charyn raised his eyebrows.

  “The old Khellan lands … they’re … it doesn’t seem as likely there.”

  “Oh?”

  “They still hold more to crafting, and they don’t have as many rivers to power manufactorages.”

  Charyn nodded, although he hadn’t heard that before. Then there’s a lot you haven’t heard and should have. “How soon can you put the army in position?”

  “In a few days here in L’Excelsis.” Vaelln cleared his throat. “That’s not the problem. How long do you intend to need the troopers? Just putting troopers in the streets will stop most of the outbreaks, but it likely won’t stop all of them. The longer they patrol the streets, the angrier people will get.”

  Charyn nodded. “I thought about that. I may need you to let the Council know that after I tell them that’s what I intend.”

  “Can I ask what you have in mind?”

  “I’m thinking of making a change to the Codex Legis that requires any factorage that employs people who are not immediate members of the family of the factor to pay a minimum daily wage. I was thinking two coppers a day, but I intend to have the Council discuss it. There are details that will have to be worked out. I was thinking that two coppers would make it less likely that they’d hire children.”

  “You still might want to declare that children under fourteen can’t work in any manufactorage required to pay the minimum. You also need to specify the maximum number of glasses in a two-copper workday. Too many factors will do anything.” Vaelln snorted.

  “What do you think about the idea?”

  “If you act quickly, it might work. It also might send a message to the factors that working folks need to be paid enough to live.” The Marshal shrugged. “I could be seeing it that way because I don’t like the idea of the army being used for a long time as civic patrollers.”

  “There’s another problem,” said Charyn. “The Factors’ Council has ordered several hundred rifles from the rifleworks. Many haven’t been delivered yet.”

  “I’d heard something like that from Subcommander Luerryn. I don’t much care for untrained factors or their men running around with rifles.”

  “That makes two of us,” said Charyn dryly.

  Before that long, Moencriff announced, “Maitre Alastar.”

  Alastar entered the study, nodding to both Vaelln and Charyn.

  “You’re a bit early,” said Charyn, gesturing to the vacant chair beside Vaelln.

  “I thought it might be prudent to find out if you have any surprises planned.” The white-and-silver-haired Maitre took the chair. “You’ve been known to do that … upon occasion.”

  “We’ve been talki
ng about using the army to stop the attacks on manufactorages and warehouses before the outbreaks become any more widespread.”

  Alastar nodded. “And then what?”

  Charyn smiled. “The Marshal raised the same point. I’m going to try to get the Council’s support for a law setting a minimum daily wage for manufactorages…” Charyn went on to explain.

  “None of the councilors will like that.” Alastar’s tone was matter-of-fact.

  “I don’t like it,” returned Charyn. “That’s not the question. The question is whether anyone else has a better idea that will actually work.”

  “They won’t have a better idea, and some will say that your idea will not work,” replied the Maitre.

  “Do you think it might work?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I’ve never heard of either a city or a land requiring that.”

  “But … that’s what the guilds did, in effect, until the factors started finding ways to make things cheaper.”

  “Don’t you think that might be why the factors looked to find ways to make things more cheaply?”

  “I’d wager that they could still pay two coppers a day or some such and still make those goods more cheaply.”

  “You might be wagering your being Rex on that.”

  Charyn paused. “And I might not stay Rex, except by using the army, if I don’t find a way to stop the unrest. If I have to rely on the army for too long … I don’t think that will be good, either.”

  Alastar looked to Vaelln. “What do you think about that?”

  “The army isn’t trained to occupy cities and towns. They’re trained to shoot at a known enemy. I’d rather not guess. It might work out over time. It might not.”

  Since neither the Maitre nor the Marshal said another word, Charyn addressed Alastar. “By the way, I saw in the newssheets yesterday a reference to a large manufactorage of ceramics south of Rivages. Isn’t Maitre Alyna’s brother…”

  “High Holder Zaerlyn only produces large ceramic items—stoves and other … household necessities.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I also ran across something about you and the ironworks the other day.”