Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “Oh?”

  “Something about entry, during the time when my father was Rex?” That was a guess on Charyn’s part.

  “You don’t know about that?”

  Charyn shook his head.

  “That was when Vaschet owned the ironworks and he’d just built the rifleworks. Someone used the rifles to kill young imagers. Vaschet closed off the ironworks and wouldn’t answer inquiries. So we took down the gates. I ended up immobilizing him and making off with his account ledgers. That was the real beginning of our discovery of the High Holders’ revolt.” Alastar looked to Vaelln. “I’m sure you remember that.”

  “All too well. Ryel was buying rifles and arming the brownshirts.”

  Charyn managed not to let his mouth drop. “I never knew that part.”

  For a moment, Alastar looked puzzled. Then he nodded. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Your father likely wouldn’t have mentioned it. Vaelln wouldn’t have had any reason to tell you, nor would I. How did you find out?”

  “There was just a mention in some papers about the Maitre and entry to the ironworks.”

  Vaelln snorted. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but that sounds like your father. He never could be as direct as he should have been.”

  Alastar shook his head. “Rexes need to be both direct and indirect. A good ruler knows when to be which.”

  Charyn understood what Alastar was implying—that his father was often direct when he should have been indirect, and indirect when should have been direct. “I’m learning that’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “Nothing about ruling is, Your Grace,” said Alastar gently.

  Just before first glass, Charyn stood and walked over to the conference table, where he placed two sheets of paper on the table in front of each chair, facedown. After that he handed two sheets each to Alastar and Vaelln, then returned to stand by the head of the table, while Alastar and Vaelln rose and moved to the two chairs set to the side of the window end of the table.

  “The councils, sir,” announced Sturdyn, opening the study door.

  As had become customary, the senior factor, who was Hisario, given the death of Elthyrd, led the factors. Thalmyn came next, then Harll, Jhaliost, and Eshmael. Having never met Eshmael, Charyn concentrated on him, taking in his broad, almost flat face, muddy brown eyes, and short-cut nondescript brown hair. The factors took their place, standing on the left side of the long table. Then the five High Holders entered, led by Chaeltar, followed by Calkoran, Basalyt, and Khunthan, with Fhaedyrk, as head of the High Council, entering last. As head of the Factors’ Council, Hisario moved to the chair immediately to the left of Charyn, while Fhaedyrk, as chief High Councilor, stood across the table from Hisario.

  “Welcome to the Chateau once more.” After motioning for everyone to seat themselves, Charyn sat down, then let the silence draw out before speaking. “Marshal Vaelln will begin.”

  Vaelln spoke for less than half a quint, succinctly describing the massive battle off the Abierto Isles, then summarizing the results, after which he remained standing.

  “Are you telling us,” demanded Chaeltar, “that we will have no real protection of merchant ships sailing to Otelyrn for close to a year? That is intolerable! Absolutely intolerable.” He looked to Alastar. “And you and the Collegium refuse to even help traders arm themselves against privateers.”

  “No,” replied Alastar. “We have only opposed forcing imagers to engage in work that could kill them.”

  “But you’ll let sailors die and shippers lose ships,” snapped Chaeltar.

  “We’ve discussed that previously,” said Charyn firmly. “The shippers aren’t forced to hazard their ships and crews, and the Collegium will not be forced to hazard its students’ lives.”

  “It’s still the navy’s responsibility to protect Solidaran shipping,” replied Chaeltar.

  “It is, indeed, but any failures there are not the Marshal’s fault,” interjected Charyn. “That fault lies with the previous council and my predecessor, who could not agree on how to pay for the necessary warships. This council has agreed to such a plan, but it takes time to build ships and train their crews. I doubt your hold house was built in a matter of months, and likely not even in a year.”

  “We’re talking about ships!”

  “We are, and we’ve launched and outfitted how many in the last half year?” Charyn asked Vaelln.

  “Five, and another six will be finished by year end. Next year, there will be more.”

  “But you just lost almost two years’ worth of shipbuilding in that battle,” said Chaeltar.

  “And the Jariolans lost almost four years of building,” replied Vaelln evenly. “If they don’t come to terms, and if matters continue as they have, we will control the seas entirely in a few years.”

  “That’s too many ‘if’s,” snapped Chaeltar, lapsing into a sullen silence.

  “Does anyone else have anything to add?” asked Charyn.

  “Won’t the Jariolans just build more ships, the way we are?” asked Hisario.

  “We’ve captured a few officers over the last months,” replied Vaelln. “They are building new ships, but only about half as many as we are. They’re also having trouble crewing them. That’s one of the reasons they’ve attacked our merchanters. They’ve captured sailors and impressed them to crew their warships.”

  “How can that be?” asked Basalyt.

  “Solidar is more than three times the size of Jariola. Also, Jariola shares a border with Ferrum. That means they have to maintain a larger army than we do. They can’t afford to spend more.”

  “Neither can we,” muttered Basalyt.

  “There are three other matters,” said Charyn. “The first is the matter of allowing downstream water users to make a claim against upstream users for verifiable losses caused by substances or liquids added to the water. What is your feeling about what I proposed last month?” He looked down the table.

  “The language you proposed at the last meeting is in accord with current practices in Khel,” offered Khunthan. “I have no problem with that.”

  No one else spoke for a moment. Then Eshmael said, “This means any factor could lose everything if a downstream user claimed damages.”

  “The burden of proof is on the downstream user,” Charyn pointed out. “He has to prove and support that damage before a justicer.”

  “That’s a very high barrier,” added Fhaedyrk. “I’ve talked to several advocates and two former justicers. They all agree that only very high levels of damage would be worth making such a claim.”

  “Then how will it protect the downstream user?” asked Eshmael, apparently unaware of the contradiction with his first question.

  “It won’t,” replied Fhaedyrk, “unless the damage is great. As the Rex pointed out at the previous Council meeting, there is no perfect solution under law. This will merely rein in the worst of excesses.”

  Hisario looked to Fhaedyrk and nodded.

  Fhaedyrk turned to Charyn. “After consideration, it is the opinion of the High Councilors that your proposal should be promulgated.”

  “The factors agree,” added Hisario.

  Eshmael started to open his mouth, then closed it.

  Charyn knew the change to the law wouldn’t resolve all the problems, but it was a start. He had the feeling that more than a few matters would be resolved, if only temporarily, on that basis. The next two matters would be far more contentious. “The second problem is the burning of manufactorages and warehouses.”

  “That’s more of a problem than the Jariolans,” insisted Eshmael. “That’s happening right here, not on the ocean thousands of milles from here.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d lost vessels and their cargoes worth more than your warehouses,” countered Chaeltar.

  “They’re both problems,” Charyn quickly declared. “Because I worried about the matter even before violence erupted, I brought the matter of the artificers’ standard before the councils several times
. All of you decided emphatically that such a change to the Codex Legis was not warranted and that it was unworkable. By their actions, at least some of the artisans, crafters, and workers have declared that your position is unworkable. Some of them are willing to die to make that point.” He paused, then asked, “How do you feel now about considering changes to the law along the lines I suggested?”

  “That’s fixing prices,” said Hisario. “It won’t work. Not for long. You’ll have smuggling increasing, and the tariffs from imports will go down. People will still mismark goods.”

  “I’d have to agree,” added Fhaedyrk.

  “Price-fixing won’t work,” added Chaeltar.

  “Why not?” asked Khunthan in an amused tone. “You all sort of agree on price levels, anyway.”

  “There’s no way to standardize the goods effectively,” replied Hisario.

  “In other words,” drawled Khunthan, “you set prices between yourselves, but don’t do anything about setting quality standards? Or don’t want to?”

  “That would reveal too much to others,” returned Eshmael.

  “Then what would work to stop the violence?” asked Charyn, almost conversationally, even while he was fighting an almost visceral reaction against Eshmael.

  “Lock up or execute the troublemakers,” declared Eshmael. “That’s what the laws are for. To make Solidar safe.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be working all that well,” replied Charyn. “So far, from what I can determine, just in L’Excelsis almost forty men have been executed or killed and another ten sent to the workhouses, but the factorages continue to be burned, possibly more quickly than ever. The same thing is happening in Solis and Ferravyl and elsewhere.”

  “Then bring in the army and kill more of them until they stop,” Eshmael replied.

  “I think the Rex is making the point that just killing the men setting the fires doesn’t seem to be working,” Fhaedyrk said firmly, looking to Charyn and asking, “Do you have something in mind?”

  “I do. You each have two sheets in front of you. Turn them over and read over the one entitled, ‘On Uniform Compensation.’ Do not object or raise your voices until after each of you has read your sheet and until I have explained the other part of the plan.” He watched as expressions of dismay ran across the face of every factor except, interestingly enough, Hisario.

  When everyone was looking, or glaring, at him, he said firmly, “Just putting troopers or more civic patrollers in the city or around manufactorages won’t work. Not by itself. Crafters and workers are angry. It appears that they’re desperate because they can’t make enough to feed their families. That’s why I’m suggesting a daily minimum pay. If any one of you tries to do that, you’re at a disadvantage compared to other factors. If you all have to, you’re on the same ground.”

  “You intend to force us to overpay lazy workers? I can’t believe any Rex would be that…” Eshmael shook his head, as if unable to finish his sentence.

  “No. You can still hire and fire as you wish. You can certainly fire lazy workers or those who can’t do the work.”

  “How can you as Rex declare what the wages should be in each and every factorage or High Holding in Solidar? They’re all different,” declared Chaeltar.

  “I’m not proposing to set wages. I’m proposing to set a minimum wage, and to say that you can’t hire children for men’s work.”

  “You’re giving in to those bastardly ruffians,” declared Eshmael. “That’s what they want. They want to ruin honest factors.”

  “Until the violence broke out, you were making more silvers than you ever did,” said Charyn. “What the change in the law would do is to give them less than many were making before. No … for a time you won’t make quite as much as you did, but neither will they, and we won’t have factorages and warehouses burning every week.”

  “When you execute all of the troublemakers, that will stop the fire for good,” said Basalyt coldly.

  “As I said just a few moments ago,” replied Charyn, “that has done nothing to stop the attacks and fires. We’ve killed forty men, and there are more fires and more destruction.”

  “It will take some time, but they’ll see,” added Eshmael.

  “How many hundred do you want killed?” asked Khunthan. “How many factorages destroyed?”

  “As many as it takes,” snapped Chaeltar.

  “Enough!” said Charyn firmly. “I asked a question that no one here has yet answered. Does anyone have a better idea than either changing nothing or doing what I proposed?”

  After several moments, Fhaedyrk cleared his throat. “I can’t see that anyone here has a better idea than the Rex.”

  “We haven’t had enough time,” snapped Eshmael.

  “There has to be a better way,” insisted Basalyt.

  “Some way that doesn’t have the Rex meddling in our business,” added Chaeltar sourly.

  “Fine,” replied Charyn. “You can have your time, but you’ll have to handle the fires and lawbreakers with your own guards and the Civic Patrol.”

  “That’s outrageous! You’re supposed to protect us.” Eshmael’s voice was almost a shout.

  “As Rex, I’m supposed to protect everyone, not just the factors. You have a problem with the crafters and the workers. You want me to bring in the troopers to kill unhappy crafters and workers so that you can continue to make silvers. Using the army to patrol L’Excelsis and other cities will cost more golds than the treasury can afford, especially when we’re fighting a war with Jariola. You don’t want me to raise tariffs, but you want me to spend golds for your profit.” Charyn thought he caught a glimpse of a fleeting ironic smile on Alastar’s face, but he wasn’t certain.

  “The Rex does have a point,” observed Khunthan.

  “Point or not…” began Eshmael.

  “There is one other matter,” Charyn said, cutting off the factor. “Please read the second sheet.”

  When everyone had clearly finished reading, Calkoran spoke. “Why are you bringing this before us? I may be mistaken, but I doubt that there’s anything here that any of us would dispute. I admit I’m not certain I see the need for the posting of accounts by choristers, but…”

  “I brought it to your attention because I wanted you to know that there have been a number of incidents all across Solidar where members of a group who call themselves the True Believers have stormed anomens and, in more than a few places, killed choristers. I’ve been looking into the matter and have discovered several cases where choristers have most clearly enriched themselves without their congregations knowing the amount of their offerings being diverted. This sort of behavior appears to be what inspired the True Believers. I’d like to remove some of the causes of that anger. At the same time, I don’t think a Rex should be making decisions about where those offerings go. I do think that the congregations should know. I wanted you to know what I plan to do and why.” Charyn smiled politely. “After all, I did promise to keep you informed and to make you all more a part of governing Solidar.”

  Fhaedyrk turned to Charyn. “You think these True Believers will make more trouble, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m doing something now.”

  “So why aren’t you doing something about the burnings?” asked Eshmael.

  “I offered you an alternative. You didn’t like it, and you didn’t have another plan that the treasury could afford.”

  “You have golds in reserve.”

  “Not that many, as the more experienced members of this council already know. Building the new shipyard required most of the reserves. I’ve had to spend some of what remained on the pier repairs, and there are more repairs required for the river walls. The damages to the harbors in Westisle and Liantiago were expensive, even with the help of the imagers, and that resulted in the collection of fewer import tariffs.”

  Eshmael looked around the table, taking in several nods, finally saying, “We’ll see.”

  “Is there anything n
ew?” asked Charyn. After several councilors had shaken their heads, he said, “Then the Council meeting is over. We will meet again on the eighteenth of Feuillyt, unless some extremely urgent matter comes up before then.” With a pleasant smile, one that he didn’t totally feel, he stood.

  After everyone else had left the study, Alastar turned to Charyn. “You could have imposed your plan, you know.”

  “The situation isn’t bad enough, yet,” replied Charyn.

  “That could be risky for you.”

  Charyn nodded. “It will be, but neither the factors nor the workers are ready to compromise. More crafters will have to die, more young men be executed or imprisoned, and more factorages be destroyed before I can act.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because the army troopers are trained to kill, and they will. Right now, such deaths will be laid at my door, rather than at the factors’.”

  “Some will blame you.”

  “That’s another risk I’ll have to take. If I act too soon, no one will accept my acts. If I act too late, more people will be shooting at me.”

  “I wasn’t aware that workers and crafters were the ones who shot at you.” Alastar’s voice was dry.

  “I’m likely overstating matters. That happens when people keep shooting at you or threatening to.”

  Alastar just shook his head.

  “I’ll see you on Solayi evening, if that’s still acceptable,” said Charyn.

  “It is. We’ll look forward to it.”

  Once Alastar left, Charyn walked to the open window. The air outside was so still that not a breath of air moved into the study. He just stood there for a time, thinking, until Wyllum rapped on the study door.

  “Sir … do you need me?”

  “Wyllum, you can come in.”

  Charyn turned toward the desk and the papers on it.

  Some two glasses later, he left the study and headed downstairs to meet Chelia, Bhayrn, Karyel, and Iryella in the family parlor before dinner.

  Bhayrn was waiting at the foot of the grand staircase.

  “Are you going out?” Charyn didn’t recall being asked about the coach.