Endgames

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “First, voicing them right now will only make it harder to prove anything. Second, both the High Holders and the factors—or many of them—will insist that I’m doing it to avoid taking action to stop the destruction of manufactorages and to distract people from the fact that I haven’t stopped the loss of merchant ships to the Jariolans.”

  Ferrand cocked his head, then frowned again. “I hadn’t thought about that. Then … why aren’t you doing something about the manufactorage problem?”

  “Just bear with me for the next few weeks … if you would.”

  “I can do that. You’ve always kept your word.” After a silence, he said, “What does Bhayrn think about it all?”

  “For the moment, he’s been quite concerned and solicitous. Once he’s convinced that I’m recovering, I’m quite certain that he’ll be telling me to bring in the entire army and have the troopers shoot anyone who makes any trouble.” Charyn chuckled. “For that reason alone, I plan to have dinner in my sitting room.”

  “You can’t avoid your own brother forever.”

  “No … but I’d like to get a better night’s sleep before talking with him at length.”

  “How is Aloryana taking it?”

  “She was upset. She used concealments to get into the Collegium infirmary to see me as soon as she could.”

  “She can do concealments already?”

  “She’s already an imager third, and Maitre Alyna thinks she’ll be a maitre in a few years…”

  When Ferrand left a glass later, Charyn felt more cheerful, and he returned to the folder holding the poems he’d copied from Alyncya’s book.

  There was one he’d copied, not really knowing why, but which had struck him, somehow, as representative of High Holders … and, unhappily, of Bhayrn.

  HONOR

  The man who kills in honor’s name,

  Call him a coward all the same

  For honor’s but the face of blame,

  Hypocrisy of fools who claim

  That murder merits timeless fame,

  And not the Namer’s brutal shame.

  After reading it again, he considered. In effect, the poet was saying that honor was a form of Naming, because the entire concept was based on not only acting in accord with justice and right conduct, but also defending to the death one’s reputation for being honorable, to the point of killing someone over it. Placing one’s name above another’s life.

  Killing in self-defense wasn’t an honor killing, nor was killing to keep others from being killed. But what about killing to save a way of life … a way of doing things? Was that what motivated the man or men who sought Charyn’s death? Or was it sheer self-interest? More likely some of each, but mostly the last, especially given his suspicions.

  After a time, he resumed reading.

  52

  On Mardi morning, Charyn’s hand hurt more, and his leg didn’t feel any better, but neither seemed to have swollen. Since he didn’t feel like going downstairs, he had breakfast alone in his sitting room, which meant the eggs were cool, and the ham strips not much better.

  Washing up and shaving was more of a chore, as was dressing, given that he had to do all those common tasks left-handed, which made him wish that he had a valet … but he’d never seen the need before.

  When he hobbled to the study, again helped by Wyllum, he wasn’t in the best of moods. Once he was settled, he sent Wyllum back to work for Alucar.

  Unhappily, reading the newssheets did little to improve his state of mind. Veritum offered a cautious article about what had happened.

  Early Solayi evening, a group of True Believers formed up on the city end of the east bridge from Imagisle chanting slogans urging the Rex to remove all corrupt choristers. A group of uniformed riders appeared. Then several of the True Believers fired shots. Two of the riders were immediately killed, and a third, believed to be Rex Charyn, but not confirmed, was wounded, apparently not seriously …

  Tableta was, as usual, more critical.

  Solayi night, shortly after services at the Anomen D’Imagisle, a group of Chateau guards and a guard undercaptain, who was actually Rex Charyn in disguise, rode toward a group of True Believers who were protesting corrupt choristers. Several people in the group raised rifles and fired, killing two guards and wounding our beloved Rex, who was struck by at least two bullets. Neither wound is believed to be that severe, but no one at the Chateau D’Rex has confirmed or denied that.

  Is our Rex so afraid of his people that he has to slink around in disguise …

  Charyn couldn’t help shaking his head at the illogic of the Tableta story … and the underlying assumption that he’d done something wrong. Except some people certainly think so … or they think someone else could do better. Like Bhayrn? Who couldn’t even be bothered to learn how to run a High Holding? Or Uncle Ryel, who was willing to kill off any of his relatives who got in his way? Or Uncle Ryentar, who’d tried to kill Charyn’s father and then, after being forgiven, had been a leading figure in the second High Holders’ revolt?

  But then, Charyn knew, he himself wasn’t exactly without blood on his hands.

  But what else could you have done? And that, he also knew, had been the rationale of too many men and women with blood on their hands.

  What made the current situation worse was that while he had a good idea of who was generally involved, he had no idea how far beyond them the conspiracy spread, or even if it was a conspiracy, and who was a player and who was being played. Especially who might be being played. There was also the problem of exactly what games were being played, and how all the endgames would affect Charyn … and Solidar. Given all those uncertainties, acting on feelings, with even less proof than he’d had in the case of his uncle, would likely destroy much of his ability to rule.

  Sanafryt arrived in the study just before noon.

  “Here is the final draft you requested, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Sanafryt. I do appreciate it.”

  “You realize, sir, that if you promulgate that law, many factors and High Holders will not obey it, even with the penalty clauses you insisted upon.”

  “If I do have to promulgate the law, and they don’t comply, then we’ll have additional sources of revenue.” Charyn offered a sardonic smile. “I might even find that as Rex I’ll end up owning some manufactorages.”

  Sanafryt swallowed.

  “It shouldn’t come to that, not if the High Holders and factors can see reason.” After a pause, Charyn said, “There’s one other thing I’ll need from you today, and that’s a draft of a proclamation of martial law in L’Excelsis, with a curfew from ninth glass in the evening to fourth glass in the morning, and a warning that anyone found on the streets during those glasses risks being shot.”

  “Sir?”

  “I may yet have to call in the army to stop the burnings and destruction. The streets need to be clear so that too many innocents aren’t shot. And if things get worse, I don’t want to have to wait for you to draft the proclamation.”

  “Yes, sir. Today?”

  “Before fourth glass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s all I need for now. Thank you.”

  Once the Justice Minister had left, Charyn read through the draft of the wage law, word by word, line by line, but the wording was just as he had requested.

  Moencriff announced Estafen and Ostraaw at a half quint before first glass.

  When the two walked into the study, Estafen inclined his head and said, “Your Grace.”

  Ostraaw just gaped for a moment before finally saying, “Your Grace.”

  “Yes, I’m also Factor Suyrien,” offered Charyn as he gestured to the chairs before the table desk. “I’d rise to greet you, but at the moment, that’s rather uncomfortable.” Once the two were seated, he continued, “As Estafen will confirm, I bought the ironworks and the rifleworks in my own name, with my own coins from my personal account at the commodity exchange. I had intended to keep this quiet for a time, but
my being wounded has forced a change in that plan.”

  “Sir…?” asked Ostraaw.

  “I can’t very well visit the ironworks in disguise any longer, and also I need some information.”

  “Whatever I can provide, Your Grace.”

  “I’d like to know what High Holders have purchased rifles in the last seven months, and how many. If there are none, that’s fine, too.”

  “Just High Holders?”

  “You reported that the Factors’ Council bought two hundred rifles, didn’t you?”

  Ostraaw nodded.

  “Any factor could have gotten a rifle from the Council, and most likely more than a handful of factors did. If any individual factors bought rifles, that information would be welcome, of course. Marshal Vaelln told me that the newer rifles were more accurate, and I was shot under conditions that weren’t the best. I’m guessing that there’s a good chance they used our newer rifles. In any event, I’d very much like to know who might be stocking up on rifles.”

  “I can send that to you by tomorrow morning … ah…”

  “‘Factor Suyrien,’ ‘Your Grace,’ or ‘sir’ … I seem to have ended up being all three.”

  “He was a factor before he was Rex,” added Estafen.

  “Might I ask why … an ironworks? Was it just for the rifleworks?” asked Ostraaw.

  Charyn shook his head. “The rifleworks is likely to prove helpful in ways I hadn’t anticipated, but I wanted the ironworks for the manufactorage I’m still planning.”

  Estafen’s eyebrows rose, but he did not speak.

  “It’s likely to be a year or so, but I intend to manufacture something that will be of great interest … if it works as planned.” Charyn shrugged. “It might not, but I’m hopeful.”

  “A Rex as a manufactor?” asked Estafen.

  “Why not? Merely being a landholder is getting harder and harder and requires holding more and more land to get the same return … or spending much more time working with tenants and landwardens.” Charyn looked to the engineer. “Have you told the men about the increase?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I would appreciate it if you’d not mention that Factor Suyrien and the Rex are the same person, at least not until Veritum or Tableta announces it.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  “Can I send reports and papers to you here, directly?”

  “From now on. But send them to me as Rex Charyn. Is there anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then … if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for Factor Estafen, I have a few matters to discuss with him.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Once Ostraaw had left, Charyn straightened himself in his chair and looked directly at Estafen. “From what group do you think the person behind the attempts on my life comes? Workers, factors, or High Holders?”

  “I strongly doubt that any workers would attempt an assassination, no matter how strongly they might feel.”

  “That suggests they have no great love of me, but see no point in risking their lives or families to strike against me.”

  “That would be a fair assessment, Your Grace.”

  “What about the factors?”

  “A handful of them might risk it.”

  “What might be their characteristics?”

  “Very well-off, but not so well-off as they believe they should be, possibly even in a precarious financial position, arrogant, and well-connected to certain less savory personages in L’Excelsis.”

  “Why not those factors with great wealth and high reputation?”

  “Factors like that can endure any Rex, or so they believe.”

  “Then you would make a similar judgment about High Holders?”

  “Wasn’t your father’s assassination undertaken by a High Holder who could have been described in that fashion?”

  “That’s true. Uncle did believe he should have been Rex.” Charyn smiled. “Would you be willing to list any High Holders and factors located in or close to L’Excelsis who met your description? Especially those you believe to be in a precarious financial position.”

  “Your Grace…”

  Charyn took a sheet of paper and eased it across the desk, then pushed the inkwell after it. “I need your advice. If you would write only the names and nothing else. There will be no record connecting that list to me or what I asked.”

  Once Estafen finished writing a list that filled the single sheet and returned it, Charyn looked at the list quickly, then smiled. “You wrote it in standard merchant hand.”

  “I thought it best that way, Your Grace.”

  “I should have suggested it.”

  Estafen frowned.

  “You wouldn’t know this, I don’t believe, but all the threatening notes to my father and to me were written in standard merchant hand. The late Lady Ryel had once done the bookkeeping for the family shipping business in Solis.”

  “Have you received any notes since then?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Most interesting,” mused Estafen.

  “I’ve thought so.” After a pause, Charyn said, “Thank you for coming. I appreciate your assistance, your tact, and your knowledge.”

  “Is there anything else…?”

  Charyn shook his head. “As always, you’ve been most helpful. You’ll pardon me if I don’t stand…”

  Estafen rose, then inclined his head. “I wish you well, Your Grace, personally … and politically. The last thing Solidar needs is a change of Rex at this time … or a civil war between factors and High Holders.”

  All of which are possible if you don’t act quickly and carefully. But all Charyn said was, “I appreciate your help and your thoughts.”

  When he was again alone in the study, he looked over the names on the list again, which included more than a half-score High Holders, most of whose names were already familiar, such as Laevoryn, Aishford, Plessan, and Paellyt … and, of course, Ferrand, who was still busy paying off his father’s considerable debts. The one name that was a surprise was that of Ghaermyn, but that might possibly have been because the High Holder had married an Aishford. Such a marriage would have suggested to Charyn that Ghaermyn had no concerns about a minimal dowry, but then, given his mother’s comments about the Ghaermyns, maybe no other High Holder family had been interested in marrying into a commercial, come-lately High Holding. Interestingly enough, Laastyn was not on the list, which tended to confirm Bhayrn’s comments about Laastyn being very conservative in his holdings.

  He was still thinking over the implications of Estafen’s last words when Maitre Alastar entered the study.

  “You look somewhat better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Thank you, I think. How is Aloryana?”

  “She’s fine. She worries a great deal about you, you know. If she were a maitre I doubt that anyone could keep her from protecting you.”

  “Then it’s good that she’s not.”

  “Your letter was less than informative.”

  “That’s because I had to have Wyllum write it, and I didn’t know who might see it.”

  “Where is Wyllum, by the way?”

  “He’s working with Minister Alucar on the lists that we’ll be using to make certain that all factors who qualify are paying tariffs…” Charyn went on to explain, ignoring Alastar’s initially raised eyebrows. When he finished, he asked, “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

  “Don’t you think this is going to increase the danger to you?”

  “I don’t think the danger to me will change as a result of what the army and the Finance Minister will be doing. The factors want me to do something to reduce the violence against their facilities. This will do that. There’s one other matter that you should know about, and there are two tasks for which I’d like your assistance.”

  “Oh?”

  “The other matter is that on Jeudi morning, the m
orning after the army begins patrolling L’Excelsis at night, which will also require a curfew, most likely from ninth glass in the evening until fourth glass in the morning, I will promulgate a law requiring a two-copper-a-day, nine-glass working day for all workers who are not members of the immediate family of a factor or High Holder. The law will also forbid the hiring of children under fourteen, unless they are immediate relatives of the owner of the factorage. This will be effective beginning on Lundi, the ninth of Feuillyt.”

  “Many won’t obey.”

  “If they don’t, they’ll pay a one-in-ten increase on their annual tariffs, and any worker who reports such a violation will receive a one-gold reward, and the Finance Ministry will not reveal the identity of such workers.”

  Alastar’s eyes widened, slightly.

  “It may take a little while, but it should work, and the High Holders won’t back the factors on this. One aspect where you could be most helpful is to contact several members of the craftmasters of L’Excelsis. I’d like to meet with them late this week. If they’re reluctant to come to the Chateau, I’ll come to the Collegium.”

  “Might I ask why you need to meet with them?”

  “Let us just say that they don’t have a voice with the councils, and they should, just as the Collegium does.”

  “You’re wording that very carefully.”

  “Wouldn’t you, in my position?”

  Alastar offered a wry smile. “What else are you asking?”

  “I may have to make some public appearances, possibly in front of True Believers, or workers. If I do, would it be possible to have a strong and concealed imager nearby to shield me? I know it’s neither wise nor practical to have an imager protecting me every moment, but…”

  Alastar nodded. “We could do that, but if you feel that you need such protection in special circumstances—”

  “If my judgment is anywhere close to accurate, I’m relatively safe here, at least for now. I believe that, if an imager appeared here, all L’Excelsis would know it before too long, and, at present, that would not be good.”

  “There are certain implications…”

  “There are, but it will take a little longer to determine which implications are accurate and which are not.”