Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  1000G

  The “Xs” were so heavy that they, clearly by intent, blotted out the letters that had originally been placed there.

  “‘Ag’ with the slash following it usually means the funds were received by or the goods delivered to an agent or intermediary for a third party,” added Thelia.

  “Why would the second entry be blotted out if Vaschet never intended anyone else to see the ledgers?”

  Thelia smiled and leafed to the next page, pointing out another entry:

  5 Juyn 402

  Loan/BE

  ----

  400G

  “He had to show the ledgers to Estafen at the Banque D’Excelsis?”

  “That’s what I’d suppose, Maitre, but it’s only a guess.”

  Alastar paged forward to the entries he’d noted earlier. “What do you make of these?”

  25 Juyn 402

  100 R-2

  Ag/R

  250G

  4 Agostos 402

  120 R-2

  Ag/C/HHC

  300G

  “The numbers have to be how many units were sold, but there’s no way of telling exactly what ‘R-2’ happens to be, except that it must be made of precious silver or even gold, because at two and a half golds apiece…” Thelia looked to Alastar. “Or it could be spices, but you said these were ledgers from Vaschet, and he’s an iron factor.”

  “Can you think of anything made of iron that is that costly for each item and sold in that great a quantity?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What about heavy rifles?” suggested Alastar. “He does have a new factorage that produces them.”

  “That is possible.” Thelia paused. “But he must have been doing this longer than just this summer. He couldn’t have built the factorage in a month and then made that many rifles.”

  “Not in that short a time,” Alastar agreed.

  “There might be more indications farther back.” Thelia looked sheepish. “I had to deal with some problems with kitchen provisions so I’ve only been able to study this for less than a glass.”

  “See what you can find and let me know in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar stood and stretched. His entire body was sore and aching. While he’d had more and more times in the last year or so when his back was sore, and he wasn’t happy about that in the slightest, all the aching and the muscle pain had to have come from the impact of all those bullets on his shields at the same time. And that’s more than a little worrisome.

  He nodded to Thelia, and headed back toward his study, wondering if he’d ever find out the whole story about the rifles … or anything else.

  17

  Alastar awoke early on Mardi, or at least early enough that he was one of the first to arrive for the run around Imagisle. He was also rested enough that he did manage to be among the first of the men to finish, if further behind the leader than usual, unsurprisingly, given the bruises that had shown up on his body. Alyna finished a good hundred yards in front of everyone else, as she usually did, and even farther in front of him than normal.

  But then you weren’t at your best this morning … and she is fifteen years younger and built like a natural runner. That thought wasn’t terribly comforting, because it reminded him that he was no longer a young man, as had Alyna … and yesterday’s events. Or not so young as you think you are. He was also well aware that he hadn’t been that far in front of either Lystara or Malyna, and that it likely wouldn’t be all that long before Malyna would be running as fast as Alyna.

  He was still half-pondering that after breakfast and as he and Alyna walked toward the administration building, when she asked, “How sore are you?”

  “More aching than sore.”

  “I still can’t believe—”

  “I’ll try to be more careful. As I said before, seeing a factor with what amounted to a fortified factorage and a small private army wasn’t exactly expected.”

  “There’s likely to be more of that,” she pointed out. “Just what will you do if you find the High Holder behind the shootings?”

  While the question might have appeared simple, it wasn’t, Alastar knew. “Capture him, if possible, and force him to stand trial before a justicer.” And make sure that he’s convicted of murder and treason.

  “Do you think any justice would convict him … and if one did, would any High Holder think that the conviction and execution was anything but forced by the Collegium?”

  “Some might, but most would think exactly the way you’ve voiced it.” He paused. “In a way, it wouldn’t matter, so long as the precedent is set and enforced. People, even High Holders, tend to forget the circumstances of the past and remember the results.”

  “We may be very busy seeing that such precedents are continued,” she replied dryly.

  “Do you have a better approach?”

  “No,” Alyna replied with a short sardonic laugh, “although wiping out any High Holder who is part of this rebellion would be my second thought.”

  “Perhaps a combination … but we have to find out who’s behind it.”

  “You know Cransyr is. Finding out the others and proving any of it will be harder.”

  “We both know that.” Alastar looked ahead to where Malyna and Lystara were entering the administration building. “They look happy this morning.”

  “They weren’t so happy last night when we drilled them on shields.”

  “No … but they were so tired that they slept soundly.” More soundly than Alastar had, that was certain, since no part of his body had felt without sore spots or bruises.

  With shared smiles, the two parted once inside the administration building.

  Both Maercyl and Dareyn were waiting in the anteroom when Alastar entered.

  “I’ll need a few words with Akoryt and Cyran in about half a quint, after I talk to Maitre Thelia. If you two could arrange for that … and for a mount and one escort. I’ll be going to the Chateau D’Rex after I finish with Akoryt and Cyran. Oh … any messages?”

  “No, sir.”

  Reflecting that it would have been too much to expect any response from Lorien, Alastar made his way to Thelia’s small study. When he entered it, he could immediately see that she must have come in early, because the ledgers were spread across her desk, and she had a sheet of paper on which she had written what looked like a list.

  “Have you been able to wrest any more information out of those ledgers, anything that might be useful to the Collegium, anyway?”

  “A few, Maitre. Possibly more. There’s no sign that he contracted to deliver rifles—if that’s what the ‘R-2’ refers to—before the first sale of fifty rifles in mid-Juyn. There was a payment there of a hundred golds as well. The buyer was just listed as ‘R/ag/A/W.’ After that, there was the sale and delivery you pointed out. That was in late Juyn. He also received a shipment of walnut wood in late Mayas.”

  “How do you know it was walnut?” asked Alastar.

  “There are some things where everyone uses the same abbreviations.”

  About when Elthyrd said he’d sold some to Vaschet. “That makes it even more likely that ‘R-2’ means heavy rifles.”

  “I thought it might, sir.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Vaschet started buying soap from my mother.”

  “Soap? Why would an iron factor buy soap?”

  “It’s often mixed with water to cool and lubricate turning benches drilling into metal.”

  “Rifle barrels?”

  “It could be … or any kind of drilling into iron or steel.”

  “That doesn’t give us another factor who might know more,” Alastar pointed out.

  “Have you considered who manufactures cartridges, and who is buying them?”

  Alastar wanted to shake his head. “No. That’s an excellent idea … except I don’t even know who has a brassworks.”

  “There are two in L’Excelsis that I know of. Cuipryn is the mo
st likely. He has the best rolling mills … or so I’ve heard.”

  “Do you know where his brassworks is located?”

  “It’s on the west bank of the Aluse about three milles south of the Sud Bridge. There’s a stream that enters the river there, and his works are on the north side.”

  “Might I ask … or does your mother sell tallow and oils…?”

  “She does. I had to know where many factorages and works are located.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome, Maitre.”

  As Alastar left her study, he was thinking that Cuipryn’s brassworks was yet another place to visit … or perhaps he could send Cyran. Whoever went needed to be a maitre with strong shields. And you definitely haven’t fully recovered your shields.

  Cyran and Akoryt were waiting in his study. Alastar didn’t bother to sit down, although he closed the study door before he began to speak.

  “The ledgers confirm, for all practical purposes, that Vaschet is manufacturing and selling large quantities of rifles. His entries are partly in cipher, and that means that those entries don’t provide any proof of who is buying the rifles.” He turned to Cyran. “I’d like you to ride south to Factor Cuipryn’s brassworks—Thelia can tell you where it is if you don’t know—and see if you can find out if he is manufacturing brass cartridges for those rifles and who is buying them.”

  “I’ll do what I can, sir.”

  Alastar turned to Akoryt. “I don’t think the sniping is going to stop. They may not be shooting every day, but we need to keep maitres on duty for now. Who are the ones on duty today?”

  “Ah … Maitre Arion will be in the west this morning, followed by Maitre Alyna in the afternoon. Arion has very strong shields. On the East Bridge will be Maitre Shaelyt…”

  Alastar hadn’t realized Alyna would be on duty immediately, although she had mentioned on Solayi that she would be one of the monitors on Mardi. He listened until Akoryt was through. “Good. There’s one other thing. Do you have some thirds with good shields and who can hold at least blurring concealments for a good time?”

  “Three or four … maybe one or two others.”

  “I’d like them to watch the Chateau D’Council and take notes on every High Holder who visits for the next few days. They’ll have to note livery colors, and a number of other details to determine who the High Holders are.”

  Akoryt frowned. “Even so…”

  “I can help some. Ryel’s colors are black and silver. I’ll write down that and the others I know in a moment. If High Holders are behind this, it’s likely some might actually visit Cransyr. Then, they might not, but at the moment, we don’t have much else to go on.”

  “I can see that.”

  “After we finish here, I’m headed out to see the rex. He might actually be there this morning.”

  “I think I’d rather see Factor Cuipryn,” said Cyran dryly.

  Alastar and Konan crossed the Bridge of Desires at two quints before eighth glass, later than Alastar would have liked, given the time it had taken him to write the listing on High Holders. As he turned his mount onto the Avenue D’Rex Ryen, he noticed the wall of gray clouds to the northwest. Three glasses before the rain arrives? He doubted that he’d be at the Chateau D’Rex anywhere near that long, not given Lorien’s apparent desires to avoid meeting with him.

  Just before they reached the ring road around the chateau, Alastar turned to Konan. “We’ll use blurring concealments from here until we rein up at the chateau.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the third, if raising his eyebrows in question.

  “The rex often seems to find other pursuits when his guards inform him that I am on the ring road riding toward the chateau.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar kept his smile to himself.

  No sooner had Alastar dropped the blurring shield at the chateau entrance than Guard Captain Churwyl immediately appeared hurrying down the stone steps.

  “Good morning, Captain,” offered Alastar cheerfully.

  “The rex is not expecting you, is he?” asked Churwyl.

  “He should be expecting me, although he hasn’t requested my presence.”

  “Should I announce you?”

  “Not until I’m at the door to his study,” replied Alastar as he dismounted and handed the gray’s reins to Konan. As if to punctuate Alastar’s words, the gelding whuffed. From the corner of his eyes, Alastar caught Konan’s inadvertent smile.

  Churwyl trudged up the steps beside Alastar and then through the entry hall and to the grand staircase.

  Surprisingly, at the top stood Chelia, wearing a blue riding jacket and trousers. “You apparently avoided his lookouts, Maitre.”

  “I thought there might be a few. I shouldn’t be that long. Not long enough to delay your ride by much.”

  “He may change his mind about riding … now.”

  “He might, indeed,” agreed Alastar. “If you were looking forward to it, I do apologize, but it might be for the best, since it may rain in a few glasses.”

  “Don’t let me keep you, Maitre.”

  Alastar nodded and headed for the north corridor, absently wondering why Chelia had made a point of being there. To let you know that Lorien was indeed trying to avoid you? Without saying a word about it? That was certainly possible.

  At the door to the study, Alastar turned to the guard captain.

  “Maitre Alastar, Your Grace,” announced Churwyl.

  Alastar did not wait for Lorien’s response but opened the door himself, stepped into the study, and closed the door.

  “You might have had the courtesy to request a meeting?”

  “So that it could be postponed, delayed, or avoided? No, thank you.” Alastar dropped into the chair across the goldenwood desk from Lorien. “I haven’t heard anything about those petitions.”

  “I’m still considering them.”

  “Don’t. Rule against the High Holders in all cases.”

  “That’s easy enough for you to say.”

  “So far I’ve had three young imagers shot and killed and others wounded. It’s almost a certainty that High Holders are behind it. High Holder Laevoryn killed Chief Factor Hulet and claims it was self-defense. Whether you want to admit it or not, the High Holders are beginning a rebellion to void all the limits placed on them by the Codex Legis. They’re also obviously trying to weaken or destroy the Collegium. Neither set of actions will benefit you … or Solidar.”

  “That may be … but there’s no proof of who’s doing all this.”

  “The High Holder petitions are proof enough. Your own Minister of Justice knows that.”

  “Sanafryt doesn’t wish to sign an opinion at present.”

  “So they’ve threatened him as well?”

  “He just says I should sign the opinion. I’m not an advocate.”

  No … just Rex Regis. “You are the final authority.”

  “That may be, but … there are so many ramifications, Maitre. So many … and all lead to differing trials. I’m so tired of no one being happy with anything.”

  “The High Holders won’t be happy with anything. You give in, and they’ll just want more, and before long you’ll have a civil war, and then no one will be happy.”

  “No one’s happy now.”

  “Many of the people are happy … or at least content that Solidar is not in turmoil. They’re the ones you don’t hear from. The ones who complain are those with wealth and power, and they always want more, except tariffs, and there, they always want lower levies.”

  “That doesn’t lessen the trials.”

  Alastar nodded, even though he wanted to squeeze shields around Lorien or dowse him with ice water. He also wondered, not for the first time, how Chelia put up with Lorien. “It doesn’t, but you still need to deny those petitions … and fairly soon.”

  “I’ll do it in my own good time. You want them denied sooner, you take over as rex.”

  “You know that won’t work.” />
  “Then stop badgering me.”

  Alastar decided not to press directly. “There’s another matter about the shootings of my imagers. I’d be curious to know if Marshal Wilkorn ordered new heavy rifles for the army.”

  “That’s absurd!” Lorien’s voice rose. “You’re suggesting that the army…”

  Alastar shook his head. “I’m just trying to figure out why Vaschet built a new factorage to manufacture rifles. If Wilkorn ordered newer rifles—”

  “He didn’t.” Lorien frowned. “I suppose you need to know. One of his subcommanders did. He ordered a thousand. He didn’t have the authority, and the army didn’t need any more, except for a few for sharpshooters. Wilkorn canceled the order, except for fifty of them. We had to pay Vaschet an extra hundred golds for the cancellation. He complained bitterly that he’d built a new factorage based on the order and that we ought to pay for that. Wilkorn said an indemnity payment of a hundred golds was more than enough. Alucar said it was far too much.”

  “If the army didn’t need the rifles…”

  “There was some confusion about that. Wilkorn insisted that he’d never approved it. The subcommander insisted he had an order with Wilkorn’s signature. I wouldn’t even have found out about it except that Alucar asked why the army was paying Vaschet damages. Wilkorn wanted to relieve the subcommander, but decided against it after we reviewed the matter.”

  “Do you remember who the subcommander was?”

  “Do you expect me to remember that? I don’t even know who’s in charge of the Collegium after you and Cyran … and I suppose your wife, since she’s also a Maitre D’Esprit. I know Wilkorn, Vice Marshal Vaelln, and Sea Marshal Tynan. I’d recognize other names if I saw them, of course.”

  Alastar had his doubts that Lorien was that ignorant. “I’m sure you know a few more than that, after all these years.”

  Lorien dismissed Alastar’s words with a gesture, then smiled. “There’s one other disturbing matter, Maitre. The factor Vaschet has lodged a complaint against you with the High Justicer.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “He claims you destroyed the gates to his ironworks, and killed several guards, as well as stole his ledgers. Not to mention assaulting him.”