The anomen service followed the usual pattern, and Alastar followed his usual practice of listening, joining the chorus of refrains and responses and barely singing … until Iskhar got into the evening’s homily.
“Does the Nameless value a man or woman by how much land over which they hold sway? Or how many golds are laid up in their strong-room? By the other side of the coin, why should the Nameless value more the poor if that poor man is a beggar who could work and will not because what tasks he could receive pay for are beneath his sense of self-worth? As Rholan once said, ‘Worth is not measured by what one has or does not have, but by what one does with what one has.’ That is why imagers have a greater obligation than many others. Imagers have an ability that others do not, and to waste that ability or to misuse it in the quest for power or wealth is one of the worst forms of Naming.…”
As Iskhar went on, Alastar wondered about what the chorister had propounded. Should a poor man or poor woman be forced into labor that destroyed body and spirit simply because they were poor? More than a few imagers had come to the Collegium relatively young and unable to read or write, or with few skills. Even those who were limited in their imaging skills and ended up doing other tasks ended up with a far better life than they would have had. How much worth, even if measured just by accomplishments and not wealth or power, was often the result of chance, of the parents to whom one was born and what they did … or could not do?
He was still mulling over those thoughts as he and Alyna walked back toward the Maitre’s house after the service, letting Malyna and Lystara lead the way.
“You were deep in thought in the latter part of Iskhar’s homily,” observed Alyna.
“I was thinking about worth, about how sometimes, what one can accomplish is as much a matter of chance as choice.”
“You had little, and you’ve accomplished much.”
“I was loved and treated as well as my parents could manage, and because I could image and was willing to work hard, I have been able to do what I have done. It was mere chance that I am an imager. My father was a good man, and he was an intelligent man, but he came from little, and fortune deserted him. He worked his entire life until he could no longer work, and he died penniless. I have accomplished more than he did. Am I a better man than he was? I doubt it.”
“You are a good man who has risked his life for others. You have returned the Collegium to a position where young imagers can have a better future. I cannot compare you to others I never knew. Such comparisons are hateful. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just another form of Naming.”
Alastar laughed softly. “That is a far better homily than what Iskhar offered … and much shorter.”
Alyna smiled and took his hand.
29
When Alastar woke on Lundi morning, the sky was so dark that he thought it was too early to be rising, but the thunder and the pounding of rain on the slate roof of the Maitre’s house explained the darkness. A roll of thunder reverberated through the bedchamber, but did not rattle the sturdy window frames.
“How heavy is the rain?” asked Alyna, slowly sitting up in bed.
“Bad enough that we won’t be running this morning, and if it continues for more than a glass or two, bad enough that there won’t be any grain crops left to harvest anywhere around L’Excelsis.”
“Just as the local High Holders thought they might be able to salvage some of their crops,” she added. “I hope it’s not this bad in Rivages.”
“Your brother doesn’t rely as much on harvests, I thought.”
“He doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t suffer from too much rain. He’ll have to buy grain to feed the tenants and the livestock if it gets bad enough.”
“At least, Lystara will be happy she doesn’t have to run this morning.”
“And unhappy that she’ll have to wear oilskins to get to her instructionals,” said Alyna, swinging her feet onto the rug beside the bed.
Alastar peered out the window. “It does look like this is coming from the north. I’m going to go out and see if it’s having any effect on the river … or rather if it rained north of here and that has already affected the river.”
“You wear your oilskins.”
“I know.” Alastar grinned. “Otherwise, a certain young lady will ask why she has to wear them if her father doesn’t. I’ll wash up and shave after I get back.” He pulled on his exercise clothes and boots, then headed downstairs, where he donned his oilskin and headed for the front door.
Once he stepped out onto the porch, he noticed one thing immediately—there wasn’t that much wind. The rain was coming down heavily, but not in sheets, and it was falling close to straight down. Already, the walks and the stone-paved ways were miniature streams flowing toward the river, with enough depth that Alastar was walking through ankle-deep water. The fact that all of Imagisle had been graded in a way to assure that the water drained—and that the walls and drains still functioned well after four centuries—was just another indication of the skill and foresight of Quaeryt and the original imagers.
Alastar turned toward the eastern side of the isle, since it was marginally closer, and since he also wanted to see how the buildings on the east bank were faring. From the riverwall, he could just barely make out the east bank. The water level was a little less than half a yard higher than it had been the day before, if he remembered accurately, getting all too close to overtopping the riverwalls, and the water was definitely moving faster. That wasn’t good. On the other hand, there wasn’t likely to be another attempt at a raid using flatboats, not soon, anyway.
Alyna was dressed in her grays and at her desk in the study when he returned. “How is it?”
“The river’s rising, but not too fast, and the water level is still half a yard below the lowest point on the riverwalls. If it rises much more, there will be flooding in parts of L’Excelsis.”
“On top of everything else.”
“The rain might slow the rebels down some.”
“Optimist.” The word was said affectionately. “Go get washed and dressed. I’m hungry. So is Lystara.”
Alastar smiled as he hung up the oilskin and then started up the stairs.
Somewhat more than a glass later, after breakfast and wading through the water and continuing rain, Alastar and Alyna—and the girls—finally reached the administration building.
Maercyl was alone at the table desk in the anteroom. “I stopped by Dareyn’s cottage. I suggested that it might be best if he didn’t come in until the rain stopped. He was going to come, but Elmya and I persuaded him that the last thing he needed was to wade through water.”
“Thank you. I think that was for the best, and I do appreciate your looking out for him. I suspect Elmya did as well.”
“I got that feeling, sir.”
“Are there any messages?”
“Not yet, sir.”
Alastar nodded and then walked into his study. It was just as well there were no messages. If there had been, given the weather, they wouldn’t have held good news. He hadn’t been in his study more than two quints, most of which he had spent studying the maps of the roads and towns along the River Aluse south of L’Excelsis, when Maercyl rapped on the door.
“Factorius Estafen is here and would like to see you, sir.”
That can’t be good. “Have him come in.” Alastar rose as the comparatively young banking factor entered the study.
Estafen appeared slightly haggard, and there were circles under his eyes that Alastar did not recall from his previous visit less than two weeks earlier, although his black beard remained well trimmed. The lower parts of his trousers were wet, and the leather of his boots was dark with water.
“Good morning, Maitre.”
“You’re looking a bit concerned.”
“You’re being most polite. Let me say that I’m not at my best, and I’m likely to be even less so. That is why I am here. You did request that I keep you informed.” Estafen’s tone was sar
donic.
Alastar gestured to the chairs and reseated himself, waiting until Estafen was settled before speaking. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s simple, Maitre. No High Holder will pay me what he owes me. Every High Holder who owes me has declared that he will not abide by the rex’s denial of the petitions. Nor will any of them submit to the decrees of any justicer requiring repayment.”
“You can point out to other High Holders that you cannot lend to them if those who owe you will not pay … or are all the High Holders refusing to pay anyone anything at the moment?”
“It appears to be that way here in L’Excelsis. Elsewhere, I cannot say.”
Estafen’s reply did not surprise Alastar, but did remind him about the need to follow up on Meinyt’s idea for a Factors’ Council that covered all of Solidar—when the time came. “How long can you hold out? It’s likely that anything the rex and the Collegium can do may take several weeks to accomplish what is necessary.”
“If we don’t make any more loans, and if too many factors don’t want too many of their golds back … a month, maybe two.” Estafen shook his head. “Oh … and then there’s Vaschet. He also has declared he will not pay when his note comes due because the Collegium and the rex have almost ruined him. He sent a message telling me to collect from you.”
“One way or another, he will pay,” Alastar said quietly.
“Ah … there is the question of when.”
“There is,” agreed Alastar. “You might have to run an ironworks or sell it to someone who can.”
Estafen swallowed.
“That is,” Alastar continued, “if Vaschet chooses not to pay his just debts.” He smiled pleasantly. “I do appreciate your letting me know about this decision of the High Holders. It’s a matter I need to discuss with Rex Lorien. It’s likely he’ll be even less happy with them than you are. Is there anything else I should know?”
“No, sir.” Estafen paused. “I do hope you are successful in resolving this without it taking all harvest and fall.”
“I doubt it will take that long … but, unhappily, anything is possible.” Until it is not. Alastar stood. “Again, I want to thank you for the information.”
“I won’t say it was my pleasure, sir, but I’m glad to have been helpful.”
After Estafen had left, Alastar told Maercyl to find him a third with strong shields or a junior maitre, whoever was immediately free, to act as an escort, and then pulled back on his oilskins and headed for the stables. Even after he had saddled the gray gelding, and had one of Petros’s assistants saddle another mount, he had to wait almost half a quint before Dylert hurried up at almost a run, his boots splashing through the water, although the rain was not coming down so heavily as it had earlier.
“I’m sorry, sir. I just got word. Most of the other maitres have applied imaging or instructionals right now.”
Alastar should have thought of that, given that it was late morning. “That’s all right. Mount up. We’re headed for the Chateau D’Rex. This will be your second visit in less than a week, but this time, you’ll probably only be waiting with the mounts. Since there might still be shooters around, I need an escort with strong shields.”
“Yes, sir. Maercyl said so.”
Alastar didn’t say more until they were riding up the approach causeway to the Bridge of Desires. “Do you still have a scar from that lamp-oil burn?”
“Ah … sir, I’d hoped…”
“That I’d forget it? How could I? It was one of the first instances of misguided student imaging after I became Maitre. I’m sure you’ll remember the first time something like that happens when you’re duty maitre—if it hasn’t happened already.” Alastar frowned. “You were duty maitre on Solayi—the day after the old river port tower caught fire, weren’t you?”
“No, sir. Celiena was. But I was out that night, and I saw the flames. One moment, there was just some black smoke and the next flames were everywhere. I told Maitre Cyran that it wasn’t natural. It couldn’t have been. Thelia agreed. She said some sort of oils had to have been used, probably oily rags.”
“Thelia? Years ago…” Alastar grinned.
Dylert flushed. “I knew she was special then.”
“If you still think so, let her know you do.”
“Ah…”
“You have? Good.” Alastar wasn’t about to ask whether the two either were very good friends, sweethearts, or even more intimate. That was their affair. And sometimes friendship turned into love, as it had with Tiranya and Shaelyt, and sometimes it didn’t. What he did know was that people didn’t share appreciation nearly enough … and that he often was guilty of exactly that.
Before long, the two turned their mounts onto the Boulevard D’Rex Regis, much changed from what it had been when Alastar and the Collegium imagers had built it thirteen years earlier. Now it was lined with shops of the better crafters and merchants, and there were even cafés here and there, not that anyone was outside under the awnings with the rain continuing to fall.
After a time, Dylert cleared his throat. “Sir … the word is that Bettaur fled Imagisle.”
“Bettaur and Ashkyr are missing. So are two mounts. At present we have no idea beyond that. Do you know anything more that might shed light on the matter?”
“No, sir. Well … not directly.”
Alastar nodded, then said, “But you have an idea?”
“It’s not that, sir. Last week, I couldn’t help but overhear a few words between Bettaur and Ashkyr. Bettaur said something like it was important not to do things that gave people the wrong impression because most people never got over that impression, and that it was almost impossible to change their minds unless you did something truly outstanding. I didn’t hear more than that. It just made me think.”
“Do you think he knew you could hear him?”
“I don’t see how. I was on the other side of the wall on the south side of the stable. I didn’t even see who it was until several moments later when I saw the two of them walking toward the East Bridge.”
“Did you tell Thelia or anyone else?”
“Only Thelia, and she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone else, except you, if you asked.”
“What did she say?”
Dylert grinned. “That Bettaur would have to do something really outstanding to change her mind.”
“What do you think?”
“Bettaur might do something really good, but he’d do it so people would think better of him, and not because it was good.”
“That’s not always the best motivation, but if wanting to improve people’s opinion of you makes you do good things, it’s certainly better than the alternatives.” Especially where Bettaur is concerned.
“Unless you do things that people want you to that they think are good and aren’t,” suggested Dylert.
“That can be a problem,” agreed Alastar. “Do you and Thelia talk about things like that?”
“Sometimes. She thinks about that more than I do.”
“She’s a very bright woman. You’re fortunate. But then, you were fortunate she was around just before I met you for the first time.”
Dylert grinned sheepishly.
A little more than a quint later, Alastar and Dylert rode up the rear lane to the stables of the Chateau D’Rex, since Alastar wasn’t about to have Dylert and the horses waiting out in the rain. After persuading the ostler to let them use the stables, not that doing so was difficult, Alastar dismounted and made his way to the rear entry and then inside, where he removed the oilskin and his soaked visor cap and handed them to one of the footmen before making his way up the grand staircase to Lorien’s study.
“What’s the problem now? Besides all this rain that no one needs?” asked Lorien sourly even before Alastar sat down in the chair across the desk from him. “I’m not certain I want to know.”
“Estafen visited me this morning. He’s the one who created the Banque D’Excelsis.”
“You mentioned him earlie
r. Some of the High Holders wouldn’t repay him.”
“He just told me that all the High Holders now refuse to repay any debts to him or to other factors. They say they won’t pay any debts until all their ancient privileges are restored.” What they said was they wouldn’t pay because Lorien had denied their petitions, but it amounted to the same thing, and Alastar didn’t want Lorien focused on the petitions.
“Those self-centered ingrates! I’d have the whole High Council executed for that, except all the ones who first demanded that are already dead. They think their tariffs are high now. Wait until after you and the army take care of them.”
“It might be better to issue a decree stating that the failure of any High Holder to pay all debts owed to any party, whether that party is a High Holder, factor, holder, merchant, or crafter will subject that High Holder to whatever measure the rex deems appropriate to repay that debt, but no measure can exceed twice the value of the debt owed.”
“Make that thrice.” Lorien frowned. “Are you sure you can deal with all of them?”
“No. Not all of them. They’re scattered all over Solidar, but most of them either don’t have or cannot afford much in the way of arms and armsmen at present. Once we put down the rebels, then the army and the Collegium can take on those who owe one by one … if it even comes to that. If necessary, an execution and confiscation of lands in a few cases might make the point.” Alastar was feeling less and less charitable toward the High Holders the more he learned about what many of them seemed to want.
Then again, if Vaschet were any example, many of the factors likely weren’t much better.
“Where are the rebels?”
“Somewhere south of Caluse at this point.” That was really a guess on Alastar’s part, but he was fairly certain he’d know as soon as Wilkorn did. Since he hadn’t heard anything, it was likely that they hadn’t joined up with Aestyn’s regiment yet.
“I can’t believe they’d do this.”
“Has Chelia received any more messages?”
“Not a one.”
That tended to confirm one of Alastar’s suspicions about who could deliver messages to the chateau stables and remain undetected.
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