“Doubtless they were … or would have if your father had remained Lord-Protector. By all accounts, Prince Chalcaer is most ambitious.”
“If Skrelyn married Cheleyza … How very convenient.” Mykella’s voice dripped venom. If Cheleyza offers herself as the tool for taking Lanachrona … she might end up the way she’d planned to deal with Berenyt … and then she might not. Mykella had no doubts of just how ambitious and capable her aunt was.
“Precisely. That might be even more to his liking than a match with one of your sisters.”
“Any suitor for my sisters will have to meet them—in person. They deserve that.”
Areyst nodded.
“Your thoughts on the Lady Cheleyza, Commander?”
“She will exaggerate our weaknesses for her own interests,” Areyst replied. “Many of those weakness are real enough without overstatement, and both princes are aware of them.”
“Those weaknesses are?”
“I had thought we should discuss such matters. I brought a map.”
“Go ahead.” Mykella pointed to the clear surface of the desk and stood. Short as she was, that was the easiest way for her to see.
Areyst stood, unrolling the map. “We have too few companies, and some are not close to full strength, such as the two in Soupat, and the fourth and seventh companies in Hyalt. Sixth Company is at full strength, but Captain Suorl is ailing. He’s ten years past the age for a stipend. The other three companies in Dekhron are also at strength.”
“That’s where Maeltor was being sent?”
Areyst nodded. “We can’t count on the garrison at Indyor, either, loyal as the companies there are.”
“Because of the distance from Krost? Or because the companies are armed and trained to deal with nomads and brigands?”
“All of that. Also, the removal of any of the companies would invite immediate attacks from the raiders and brigands in the Lower Spine Mountains.” Areyst spread out the map, securing the corners with flat lead weights he extracted from a belt pouch. “This shows the northernmost regions of Lanachrona, those south of the Vedra and west from about two hundred vingts east of Tempre.” He pointed. “Here is the road west to Hafin.”
“That’s the only way Skrelyn can enter Lanachrona, without taking lanes or marching through woods and fields, is it not?”
“At least until he nears our borders.”
“Chalcaer would have to take the highway of the Alectors south from Harmony to Salcer. Is that not close to nine hundred vingts?” asked Mykella.
“It is more than eight hundred.”
“Then he would still have several hundred vingts from Salcer to our border,” observed Mykella, “unless he wanted to fight his way through the Iron Valleys or straggle along the north side of the Vedra and amass enough barges and boats to cross. That would be far longer and more difficult. Doesn’t that make it more likely that Chalcaer would propose that Midcoast and Northcoast act in concert?”
Areyst laughed harshly, if softly. “Greed and ambition can forge an alliance of convenience, but mistrust will quickly dissolve it.”
“But if Chalcaer offers his sister…?” More likely, she’ll offer herself.
“That might be inducement enough,” admitted Areyst.
“Especially if they think we are weak.” Mykella’s eyes traversed the map. “How many Southern Guard companies could we transfer from south and the east? Could we base them in Viencet for a time?”
“We could pull two companies from Soupat immediately, and all of them for a time. We can wait a week to decide about how many companies to move from Dekhron. From farther to the east…? There are three companies along the high road to Dereka. Removing them will weaken our eastern borders, Lady.”
“We should consider shifting one or two companies. At the moment, we have less to fear from the Landarch than from Prince Skrelyn.”
“Best we do so now. It will take a tenday for a courier to reach Eleventh Company.”
“That’s the one in the way-station fort on the high road due south of Emal?”
“Yes.”
“You’d leave Thirteenth Company at the eastern borderlands station?”
“I would.”
“What about conscription?”
Areyst’s almost-hidden wince told Mykella more than the words that followed.
“It would take companies to train the conscripts … and time…”
In the end, Mykella and Areyst agreed on immediately shifting seven companies to join the two stationed in Tempre—and to basing all of them temporarily in Viencet. Areyst left to issue the orders, since it would take nearly a week for the orders to reach Hyalt and more than that Soupat. The only saving grace was that it would likely take at least two weeks for Cheleyza to reach Harmony. If need be, three companies stationed in Dekhron, and one in Borlan, could be barged down the Vedra to Tempre; but the more distant companies needed to be notified as soon as possible.
What if you’re wrong? For a land the size of Lanachrona, the number of Southern Guard companies was far too few—twenty-three companies. The Guards should number at least twice that many. Areyst hadn’t exactly said that, but it had been clear enough. Yet … from where would the golds have come to pay for supporting such a force?
Mykella shook her head, her eyes flicking to the ledgers on the table set in front of the built-in bookcases that dated to the construction of the palace. She needed to go over the tariffs paid by the Seltyrs and merchants, as well as the expenses—especially the expenses.
She retrieved the master ledger and began to study the fall summaries. In less than a quarter glass, she was frowning, noting that the Ministry of Rivers and Highways was spending almost as much as the Southern Guards was. That was something she’d noted in passing earlier, but, upon reflection, it seemed far too high. The indestructible eternastone of the Alectors comprised the main highways, as did the piers at Dekhron and Tempre. The river required little maintenance except for the towpath on the south side. But there were ten waterway inspectors …
She frowned again. She was missing something.
“Chalmyr…”
The old scrivener opened the door. “Yes, Lady?”
“Do you know all the kinds of inspections that Lord Porofyr’s inspectors conduct?”
Chalmyr frowned. “They inspect the piers and the towpaths, the large irrigation channels … Oh … the sewers in the major towns and cities.”
“Is there a list of their duties?”
“Why, yes. It’s been a while, but … if you wouldn’t mind.” The older man scanned the shelves to the left of the desk. “Here. These are the compilations of duties. They haven’t changed much since Mykel the Great wrote them out. Well … some say that the hand was Rachyla’s.”
“Thank you.” Why didn’t you notice … or even look?
Once Chalmyr had left the study, Mykella rose and pulled out volume after volume, quickly scanning them. While the books had been dusted, none had been opened in years, and over half were written in an older script that she had to struggle to make out. Is that similar to what the Ifrit had spoken? How would she know? She’d never seen it written.
A glass later, she sat back down at the desk … stunned. The most recent volume dated from the time of Rhystan, Mykel’s son, and, from what she had skimmed quickly, it appeared to lay out the duties of the ministers of Lanachrona, and even the limits of the powers of the Protector. There was no mention of a Lord-Protector. Except for one book, she hadn’t seen anything on military tactics, but there was a folio of maps that looked to be superior in quality to the map Areyst had used.
She wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t known the contents of all the volumes. Her father had largely kept her out of the study. He’d certainly never thought she’d become his successor; but Jeraxylt had never mentioned the books either, and most of them didn’t seem to have been opened in years—except for those on the shelf at desk level directly behind the desk, consisting of a thin book of maxims, p
oems, and proverbs, apparently written by the first Feranyt; the single book on tactics, with a preface that noted it had been copied from an older version predating the Cataclysm; two books on construction and engineering; one apparently on the justicing system of the Alectors; and two histories.
Mykella was still trying to make sense out of what was on the study shelves when Chalmyr rapped on the door. “Lord Gharyk, Lady.”
“Good.” Mykella stood and waited for the slender, short, and balding Minister of Justice to enter.
Gharyk bowed, then smiled warmly at her. “Lady-Protector.”
“I might not be except for you and your wife, Lord Gharyk.” Mykella gestured for him to seat himself and did so herself. “And the portrait of Rachyla.” She recalled how amazed she had been to see how closely she resembled the wife of Mykel the Great.
“You do look like her, even more so now.” Gharyk seated himself, his eyes intent on her. “How might I be of service, Lady?”
“First, by continuing as Minister of Justice.”
“I would be pleased to do so.” Gharyk added, “I will begin immediately on the legalities of properties.”
“Legalities of properties?”
“The Minister of Justice serves as the advocate for the Lord-Protector, or the Lady-Protector, and all the properties of the Protector, as well as any other interests, must be listed with the ascension of each Protector and published within a season. That includes all properties of a spouse. Annually, any new properties obtained or divested must also be listed each year by the turn of spring. This has been so since the later years of Mykel the Great. Of course, since you are the heir of both your father and your uncle, matters may be more complicated. Or they may not be.” Gharyk smiled.
“I did not know that. Then, there are many things I may not know, and I would hope you will continue to enlighten me.”
“I will do my best, Lady. I would beg your indulgence to suggest a few … reforms.”
Mykella could sense only concern … and some worry. “Along what lines, Lord Gharyk?”
“As Minister of Justice, I do not receive reports, timely or otherwise, about the decisions made by city and regional justices and the sentences meted out. Nor do I receive reports on the numbers of offenses and offenders, and I do not have enough men trained in law to spend the days or weeks watching and reporting on what is happening in each hamlet, town, and city. Without such reports, it is difficult to determine whether justice in Soupat is even roughly equivalent to justice in Tempre or in Hyalt or…” Gharyk shrugged. “The older records indicate that such reports were once required.”
Mykella nodded. “Perhaps you should draft a document that outlines what information is necessary and how it should be presented. Then you could explain them to me.” She smiled. “If I approve of something, I will certainly have to explain it to someone … or many people.”
“With your permission, I will draft just that.”
“I would also like to see if you have any other observations that might be useful to me, or about various ministry positions…”
“The only vacant ministry is that of Finance, and you, Lady, know more about the accounts than does anyone I could recommend.”
“That may be, and I will keep close watch on them, but a Lady-Protector”—she almost said “Lord-Protector”—“who tries to do everything will do none of it well.”
“I do not do well at responding immediately to such, Lady. I would request that you allow me some time to consider…”
“I would be more than happy to have you consider those who might be able and honest in the service of Lanachrona.” She paused. “You and Lady Gharyk, in fact.”
“Jylara is a good judge of character, and you must have noticed that I do rely upon her.”
“I would like to rely upon you both.” With scarcely a pause, Mykella asked, “What do you think about Forester Loryalt?”
Gharyk tilted his head slightly before responding. “He is a good man. He knows the forests well. He is honest. He may be too trusting in his dealings with the large landholders, particularly in the east.”
“You think that too many logging permits are being granted?”
“That I could not say. I do not know about forests except that they grow slowly, especially in the eastern hills and highlands. The Seltyrs of Southgate pay well for prime timber, especially for hardwoods, even though it takes almost a season to send a wagon to Southgate.”
“How can they afford that?” asked Mykella.
“They have no choice. The hardwood forests of Midcoast have been largely over-cut, and it is even farther from the dark woods of Northcoast to Southgate. Also, the Prince of Midcoast imposes a passage tariff on all trade that does not begin or end in his lands.”
Something else you didn’t know. Mykella nodded. “What can you tell me about Lord Porofyr?”
Again, Gharyk hesitated before replying. “Lord Porofyr is well-respected. He is known to be astute in his dealings in fabrics and in carpets, and he is said to have many connections with all manner of factors and Seltyrs in Southgate. I believe that Envoy Malaryk has been enjoying the hospitality of Porofyr’s Tempre villa. Other Seltyrs have as well.”
“What of his time as minister?”
“Lord Porofyr has always been interested in maintaining what is conducive to profitable trade at the lowest cost to traders. The towpaths are well maintained, as are the way stations to the west and south. What else can I say, Lady?”
Mykella understood perfectly. “Tell me more about yourself, Lord Gharyk.”
“Were my vanity greater than it is, I would say I am a simple man, gifted by birth and lands so that I could study the law. But no man is simple, much as he would like to believe that. My forebears were herders with the foresight to acquire land when it could be acquired easily, and they did. More recent ancestors managed it well, and I have had the fortune to be able to pay others to do the same so that I may live in modest comfort in Tempre. Our daughters are well and happily wed…”
Mykella listened to Gharyk’s comparatively short autobiography, then asked a few questions before allowing him to depart.
She stood, stretched, and walked once more to the window, looking through the glass without really seeing anything. Gharyk’s responses to her questions disturbed her, not because there had been any deception behind his words but because there had been none at all.
After taking a deep breath, she returned to the bookshelves beside the desk and searched through the volumes Chalmyr had pointed out until she found a thin ancient tome that described the government structure of Tempre—at least as it had been in the time of Mykel’s son Rhystan, also sometimes referred to as Olent, although the histories never said why. She began to read.…
Less than ten pages later, Chalmyr rapped on the study door.
“Lord Porofyr is here.”
“Have him come in.” Mykella set the ancient manual aside and stood.
The hawk-nosed and black-haired Seltyr brushed past Chalmyr and into the study. He did not incline his head.
“Lord Porofyr…” began Mykella.
Before she could even gesture for the Seltyr to sit, Porofyr spoke. “I would like to tender my resignation as Minister of Highways and Rivers…”
“Might I ask why, Lord Porofyr?” Mykella remained standing.
“I do not feel that I can continue in the position to your satisfaction.” Porofyr’s voice was clipped, almost brusque.
Mykella could sense irritation, as well as anger and fear, but she continued to keep her voice even and pleasant. “My satisfaction, Lord Porofyr? I don’t believe we’ve even discussed your ministry. Or has some action of which I am unaware led you to this conclusion?”
Porofyr looked at her coolly although anger surged within him. “The manner in which you … terminated one of my peers was rather abrupt.”
“Arms-Commander Nephryt? I killed him only after he slashed me with a saber. Considering that he killed my brother as wel
l, I think two such treasonous acts more than justified my action. You might note that I merely banished Commander Demyl although he was involved to some degree in my brother’s death. Or did you feel that I was too lenient with Commander Demyl?”
“I wish you well, but I cannot in good conscience remain as a ministry lord.”
“I do understand, Lord Porofyr.” Mykella let her voice become almost sickeningly sweet. “I would not wish any man to act against his conscience, especially in serving a Lady-Protector. I do wish you well.” She turned and projected her voice, “Chalmyr! Send in the captain.”
Porofyr stiffened.
“I’m just giving you the honor you deserve, Porofyr,” Mykella said in the same sweet tone she’d just used.
Maeltor stepped through the study door. “Yes, Lady-Protector?”
“Lord Porofyr has tendered his resignation as Lord Minister for Highways and Rivers. Since he has served loyally, I would like him escorted from the palace with honor. Have his personal study sealed until I can inspect it later today.” Mykella turned to Porofyr and smiled. “Any personal items you may have left in the study will be sent wherever in Tempre you wish.”
“You’re being high-handed,” Porofyr said coldly.
“Less than you, Porofyr. I’m heard not one word of respect, and you’ve seethed the entire time you’ve been here with anger and resentment at having to face a Lady-Protector. Since two others who served my father committed treason, I don’t think sealing your study until I can examine it is anything more than a simple precaution.” She smiled. “You did not wish to serve me and Lanachrona loyally, and I have accepted your resignation and released you from that obligation … as you wished. I trust you will serve Lanachrona well and loyally in your personal business.” She nodded to Maeltor. “Escort him from the palace with the respect to which his past services entitle him. He is not to return to the minister’s study, not until his successor is appointed, but otherwise he will have the same access to the first level of the palace as any other Seltyr does.”
“Sir…” prompted Maeltor.
Mykella could sense the cold fury behind the stony face of the Seltyr before he turned and left the study with the captain. Given how strongly Porofyr felt, she doubted that she could have said anything—except perhaps begging him—that would have mollified him. Even that probably wouldn’t have worked.
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