Lady-Protector

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  She glanced at Byrnyt, noting that the inspector was working not to cough or choke on the fumes. Mykella decided not to pursue all her questions at that moment, not until Byrnyt had seen everything she had in mind, and they continued southward, entering before long the area filled with metalworks. There, the smoke and haze grew stronger and more acrid. The river still held a bluish shimmer downstream from the partly submerged pipes.

  Mykella pointed. “Does that not appear to be oil on the river?”

  “Yes, Lady, but oil is not permitted in the sewers, and I have reported this on more than one occasion.”

  “And what of the rendering yards?” she asked.

  “Those … I have reported, but they are not sewer problems. They are river problems, and I have reported them.”

  Mykella could barely keep from lashing out at the supercilious Byrnyt by the time they had finished her reinspection of the area bordering the South River. Instead, when they finally left the metalworking section of Tempre behind, she continued to ride toward the inn and square to the south.

  Before long, some two blocks north of the square and the inn, she began to scent the odor of human wastes. “Do you smell that, Inspector? Does that odor not suggest the sewers are in less-than-good repair?”

  “It is not the sewers, Lady. Those are wastes that were not washed into the sewers. Some of those who own buildings have not refitted them with drains.”

  “And you have done nothing?”

  “I have reported those failures, Lady.”

  Mykella did not pursue that … yet. The streets were not the place for a detailed questioning, at least not until she had completed conducting Byrnyt on her “inspection tour.” So she turned the gelding westward, then back northwest toward the poorer section closer to the Grand Piers, where she had smelled rather pungent odors before.

  When they reached the older houses holding too many families, she looked to the inspector, noting that his nose was twitching. “The sewers?”

  “No, Lady. The sewers are not being used.”

  Mykella had had enough. She reined up and turned to Byrnyt. “I trust you can see why I am concerned about the sewers in all these parts of Tempre.”

  “Lady-Protector … the sewers are in excellent condition. Neither the metalworking facilities nor the renderers are allowed to discharge into the sewers, and they are not. Here, the owners have refused to change their buildings to use the sewers.”

  “Is it not your duty as chief inspector to ensure that they do not place wastes in the river? Or that people use them properly?”

  “Begging your pardon, Lady-Protector, but my authority is limited to the sewers. The metal factorages know that all too well. So do the landlords.”

  Mykella wanted to scream. “Exactly who does have the authority to make them comply?”

  “I do not know, Lady … only that I do not.”

  Mykella could sense two things—that Byrnyt believed he was telling the truth and that he was close to trembling with fear. She forced herself to wait for several moments and to speak calmly. “You said you have reported this problem. How often have you reported it?”

  “Yes, Lady-Protector. I have reported it to the Minister of Highways and Rivers at the beginning and middle of every year since I became chief inspector.”

  “How long have you been chief inspector?”

  “Six years at last year-turn.”

  Mykella forced herself to nod slowly, and say, “Thank you, Inspector. I appreciate your honesty in clarifying what your responsibilities are.” She looked to Maeltor. “Captain, if you would have a guard accompany the inspector back to his place, then return to the palace with the spare mount.”

  “Yes, Lady.” Maeltor turned. “Shultyn, forward!”

  As Mykella rode back toward the palace, she considered what she had learned. First, she’d come perilously close to making a total fool of herself … and perhaps she had, all because she hadn’t totally understood who controlled what. Second, she’d need to send a letter, not exactly of apology, but one expressing her appreciation of Byrnyt’s patience and willingness to explain matters. And she hated making mistakes like that. The most depressing aspect was that all she’d wanted to do was to make things better in Tempre.

  Once she was back in her study, still half-seething, half-brooding, she started to reach for the book that held the rules for sewers and rivers, then stopped.

  Did she have to look up everything? She shook her head. In moments, she was headed down to the lower level of the palace to Lord Gharyk’s study.

  The diminutive Gharyk was there. Before he even finished standing, Mykella launched into her problem. “Lord Gharyk … I’ve been riding through Tempre and found a number of instances where wastes are being dumped into the South River and landlords are not connecting their buildings properly to the sewers. When I brought the matter to the attention of the chief sewer inspector, he informed me that he has been reporting improper handing of wastes from metalworks and renderers for years, as well as reporting on landlords who have not complied. He claims that under the Charter of the Protector, he has no authority to force the factorages to comply. Can you tell me whether that is correct, and, if so, what ministry has the authority to do anything about it?”

  Gharyk offered a sad smile. “Lady … Minister Porofyr made the same reports to me. I requested that the local patrollers shut down the factorages. They did. Both the Seltyrs and the factors complained. Your uncle came and told me that your father had overruled me and said that I could not keep them from their business because we would lose their tariffs. I went to your father directly, and he said that he trusted Lord Joramyl’s judgments.”

  Mykella just stood there. Gharyk was telling the truth. He regretted doing so, but what he said was true. She swallowed. Will you ever get past all the problems Joramyl created?

  Except, she realized, her father had done little to stop Joramyl. Why not? Because he didn’t care, or because Joramyl told him that the Seltyrs would rebel and refuse to pay their tariffs? Would they now? She would have snorted had she not been in Gharyk’s study. Was there any doubt that they’d threaten her in the same way? None at all, not the way Khanasyl is already acting. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d been wrong about who was responsible. It had been her own father, and that saddened her even more.

  “Lady?” inquired Gharyk softly.

  “I was just thinking. What other hidden threats have the Seltyrs made?” She turned her eyes on the Justice Minister.

  “They conveyed what they believed, Lady. They would be most outraged if anyone called what they said threats.” An ironic smiled followed his words.

  “They seem to get outraged whenever they fail to get their way, and sometimes it appears that they can be rather vindictive. Did you know that someone set fire to one of High Factor Hasenyt’s warehouses? And that the man who did so hung himself in the gaol within glasses, and his brother’s body was dismembered?”

  “I could not say that I am surprised. Lady … as I told you earlier, I do not receive the reports on what happens in the gaol and in the city and town justicing halls, but I have received enough information of the sort you have mentioned. I have been able to do little, for reasons of which you are aware. You are most impressive. They do not know just how impressive, and until they learn that, they will continue as they have done in the past—as their ancestors did until Mykel the Great forced them into line. It has been many years since the Seltyrs of Tempre have faced a strong Protector, and never one who is a woman.”

  Mykella’s irritation faded as she listened to his calm words. Finally, she nodded. “Thank you. I needed that reminder.”

  “Lady … your father was a good man, but he was not as strong as he needed to be. Your uncle was strong, but neither good nor wise, and you have inherited a difficult situation.”

  Mykella offered a wry, if tight, smile. “I find I’m discovering that, more so every day.”

  Gharyk nodded.


  After a moment, she asked, “Under the Charter, what power do I have to punish a lawbreaker?”

  Gharyk smiled, pleased that she had asked the question, then said, “The Charter contains a most interesting clause in that regard. The Protector of Tempre has the right to pass judgment on anyone whose acts threaten or have threatened the well-being of Lanachrona, but any sentence the Protector carries out must either be meted out personally by the Protector without weapons in hand or carried out by others after a hearing before a justicer.”

  For several moments, Mykella was absolutely silent. “The Charter says that?”

  Gharyk turned and stepped to the bookcase, from which he extracted a thin bound book. He opened it and flipped through several pages before extending it to her. “The second paragraph. This provision was added by Mykel the Great, but the Seltyrs all approved it. It has never been changed … for obvious reasons.”

  Mykella understood perfectly. If a Lord-Protector had Talent, no one would dare to change it, and if he did not, there was no need to. “Thank you,” she said again, before turning and leaving.

  As she hurried back to the upper level of the palace, she wanted to shake her head even as she considered what Gharyk had told her. She had almost reached the door to the antechamber when Salyna hurried up.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” began her sister. “I wanted to ask you … What is it, Mykella? You look terrible.”

  “The more I look into things, the more I discover how bad they are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Should I tell her? Mykella took a deep breath. “You’d better come into the study.”

  Chalmyr stood as the sisters entered the outer chamber. “Lady … when you are free, I have drafted some correspondence.”

  “Thank you. We won’t be too long.” Once inside the study, Mykella made sure the door was closed, then walked toward the windows, glancing momentarily beyond the palace grounds to the park, still bedraggled and shabby without the redeeming grace of spring’s greening.

  “What is it?” asked Salyna.

  “You know all about the golds from the tariffs … I told you about those … before…” Mykella looked to her younger sister. “There’s more … worse.” She went on to explain about all the missing golds, about the timber sales, and about the sewers and what Gharyk had told her about the Seltyrs—but not the lord’s judgments of their father and uncle.

  “How could that be? How?”

  Mykella just waited.

  “It is … isn’t it?” Salyna finally said. “Oh … poor Father.”

  “It explains more why Joramyl acted as he did.” Mykella shook her head. “It was wrong. He should have tried to help Father.”

  “Maybe he did … until Cheleyza … She was evil. I never trusted her.”

  “That’s possible.” Except that Joramyl was allowing the factors to break the law years before he married Cheleyza. “I doubt we’ll ever know for sure.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Whatever I must. What else can I do?”

  After Salyna left, Mykella walked to the window of the study. She couldn’t help but still wonder why Duchael requested golds for sewer repairs if the problems didn’t lie in the sewers. She turned to call Chalmyr. At least, she could deal with correspondence, and she needed to draft that letter to Inspector Byrnyt and have it dispatched quickly.

  16

  Standing beside her desk in the formal study, for the second time Mykella read through the missive that had arrived earlier on Sexdi morning, marveling at how much she disliked Seltyr Khanasyl after one short meeting and one set of words in ink.

  … since you were so kind as to request our suggestions for a Minister of Highways and Rivers, we have discussed the matter with a number of others …

  Other Seltyrs, no doubt.

  … and have decided to offer several names for your consideration, believing that you will be able to select the one that best suits the needs of the ministry …

  In other words, you’d better choose one of them.

  … Seltyr Pualavyn, Seltyr Thaen, and Seltyr Klevytr all would bring exceptional qualities to the position, as well as a thorough understanding of the needs of all those in commerce in Tempre and Lanchrona …

  They’ll all do what you want, and if I refuse to name one of them, you’ll make certain that everyone knows how stupid and willful I am. Mykella shook her head and extended the missive to Chalmyr.

  “Do you wish to reply, Lady?” asked the scrivener as he took the heavy paper.

  “If you would draft a suitably flowery response telling the good Seltyr how very much I appreciate his interest and his counsel and how he will be among the very first to know once I’ve made my decision as to whom I will appoint to become Minister of Highways and Rivers … Oh … and tell him that I am awaiting a response from the High Factors as well.”

  The scrivener smiled and nodded. “I will have a reply for you within the glass.”

  “The letter to Inspector Byrnyt was dispatched?” Mykella thought it had been, but wanted to make certain. She still hated admitting, even indirectly, that she was wrong.

  “Yesterday, Lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Chalmyr had closed the study door, Mykella glanced toward the window, glad that the day was bright and sunny, even if her feelings were not. What was she going to do about the sewers? Should she do anything at all at the moment?

  Probably not. They’ll have to wait. You can’t afford to get the Seltyrs more upset, especially when most of the Southern Guards from Tempre is in Viencet getting retrained, not that they’ll actually resort to arms.

  Still … it irritated her.

  She took a deep breath. She needed to talk to Duchael and Cerlyk about why their respective ministries wanted more golds, but that could wait at least until she calmed down. Unless their requests were far more urgent than she suspected, they’d have to be deferred. With a possible invasion from the west, all available golds would need to go to the Southern Guards.

  Her thoughts went back to the section of the Charter Gharyk had shown her. She’d checked the copy of the Charter in the study bookcase, and that wording was there as well, under the section entitled “Powers Reserved to the Protector.”

  That explained several things, including the lack of complaint at her means of becoming Lady-Protector … because by executing traitors without “weapons in hand,” she’d effectively proved she was the Protector. While it was good to know she had that power under the Charter, it wasn’t something to be used lightly.

  Still …

  The door opened, and Salyna stepped inside.

  “I’ve been thinking, Mykella.” The blonde slipped into one of the chairs before the desk.

  “About what?”

  “Training women to be guards. We wouldn’t call them that. We’d call them auxiliaries or something like that … at first, anyway. If we started now, we could have a squad or two partly ready before summer, and that would free more guards if Skrelyn does attack.”

  “Have you been recruiting already?” Mykella couldn’t help but offer the faintest of amused smiles.

  “Not really. I have talked to some of the servingwomen and sculls. I asked them to see what their families and friends thought. Some of them thought it was a bad idea, and some didn’t. This morning, Muergya and Zestela told me that they knew almost a score of women who wanted to know when it might happen.”

  “Would they be interested if they didn’t get paid much until they finished training? The men don’t, you know?”

  “They don’t make much now. Some don’t make anything.”

  I should have thought of that, Mykella realized. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Areyst. We just might need every guard we can find. Is there anything else he should know or think about?”

  “Size doesn’t matter nearly so much if you can ride and shoot a rifle accurately.”

  “I think you’ve proved that, even to the commander.”


  “You might remind him.”

  Mykella laughed. After a moment, she asked, “How is Rachylana doing?”

  “She’s better. It was a good idea to have her organize the ball.” Salyna stood. “I need to go. Commander Areyst will be here before long.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was on the first level checking on the duty guards.” With that, Salyna headed out of the study.

  As Salyna predicted, the study door did not remain closed for all that long.

  “Commander Areyst, Lady.” Chalmyr did not so much ask as announce and open the door for the officer.

  “Lady.” Areyst stepped into the study, bowed, then straightened and raised his eyes to meet hers.

  As always, Mykella found herself slightly shocked when she looked into his pale green eyes and felt the warmth beneath the formality. Her own feelings of attraction vanished as she saw the gravity in his face and sensed concerns he had yet to voice. “Yes, Commander?”

  “I regret that I must report that the Ifrits attacked and have taken over the summer villa of Seltyr Klevytr. One of the retainers escaped and ran to the highway. He waved down a Southern Guard messenger.”

  Although Mykella had just read Khanasyl’s missive recommending Klevytr, other than a vague recollection of the Seltyr’s name, Mykella knew nothing about the man although she thought he was younger and had recently inherited from an uncle. After all the business with Khanasyl and the ministry, why did it have to be Klevytr’s villa? “Just three of them?”

  “The villa is used little until summer, I understand, and much of the household staff was here in Tempre. With the weapons the Ifrits have…” He shrugged.

  “Where exactly is the villa of Seltyr Klevytr?”

  “Some fifteen vingts to the west of Tempre, in the rolling plains on the south side of the southwest highway.”