“I have no idea, sir,” replied Petayn. “Those decisions were made by Marshal Demykalon, and I was not privy to them.”
Alastar very much had his doubts about that, but said nothing.
“You will, then, over the next year, reduce the number of regiments to six. You will also reduce the number of officers correspondingly. Six of the standard size, and not outsized regiments. You will provide a monthly report of your progress to me. Should you disregard this order, which I will provide in writing, it will be regarded as treason, and you will be punished accordingly. Is that clear?”
“Very clear.” Petayn’s voice was pleasant, almost as if he had expected such an order.
Perhaps he had, reflected Alastar. Because Lorien had already informed him? Or someone else had?
“That brings us to the question of the piracy taking place in the Southern Gulf. Maitre Alastar and the factors of Solidar have proposed some measures to deal with the pirates, including building smaller armed vessels and relocating one or more regiments to patrol the shores in those areas where the pirates appeared to have based themselves. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter. You first, Marshal Petayn.”
“I have no objection to relocating some forces to pursue the pirates, but that will require some additional funding…”
“I am most certain you can find a way to accomplish the tasks within current funding, perhaps by a rapid reduction in force and certain other economies. I look forward to seeing your proposal and trust it will include the movement of more than a regiment from L’Excelsis to, shall we say, the vicinity of Lucayl.” Lorien smiled politely and looked to Wilkorn.
The sea marshal did not look at the rex, but at Alastar. After a moment, he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “I understand you are proposing that Rex Lorien’s priority in naval vessels should be small shallow-water gunboats, little more than armed schooners or sloops. That won’t help us in the slightest in dealing with the Ferrans, or even the Jariolans. They aren’t building shallow-draft vessels—”
“Ferrum doesn’t have a large shallow expanse of water bordering its largest port,” countered Alastar, “the way Solidar does with the waters surrounding the shipping channels to Solis. Ferrum isn’t losing ships and cargoes every year to pirates.”
“You don’t need ships. Deal with the pirates from the shore side, the way Rex Lorien has suggested,” said Wilkorn.
“I’m glad to hear that you see the wisdom in that,” said Alastar warmly. “If two of the three regiments posted here in L’Excelsis were transferred to Lucayl and perhaps Thuyl and elsewhere around the Southern Gulf, together with a few gunboats, you might be able to reduce or eliminate the pirates, and that would increase factor support of the expansion of the navy…”
“You keep talking about shallow-water gunboats,” declared Wilkorn. “We don’t even have enough true warships. Both the Ferrans and the Jariolans have fleets far larger than ours, and Emperor Josef V of Ferrum has commissioned three new ships of the line. They’re already under construction. Gunboats must wait.”
Alastar sighed. Loudly. “Even if Rex Lorien had the funds to build a flotilla of what you call true warships, which at the moment he does not, it would take years to construct all the ships you need. In those years, our merchants and traders will lose ships to pirates every year. Each ship that is lost means tariffs that are not paid. At the very least, a handful of small gunboats able to patrol the shallow waters of the Southern Gulf will result in more tariffs, possibly enough to greatly defer the cost of their construction. At present, there would be little such gain from your warships, Sea Marshal.” As Alastar saw the big man’s face begin to redden, he held up a hand to forestall an outburst. “Over time, you are undoubtedly correct that Solidar needs more new warships, particularly those armed with the newer cannon developed during the time of Marshal Demykalon. But since funds are limited, it is prudent to develop the best plans for those warships over the next year and to begin to construct them in, say, the middle of the following year.”
“The middle of the following year?”
“Unless you and Marshal Petayn can find funding out of that which remains in the army coffers. Then it might be possible to commence construction earlier.”
Wilkorn looked to Petayn.
The acting marshal shrugged. “I have not had the opportunity to study the master ledgers in enough detail to see where economies might be made. If we could have a few days to conduct such a review and provide our recommendations?”
“That would seem reasonable. Next Lundi at this same time.” Lorien turned to Alastar. “I’d also appreciate a similar report on the financial state of the Collegium.” Then he stood. As the marshals rose and began to leave, he added in a low voice to Alastar, “Fourth glass tomorrow. As usual.”
By the time that Alastar was riding away from the Chateau D’Rex with the two thirds, he had definite feelings that, regardless of what Petayn had promised, nothing was going to happen quickly … and not at all, if Petayn could manage it. Not only that, but he also had the feeling that the entire meeting had been a charade, conducted almost solely for his benefit. Nor had anyone mentioned the two regiments of naval marines. All that left him with another thought, that Lorien was far more devious than his sire had been. Alastar also wasn’t happy with Lorien’s delay in preparing the tariff message. Stating what the tariff levels would be for the coming year was hardly difficult, although checking receipts after the fact would be time-consuming.
Alastar could see stalling a decision on reducing the size of the army, as well as what ships to build and when to build them. But what does Lorien gain by stalling the tariff announcement? Is Petayn pressing him to raise tariffs by more to avoid reducing the size of the army? That was the simplest and most likely explanation, but Alastar had come to understand that, in L’Excelsis, the simplest and most sensible reason was seldom the answer to a question.
He was still mulling over those questions when he entered the Maitre’s dwelling and made his way toward the study. Dareyn immediately rose from his small table and handed a sealed letter to Alastar. “It’s from High Holder Vaun. That’s what the dispatch rider said.”
The tan wax of the seal tended to confirm that, and Alastar took his belt knife and slit open the envelope. He began to read. The text was simple.
Maitre—
The High Council will be meeting on Mardi, 31 Feuillyt, the first glass of the afternoon at the Chateau D’Council. Your presence would be welcome, since the matter will affect both the High Holders and the Collegium.
I trust I will be seeing you.
The signature and seal were those of Vaun.
Trust I will be seeing you? Alastar snorted. As if you could afford not to be there after all that has happened.
“There’s also another letter, sir. From Factor Elthyrd.” Dareyn smiled apologetically.
Elthyrd’s letter was shorter than Vaun’s and more to the point, asking if Alastar could oblige him by meeting him at his factorage at Alastar’s convenience sometime Meredi morning.
Alastar immediately wrote a reply agreeing to meet Elthyrd at eighth glass, even as he wondered precisely what the head factor had in mind. Information about tariffs? Or Lorien? The last of the sewer repairs? Alastar shook his head. It could be any of those … or something else entirely. After signing the missive and giving it to Dareyn for dispatch, Alastar returned to his desk and sat down, his mind returning to Lorien and Petayn.
33
After the morning meeting of senior imagers on Mardi, Alyna remained in the study and laid several sheets of paper on Alastar’s desk. “These are rough sketches of the administration building that include the more feasible suggestions of the various maitres.”
“More feasible? Such as the location of studies for the maitres?”
“Also a small grand hall, one that can be used for an imager justicing hall. You’d suggested something along those lines.”
Alastar managed not
to smile. He’d only suggested open disciplinary meetings, but Alyna, he suspected, had taken that idea a step further. But it’s a good idea, and likely overdue. “What else?”
“Separate vaults in the lower level for golds and important records and artifacts.”
“Such as the founder’s sabre?”
“Petros’s men did find it, you know. There’s not much left but the blade and tang.”
“So much for its indestructibility.”
“The indestructible blade … wasn’t that the one that went back to Khel?”
“I have my doubts about its indestructibility as well.”
“You? After telling the thirds about the indestructibility of the walls of the Chateau D’Rex?”
Alastar wondered how she’d heard about that, but did not press. Instead, he said, “Tell me about the plans and why you located things where you did.”
Almost a glass later, he straightened and stretched out his back. He hadn’t even realized that it had gotten cramped. “I can’t believe what you’ve done. These are only rough plans?”
“Very rough. I’ll have to work out the foundation and wall thicknesses, how the windows will be supported, and where they’ll be placed so that the light inside is good while the windows are symmetrical, both from inside and outside…”
When she finished, she asked, “Do you have any questions? That’s what you always say.”
“I’m too overwhelmed to have questions,” he replied. “I do have some other concerns. I’m worried about what’s happening between Lorien and Petayn.” He went on and explained the previous day’s meeting with Lorien and the marshals, as well as his feelings afterward.
“You don’t usually overstate things,” she finally said. “Petayn sounds distracted. Could he be having troubles of his own?”
“Other senior officers who believe they’re better qualified to be marshal?” Alastar pursed his lips for a moment. “Wilkorn is next senior, but I didn’t sense any friction between the two. It was as if they were talking about two separate problems. If Petayn has difficulties, I can’t believe they’re with Wilkorn. I don’t even know who the other senior officers are. I didn’t exactly think I’d have to worry about the officers in the High Command when I became Maitre.” At the look on Alyna’s face, he added, “I know. I should have, because everything affects the Collegium, but I was under the misimpression that I might actually have a little time to work out the problems. I had no idea Fhaen was as ill as he was.”
Alyna raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, as soon as I got here, I knew, but by then … well … it was clear that Obsolym and Desyrk didn’t want me; no one thought Cyran was experienced enough; and no one had talked to Akoryt or Taryn … or any of the Maitres D’Aspect. With so many things left undone, it seemed like all my time was spent trying to discover what needed to be done and how … and then Ryen started in on the tariff matter.”
Alyna gathered the papers she’d spread on the desk and rolled them up swiftly, then tied them in deft movements with a red velvet cord. “What do you feel will happen next?”
“That somehow everything will go back the way it was, and I’ll have to do more of what I didn’t want to do … and be even harsher.”
“That sounds about right. Even after all that’s happened, they’re all likely thinking that you wouldn’t dare do more.” At Alastar’s expression, she added, “Yes, I am even more cynical than you, dear Maitre. Ryen was furious at being balked by the High Holders, and they were doubtless outraged that he dared to demand more from them. Petayn and the army officers are likely furious and chagrined at the damage a handful of imagers wrought. If Petayn cannot find a way to best you, in some fashion, he may not survive as marshal.” She paused. “I need to go. I have an instructional in little more than a quint.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
After following Alyna, Alastar paused outside the study. “Dareyn … do you know where Maitre Akoryt is?”
“I believe he’s in the anomen. Something about organizing instructionals.”
“Thank you. That’s where I’ll be. I’ll be back well before I have to leave to meet with the High Council.” He turned back to Alyna. “I’ll go with you as far as we’re going the same way.”
She nodded, but did not say more until they were alone on the porch, when she offered the smile with the hint of mischief. “Although we’re both headed to the anomen, I hope your words only apply to the walk this morning.”
Alastar almost missed the first step of those descending from the porch.
Alyna reached out and grasped his arm. “I didn’t mean to unsettle you that much.”
Her smile had turned to concern.
“You definitely caught me off-guard.”
“That doesn’t happen very often.” Her voice was warmly amused.
More with you. He wasn’t about to voice that. “My thoughts were elsewhere.” Even as he said that, he wished he could take back the words. “I mean … I don’t know what I mean.”
She laughed softly. “No one would believe you said those words.”
“I can’t believe I did,” he admitted ruefully. “I probably shouldn’t make it a habit.”
“Not in public, perhaps. In private, it’s … I like it.” Her words were low. She flushed. “Now I’m the one off-guard.”
“As you just said … in private … or just when the two of us are without others around, it’s allowed.”
Neither said anything for several steps.
“You’re not what I expected in a Maitre,” she finally said.
“That makes us even. You’re definitely not what I expected in the daughter of a High Holder, but then it’s clear your holding isn’t like most, either.”
“And?” Alyna spoke the single word humorously.
“I’m very glad of it.”
When Alyna and Alastar entered the anomen, he could see Akoryt standing several yards away, talking to Iskhar. Alastar turned to Alyna. “I’ll see you later.”
“I do hope so.” Her words were cheerfully pleasant. She turned toward the side corridor.
That left Alastar wondering as he waited for Akoryt to finish his conversation with the chorister. Before long, Iskhar nodded a last time to Akoryt and then turned and headed toward the back of the anomen, presumably to his own study.
Akoryt turned and walked over to Alastar. “You’re obviously looking for me, Maitre. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been thinking over my meeting with Rex Lorien and the reactions of Acting Marshal Petayn. I have the feeling that the marshal may have less than honorable activities in mind. Can you deploy thirds who can handle concealments so that they can get close enough to see anything unusual on or around the High Command headquarters? There will be some preparations for Rex Ryen’s memorial services on Samedi, but I’d like them to look beyond that.”
“I might have to use a few seconds, and they and some of the thirds would miss instructionals.”
“We’ll have to make those up later.” The last thing we need is to be unprepared if Petayn has something else in mind. “Also … perhaps some more conventional patrols along the East and West River Roads.”
“We can do that.”
After more discussions with Akoryt, Alastar returned to the Maitre’s dwelling, where he then spent time with Arhgen planning the Collegium’s immediately forthcoming expenditures.
A little less than a quint past noon, he was in the saddle once more, riding the gray gelding northward on the West River Road, accompanied by Neiryn and Coermyd.
“Sir … do you think there will be more fighting,” asked Coermyd deferentially.
“I hope not, but that’s not up to me or anyone in the Collegium. That depends on the rex and the High Holders.” And the senior army officers.
“After all they did?”
“The rex hasn’t seen the damage. He only knows his father died. One High Holder is dead. We’re the ones whose people were killed and whose buildings we
re destroyed.”
“Lots of troopers died,” offered Coermyd.
“You’re right. That has some of the army officers concerned, but none of them seems to consider that they died because they were trying to kill us when we hadn’t done a thing to them.”
“It doesn’t make sense, sir.”
It makes too much sense, given the way people want power. But Alastar wasn’t about to try to explain that, not while riding, anyway
When they reached the Chateau D’Council, the thirds waited outside in the chill air, while a very nervous footman—the one who had always met Alastar—avoided looking at Alastar as he escorted the Maitre to the receiving study. Little appeared to have changed except that instead of the four armchairs being set around a low table, the low table had been replaced by a circular table and another wooden armchair had been placed at the table. Alastar suspected the circular table was older and perhaps somewhat worn, because it was covered with a maroon linen cloth. The four High Holders rose from the original armchairs, leaving little doubt for whom the wooden chair was intended.
“Might I ask the purpose of this meeting?” Alastar looked to Vaun.
The one who responded was not Vaun, but Haebyn. “I thought the remaining members of the High Council needed to hear exactly where matters stand and to discuss what we should do, especially before we are faced with another unreasonable demand from the new rex.”
Unfortunately, Alastar could well understand what Haebyn had in mind. He smiled coldly. “Where matters stand is that the rex and the High Council will come to an agreement on tariffs. Rex Lorien has ordered Submarshal and Acting Marshal Petayn to recall all army units to their bases and not to make any more attacks on High Holders or the Collegium.”
“There have been no attacks on High Holders,” declared Nacryon.
Moeryn smiled faintly and knowingly, and Alastar wondered just what the High Holder from Khelgror knew.
“Army cannon and troopers were in position to bombard High Holder Guerdyn’s chateau when they were recalled. His personal chateau, not the Chateau D’Council here.” Alastar snorted. “The Collegium has had enough of destruction and squabbling. Rex Ryen refused to desist in his unreasonable demands. That was because the tariff issue was only a pretext for him to bring a series of attacks on the High Council and the High Holders, as well as against the Collegium.” Alastar could see puzzled expressions on the faces of Haebyn and Nacryon. “Rex Lorien has agreed to be more reasonable.”
Madness in Solidar Page 44
