“You should know that. I’m glad you’re interested, for whatever reasons. As I mentioned before, and, as I will continue to remind you, I would caution you that any information you discover in the records should remain between you, me, and your father.”
“I understand that, sir.”
“Good.”
Charyn did note that, as always, Alucar double-locked the door, first using the chateau door lock, and then with a heavy and unusual padlock that secured the heavy door by going through two heavy iron hasps. Charyn wasn’t sure that even his father had the key to the second lock, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask.
As he headed for the grand staircase, he could hear someone playing the clavecin, but it wasn’t Palenya. He paused and listened. The heavy fingers on the keys meant it had to be Bhayrn.
He made his way up to his chambers, where he slid the bolt on the outer door and then proceeded to open the rear of the seemingly solid square pedestal that held a large, heavy, and admittedly less than attractive bronze oil lamp, one that emitted a great deal of light when lit, but one so heavy that no one questioned the overlarge pedestal on which it stood. It took Charyn some time, comparatively, perhaps half a quint, to remove one of the small chests hidden within. It took even longer to count the necessary golds, and then to place the few extras in the remaining chest.
Next, he had to place the chest in the sturdy leather satchel, and then he had to reassemble the pedestal and replace the lamp. Only then did he unlock the door and lift the satchel, heading down the narrow circular staircase, rather than the grand staircase, so that he would encounter no chateau functionary who might offer to carry the satchel.
He made his way to the rear courtyard, where the ostler was still readying the smaller coach. Yarselt and another guard stood waiting.
“Be just a few moments, Lord Charyn,” called the ostler.
“Thank you.”
Charyn forced himself to look bored. He doubted that his father would even notice his departure, but what mattered was getting away from the chateau and to Elthyrd’s factorage. He hadn’t sent a message to the factor because that was just another opportunity for what he was doing to be discovered, and he definitely didn’t want that at the moment. Once he had things set up the way he wanted—or as close to that as possible—then he could always beg forgiveness from his father, since, at that point, the last thing Lorien should want was a revelation that he had attempted to forbid his own son from learning more about factoring and exchanges. You just hope he’s that reasonable.
Nothing untoward happened, and in less than half a quint, the coach left the courtyard, with two guards, Yarselt sitting beside the driver, and Varyst in the rear dickey box. Both carried rifles, if unobtrusively. Charyn had a pistol, as usual, inside his jacket.
After the coach came to a halt outside Elthyrd’s factorage, Charyn had only taken a few steps toward the entry when Elthyrd emerged, carrying a leather folder. “I thought you might be here today. Perhaps a little earlier.”
“I was engaged with Minister Alucar. That took somewhat longer than I’d planned. I hope, again, that I’m not discommoding you unduly.”
“I would that a few others were as solicitous, Lord Charyn.” Elthyrd smiled wryly. “Since you’re not interested, I presume, in trading today, we can add you to the merchant members of the exchange, if we hurry. The accountants and the bursar will be there until close to fourth glass.”
“As you see, I do have a coach today. That should save some time.”
Elthyrd raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a smaller coach with no emblems or insignia, similar to many. I thought it unwise to transport golds on horseback.”
“Then we should go.”
When they were seated inside and the coach began to move, Elthyrd said, “Do you still plan to observe more than trade?”
“Until I know more, I plan only to observe. I had thought to investigate the possibilities of selling on the exchange, but I should have time, since it will be months before I have that much to sell.”
“Your sire…”
“He’s very wary of the exchanges. He prefers that I be most cautious.” And that’s quite an understatement.
“That does not surprise me.” Elthyrd’s words were droll, almost dry.
“I take it you have heard about the exchange in Solis,” offered Charyn cautiously.
“Yesterday. Can you tell me anything?”
“No. I only know that explosives and oils were used. Who might have wanted to do such a thing?”
“Almost anyone who doesn’t benefit from the exchange,” suggested Elthyrd.
“That includes anyone except fairly large factors, doesn’t it?”
“Even certain large factors might benefit from the closure of the exchange, but…” The timber factor left his sentence suggestively incomplete.
“The High Holders have the most to gain,” suggested Charyn, “but that’s so obvious that I have to wonder why a High Holder would risk doing something like that.”
“I’ve thought that as well. Time may tell.” Elthyrd laughed softly. “Then it may not.”
Shortly, the coach stopped in the turnout. Charyn motioned for the factor to precede him, then lifted the heavy satchel out. “Yarselt, you’ll accompany us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The bursar’s study is at the north end of the building,” offered Elthyrd.
When they reached the northern door, Charyn noted that there were no guards. “The guards are only during trading glasses?”
“And for a glass after, while accounts are settled.”
Inside the building, Elthyrd led Charyn and Yarselt to a black door in the middle of the inside north wall, which he opened.
Charyn turned to Yarselt. “You can wait here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charyn then entered, closed the door, and followed Elthyrd, who had walked over to a table desk, behind which stood a stocky man in a mud-brown jacket.
“Bursar Thalyr, I had mentioned to you that I might be sponsoring the son of, shall we say a very wealthy individual. Bursar Thalyr, might I present Suyrien D’Chaeryll?” As he spoke, Elthyrd extracted a sheaf of papers from the leather folder he still carried and set them on the smooth black surface of the table desk.
Charyn noted that Thalyr had a pin on the lapel of his brown jacket—a silver sheaf surrounded by a circle. That must be the pin used by those who work in the exchange. “I’m pleased to meet you, Bursar Thalyr.”
The bursar nodded, almost noncommittally.
Charyn set the small heavy chest on the table as well. “I understand the bond is five hundred golds … and that I can also deposit additional golds to my name in case I do decide to place trades at some time in the future.”
“That is correct, High Holder—”
Charyn held up a hand. “Suyrien will do. At this point, I’m only the heir, although through inheritance I do have some lands of my own.”
“Some five hundred hectares,” added Elthyrd.
The bursar looked startled.
Charyn opened the chest. “If I’ve counted correctly, there are two thousand five hundred golds there.”
Thalyr just looked at the chest of golds.
“My family is a somewhat old-fashioned,” Charyn said. That’s definitely true.
“You only want a merchant’s account?” Thalyr frowned.
“That will be sufficient for now. This is a new venture for us, and the family would frown on any immediate excesses.”
“Ah … yes … Suyrien.” After a momentary pause, Thalyr went on, “We will need to fill out the necessary forms for a proper registration of membership.”
Counting the golds and filling out the forms took close to a quint, and Charyn was surprised to discover that not a great deal of personal information was required. Apparently, large amounts of golds on deposit made detailed information superfluous.
When all the forms were completed and signed, Thalyr af
fixed the exchange seal to several of them, including both a small card and a certificate, both of which he presented to Charyn, along with a gold sheaf pin—without a diamond at the base. “You might wish to keep the card with you until the staff recognizes you by sight, Factor Suyrien.”
“Thank you for the advice … and for your kindness in dealing with me later in the day than is customary.” Charyn inclined his head slightly.
“You’re most welcome, sir. We hope to see you often.”
Charyn said little more until he and Elthyrd were in the coach returning to the factorage. “He was a little stunned by the golds.”
“Usually, memberships are paid with bills of account drawn on other exchanges or banques.”
“For some obvious reasons…”
“I have this feeling that your sire wants to keep his distance from this venture of yours.” Elthyrd paused. “You’re managing the lands, yourself, aren’t you?”
“Listening to the tenants and overseeing would be a better description,” Charyn admitted. “I have managed to improve the yield and return.”
“Thoughtful oversight does have that effect.”
Charyn had the feeling that Elthyrd’s words applied to more than the lands of Chaeryll, but he merely nodded. He was more than relieved to have accomplished several purposes through gaining a merchant status at the exchange.
Now all he had to do was keep his father from finding out too soon. Eventually, such discovery was inevitable, but, as in anything, the timing mattered.
6
On Meredi morning, the narrow covered courtyard was still damp and more than a little chill, as well as gloomy, with little light entering through the high slits in the wall, unsurprisingly, given the high gray clouds that had hung over L’Excelsis for days, or so it seemed to Charyn as he walked away from the man-shaped targets fastened to the bales of hay stacked against the wall.
He turned quickly, but forced himself to keep his hand steady as he squeezed the trigger. He fired a second time, then lowered the short-barreled pistol, and studied the targets. Not perfect, but enough to stop a man.
He reloaded the small double-shot pistol, then walked farther away, before turning and firing again, twice. He winced at the second shot, knowing that he’d jerked at the trigger, rather than squeezing it. The first shot had struck what would have been the chest of a man. The second had barely clipped the outline of an arm. He had to admit that Paersyt had been right, much as it galled him. How such a small thing …
He shook his head, then looked up as Guard Captain Churwyl entered the courtyard and walked toward him.
“Good morning, sir.”
“The same to you, Churwyl.”
“You’ve gotten much better, I can see.”
“Practice, and a little more technique. Maybe better understanding of the pistol.” That was as far as Charyn was about to go in admitting his own shortcomings.
“Every weapon is different, even those made by the same gunsmith.”
“Is there anything I need to know?”
“No, sir. I was just making my morning inspection, and I heard the shots. Thought it might be you, but I wanted to make sure.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Charyn paused. “Do the guards keep a log of anyone visiting the chateau?”
“Yes, sir. But only people who enter the chateau to see the rex or the ministers. We don’t make a big thing of it, and we don’t ask for names.”
“So if Marshal Vaelln brought another officer … and you couldn’t find out, you’d just write out ‘Marshal Vaelln and a commander,’ something like that?”
Churwyl smiled. “Most times we do find out, but if we don’t, then that would be the entry.”
“I might like to look at the book sometime.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, but ask for me. The rex is the only one who can ask for it from any guard.”
“I appreciate that.”
Once Churwyl turned and left, Charyn reloaded the pistol and moved to within five yards of the targets. He turned quickly and tried to fire immediately, without jerking at the trigger. Both shots did hit the targets, but barely.
You need to practice that more.
He reloaded once more and tried again.
Later … at a quint past seventh glass, Charyn knocked on the door to Norstan’s study, then opened the door and stepped inside. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Lord Charyn.” Norstan rose from behind the table desk, deliberately and not quite immediately.
“If you would, I’d like to see yesterday’s appointments.”
“Of course.” The seneschal lifted a single sheet of paper from the side of the desk and handed it to Charyn.
Charyn scanned the listing of names: Saerlet D’Anomen, Delcoeur D’Alte, Alucar, Sanafryt, and Aevidyr, and Maitre Alastar. The last four made sense—the ministers of finance, justice, and administration and the Maitre of the Collegium. So, in a sad way, did Delcoeur, who was likely hinting for funds of some sort, from his cousin the rex. “What was the purpose of Chorister Saerlet’s visit?”
“He did not say, but I would imagine he wants golds to refurbish the Anomen D’Rex.” Norstan’s lips quirked in obvious distaste. “The rex had mentioned something of the sort when he granted the appointment.”
Charyn nodded, thinking, It was completely rebuilt and refurbished less than twenty years ago, after it was gutted by Antiagon fire. “And High Holder Delcoeur?”
“He sent a personal missive to the rex. The rex told me to inform the High Holder he had two quints at second glass yesterday.”
“Did he meet with anyone not on his appointment list—besides you or members of the family?”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you, Norstan. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charyn was fairly certain Norstan was telling the truth, but he could easily check with Churwyl—and the entry logbook—if necessary. By comparing the log to the appointment listing, he could also find out a few other things.
Little more than a quint later, Charyn, Yarselt, and three other chateau guards were headed north on the ring road in the direction of army headquarters. Although it was barely seventh glass, there were already wagons and carts on the ring road, despite the overcast sky and the chill wind out of the northwest. Even so, no one seemed to pay much attention to the five riders, despite the fact that four were wearing the winter uniforms of the Chateau Guard. Because no one expects you to be riding this early, wondered Charyn, or because no one really cares about the rex and his family anymore?
Three quints later, the five slowed their mounts as they approached the gates to army headquarters.
An undercaptain rode forward to meet them. “Lord Charyn, welcome. I’m Undercaptain Raavyrn. If you would follow me.”
The two gate guards presented arms as Charyn and the undercaptain rode past.
“Have you been posted here long?” Charyn asked.
“This is my first tour here, sir. I’m with the recruit training company.”
Charyn looked more closely at the undercaptain, realizing that the officer was a good ten years older than Charyn himself, an indication that he had come up through the ranks, and relatively quickly. “Where were you posted before?”
“In Westisle, sir.”
“It’s a bit colder here.”
“Yes, sir. I’d prefer it that way.” After a moment, Raavyrn pointed. “The headquarters building is the large one on the left. It looks partly like an old chateau. That’s because it once was, back in the time of the first Rex Regis.”
When they neared the headquarters building, Charyn could see the lighter-colored stones and masonry in the walls, but he wondered for several moments why the replacement stones and bricks were two different colors. Then he recalled that on two occasions, rebel officers had planted explosives in the building in attempt to kill loyal senior officers, first almost twenty years before in the unrest that had led to his father
becoming rex, and then again just six years previous at the beginning of the High Holder Revolt.
“Your men can wait inside until you leave the building to tour the post,” offered Raavyrn when the group had reined up outside the front of the building.
“Yarselt will accompany me everywhere,” Charyn replied pleasantly. “The others will appreciate not waiting out in the chill.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charyn dismounted, handing the reins of his chestnut to one of the guards. Yarselt also dismounted, but tied his mount to the hitching rail, as did the undercaptain, who then led the way up the steps and into the headquarters building. Charyn glanced back and motioned for the remaining four guards to tie their mounts and follow.
Once inside, past a pair of guards posted just inside, Raavyrn turned to the left through the central hall and down a wide corridor. He stopped outside an open door. “The marshal’s study, sir.”
A slender officer stepped out. “Lord Charyn.”
Charyn would have recognized the sandy-haired and green-eyed Vaelln, even without the uniform of a marshal, from the times he had observed him visiting the Chateau D’Rex. “Marshal Vaelln. You’re kind to meet me. I did not wish to impose on your time because of my lack of knowledge.”
“I just wanted to welcome you to headquarters.” Vaelln gestured to the study.
Charyn turned to Yarselt and said in a low voice, “You can wait here.”
The guard nodded and stepped to the side.
Charyn let the marshal lead him into the study. The door closed behind them, and Charyn took in the two other officers who stood waiting.
“I’d like to introduce you to Vice-Marshal Maurek … and to Subcommander Luerryn, who will escort you around headquarters and brief you as he does.” Vaelln gestured to each man as he spoke his name.
Maurek was black-haired, almost angular, with a sharp nose, and deep-set green eyes. Luerryn was a stocky man, with thinning brown hair and a weathered face that suggested he had more than earned his rank.
“I’m pleased to meet you both. I appreciate your taking the time.”
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