“You doubt that? Look at Maitre Malyna. She is more powerful than almost all men, and she can choose whether to marry and whom to marry. Does any woman besides an imager have that power and freedom?”
Charyn smiled wryly. “I think you’d like to be an imager.”
“Any woman in Solidar would. If any even dared to think about it. The rest of us don’t have that choice. Aloryana was lucky.”
“Most imagers aren’t from highborn families,” Charyn pointed out.
“Even those who come from highborn families are better off as imagers. No one here even knew that Malyna had become an imager. Obviously, no one cared. Did you not ask others about her?”
Charyn nodded. Even Ferrand hadn’t known Malyna’s name. He’d known a great deal about High Holder Zaerlyn and the family, but only that there had been a much younger daughter.
“Well?” asked Palenya, an amused expression on her face. “What did they say?”
“No one even knew her name, only that High Holder Zaerlyn had a much younger daughter.”
“And she came from a powerful family. Those girls who become imagers from poorer families are even more fortunate. They live better than any but the wealthiest. They can decide whether to marry or not … and whom. They are respected because they are powerful. They live where they are safe and do not have to bow to any man.”
“I don’t make you bow.”
“You do not, but your position does.”
Charyn winced.
For several long moments, Palenya did not speak. Finally, she said, “Now that Aloryana is gone, when will I be departing?”
“Do you want to leave? Have I been cruel or … otherwise?”
“I am not your future. We both know that.”
“You may not be my future, but that does not mean you do not have a future here at the chateau.”
“Once you decide to marry, I will not be your mistress. That would not be fair to her or to me.”
“I haven’t even considered being married.”
“You should. Choose carefully. Otherwise all of us will suffer.”
“I may have to make that choice. I’m in no hurry to do so, and I’m certainly not about to push you out, either now or then.”
“It would be awkward if I stayed.”
“I also understand that, but we’re nowhere close to that right now, and I still need your support and insight.”
“You don’t ask that often.”
“I should ask more.” He took another biscuit and ate it, then said, “I now have a personal secretary to help me with all the papers and petitions. His name is Howal.”
“Was he the one in the black jacket?”
“He was wearing that today.”
“How do you know you can trust him?”
Charyn smiled wryly. “Because he’s been found trustworthy by those who have my survival and interests at heart.”
Palenya raised both eyebrows.
“There are a few. Not many, I know.” He took another swallow of tea. “Will you play the Farray duet with me? I know I’m not nearly as good as you, but I do like the piece.”
“I’d like that. You could be good enough to become a musician. I told you that before.”
“But I’d only be good, not great.”
“Is it so bad to be only good?”
Charyn had to laugh at her look of gentle amusement. “No. It’s better to be great, but … I suppose I’d like to be better than good at something.”
“No one will ever call a rex good. No matter how many good things he does. Not until he is safely dead.”
“You’re right about that.” Charyn smiled.
“You are rex now. Is there some ceremony…?”
Charyn shook his head. “That would be a form of Naming.”
“But there will be a memorial service…”
“That is to recognize who my father was, not the power of his position.”
Slowly, Palenya nodded. “I had not thought of it in that way.”
Looking at Palenya, Charyn felt that she was not as wary as she’d been when she had entered the sitting room. He hoped he was right.
27
The family parlor seemed almost empty when Charyn met his brother and mother there just before dinner.
“I haven’t seen that much of you today,” observed Chelia, “except to introduce that young man who is your personal secretary.”
“As if you needed one,” murmured Bhayrn.
“That happens when you have to do things you don’t know enough about.” Charyn ignored Bhayrn’s words and tried to keep his tone light as he gestured toward the dining room. Once they were seated at the table, he said again the gratitude that he had offered for the last several nights, ending with a slightly different variation on the conclusion. “We also give thanks for those who are not here, but elsewhere, either in L’Excelsis or beyond, and for all that they have meant, and all that they have conveyed in thought, word, and deed.”
“Thank you,” murmured Chelia.
The meal was modest, just roasted fowl, with garlic-roasted potatoes, and a vegetable ragout, accompanied by wine, a Montagne white from a regial vineyard there.
“You could have asked for a red wine as well,” said Bhayrn, “or dark lager. You know how I feel about white wine.”
“I didn’t think about it,” replied Charyn. “I left the menu up to Hassala.” As Father usually did.
“You’re rex now. Do we have to follow his rules?”
“For the moment, yes.”
“Why?”
“I could say, ‘Because I’m rex,’ but the truth is that I’ve got a few other things on my mind besides the choice of dinner wines.” Father didn’t exactly go out of his way to prepare me for being rex. Except, out of deference to his mother, he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Instead, he took a swallow of the wine. “It is a rather good white, though.”
Bhayrn frowned, opened his mouth, and then shut it without speaking.
“It seems rather quiet without Aloryana and Malyna,” said Chelia.
“It is,” agreed Charyn.
“She seemed almost happy to leave,” said Bhayrn.
“That’s understandable, I think,” replied Charyn, “especially right now. We’re almost prisoners of the factors, or whoever it is, and after the ball Aloryana realized that wouldn’t change, no matter what.”
“You mean that we’ll always be walled in?” Bhayrn sounded almost outraged.
“That’s not what I meant. Aloryana would have to marry someone Mother and I approve of, and she’d always be limited by whatever her husband wanted.”
“That’s a life without worry,” countered Bharyn. “Her husband would be the one concerned with providing for her.”
“Would you be happy if you had to rely on a woman providing for you, Bhayrn?” asked Chelia quietly.
“That won’t happen. That’s not the way things are.”
“No, they’re not,” said Chelia. “But should they be that way?”
“Why shouldn’t they be?”
“Maitre Malyna saved your life,” Chelia pointed out. “She was able to do that because the imagers train boys and girls in the same way. Isn’t your sister as bright as you are? Doesn’t she ride as well?”
And she plays the clavecin far better, thought Charyn.
“Just because imagers do that doesn’t mean anyone else will,” returned Bhayrn. “The Collegium has been around since the consolidation, and I don’t see anyone following their examples. With women or anything else.”
In the momentary silence that followed, Charyn took another swallow of wine. He’d always been aware of the Collegium. How could he not have been, considering that the imagers had saved his father and mother and put down two rebellions against them? But how much do the imagers really affect most people?
“You’re looking rather thoughtful, Charyn,” offered Chelia.
“I was thinking that most people have little to do with the imagers
, and know less about their abilities and customs. For most people in Solidar, the Collegium is just a name, and a place that takes care of the problem of imagers. The only people who are concerned about imagers are the High Holders, and there are only a few thousand of them.”
“We’re concerned,” declared Bhayrn.
“Because we deal with the imagers and the Collegium Maitre more than anyone else,” agreed Charyn.
“There’s another reason no one pays much attention,” said Chelia. “There are far fewer women imagers than men. There always have been. So there aren’t as many women imagers in positions of power, even at the Collegium.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have talked with Maitre Alyna a few times over the years.”
“She’s powerful, isn’t she?”
“Very much so,” replied Chelia. “She’s the first woman to be the Senior Imager in centuries.”
“There hasn’t been a Maitre of the Collegium who was a woman, has there?” asked Charyn.
“Not that I’ve heard,” said Chelia. “Any woman that powerful might not wish to be Maitre.”
“Why not?” asked Bhayrn.
“She’d likely have to use even more imaging and power than past Maitres have used, and she’d have to be almost a tyrant in order to get anything done.”
Charyn could see that. He could also see the puzzled expression on Bhayrn’s face, as if his brother didn’t have the faintest idea what their mother had meant. “Would you defer to Aloryana if she became Maitre?” Or would you cheat to win the way you did when you played plaques with her?
“If I knew the whole Collegium was behind her.”
Charyn had his doubts, but he wasn’t about to bring them up at the moment. Instead, he looked to his mother. “I think I might have to do some entertaining in the future. It might be helpful.”
“It probably would be, dear,” replied Chelia. “We should talk about it when you feel the time is right.”
Meaning not before the memorial service. Charyn nodded again.
28
Howal was waiting outside the study door at just before seventh glass on Jeudi morning when Charyn arrived.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Howal. I hope you slept well and that you’re finding your way around the chateau without much problem.” Charyn opened the study door, but left it open for Howal to follow him inside.
“I think I’ve managed. I did take some time last evening to walk all the corridors on all levels just to get my bearings.” Howal closed the door and followed Charyn to the desk, but remained standing, as did Charyn.
“I’ll be seeing a master silversmith named Argentyl at eighth glass. I’d like you to remain in the study when he arrives, but at the conference table, where you will take notes on anything of import he may say or reveal in any other way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, gather your paper and pen and sit down across from me. I’ll give you instructions on letters to draft. It may take several drafts at first, until we understand each other better.” While Howal gathered his supplies from the end of the conference table, Charyn settled behind the desk and began to open the latest missives that Norstan had left on the corner of the desk, reading each quickly before starting another pile of condolences that would require a response of some sort. Then he waited until Howal was seated and ready before beginning. “We’ll go through several of these letters of condolence, and I’ll give you a reply. Then I’ll need you to draft responses, and we’ll go over them. After that, if it seems that I’m been clear enough and you understand me well enough, you can draft a response to each, and then I’ll go over each of those with you later.” Charyn smiled wryly. “There’s already a stack of these, and there will likely be more.”
If Howal could do most of the work on the responses to the condolences and letters of sympathy, that would leave him more time to deal with other matters. Ignoring the condolences could only generate ill will, largely among the High Holders and wealthier factors, who were the only ones to write, at least so far.
He picked up the top letter. “This one is from my uncle, High Holder Delcoeur.” Who wrote immediately because he hopes I’ll favor him more than Father did. “My dear Uncle Delcoeur. Your immediate thoughtfulness and concern are both greatly appreciated, as is the timeliness of your sympathy and condolence. In these troubled and troubling times, it is good to know those who are indeed true in their support and concern, and for this, we all thank you…”
When Charyn finished, he looked to Howal, who was still writing. He waited until the imager finished.
“The next one is to Factor Elthyrd. He’s the head of the Solidaran Factors’ Council, but he’s been personally quite helpful and supportive to me. Factor Elthyrd. Your letter of sympathy was among the first to arrive and the first read. If I have not already conveyed my appreciation of all that you have done, I would do so now, as well as extend my deepest appreciation for your thoughtful and kind words about my father…”
By the time that Argentyl arrived at eighth glass, Howal was seated at the end of the conference table, busy drafting replies to the condolences.
Charyn had just put down the copy of Tableta that he had only finished moments before, and which had a smaller story on the assassination than the one in Veritum … but which had asked what Rex Lorien had done to cause two assassins to kill him in a near suicidal attack. What about angering every factor in shipping?
As the door opened and a smallish, black-haired man entered, Charyn stood. “Welcome to the chateau, Craftmaster Argentyl.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The master silversmith glanced at Howal and then back at Charyn.
“Howal is my trusted personal secretary. He’ll find out whatever we talk about in any event.” Charyn gestured to the chairs in front of the desk and then seated himself.
Argentyl took the middle chair of the three.
“Why did you ask to see me, Craftmaster?”
“I thought it couldn’t do any harm and might help.”
“With what?”
“I’ll come to the point, Your Grace.” The silversmith cleared his throat. “Your father had something to do with creating a Council of Factors for all of Solidar. You meet with that council, regular-like, I hear.”
“My father did. I haven’t yet, but I will.”
“We—that’s those of us who are craftmasters—thought that was a good idea for the guilds as well, here in L’Excelsis and the nearby towns. We’ve been meeting for near-on three years.”
Why haven’t you heard about this? Charyn just nodded for Argentyl to continue.
“It seemed to me that you might like to know what the craftmasters think and what they do for L’Excelsis, and what might make things better for everyone, things that apply to the guilds, that is.”
“Are you the senior member of this council, or were you asked to approach me?” Charyn was curious. “Or is there a specific matter of interest to the guilds?”
“For the present, I am the head of the Craftmasters’ Council. That’s just here in L’Excelsis, Your Grace.”
“And your reason for wanting to see me?”
“To keep standards of quality, Your Grace.”
“You’re going to have to explain more than that, Argentyl.”
“All of the guilds have standards. In metalworking, the guild doesn’t allow metals to be plated. Otherwise, a piece that’s silver-plated copper could be sold as sterling. That’d be fraud, sir. The problem is that the factors are bringing in imported metalwork. Lots of it doesn’t meet our standards. The same is true of cloth, and of other goods. The Factors’ Council here in L’Excelsis is ignoring the Artificer’s Standard. Each guild sets standards for work and working conditions. We’ve petitioned the L’Excelsis council, but they’ve declared that our standards only apply to what we make, not what artificers in other cities or lands make.”
“They’re bringing in inferior good
s and selling them for less, then?”
“It’s happening more and more, and not just in L’Excelsis.”
“Have you brought this matter to the attention of Minister Aevidyr?”
Argentyl looked down for a moment, then squared his shoulders. “His clerks said that the matter was one for the Factors’ Council, not the rex. They would not grant me an appointment.”
Charyn nodded. “Then what do you think I could do?”
“You make the laws, Your Grace. If the Artificer’s Standard is applied to all Solidar, the factors could import whatever they wish, so long as it meets the requirements. If it does not meet the requirements, then it must be sold at the guild price.”
Charyn frowned. “If it does not meet the requirements?”
“Yes, Your Grace. We do not believe outsiders can produce goods as well as we can. If they can, and they can do so for less, then that is justified and our loss.”
“Just who would set the standard for all Solidar?”
“The guild craftmasters of the largest cities—L’Excelsis, Solis, Liantiago, Tilbora, and Ouestan. Then it would be the law of the land.”
“If it becomes a law, then there must also be penalties.”
“Yes, Your Grace. We would not set them. We would only set the standards. You would determine the penalties.”
Charyn fingered his chin. “I’m going to have to think about this.”
“We do not expect an immediate decision, Your Grace, but all crafters are facing problems like this. I found a set of silver bowls. The mark on them indicated they were sterling. They were sterling washed over copper. That is fraud. The Factors’ Council dismissed my petition.”
“I can see where this might be a problem.” Charyn nodded. “I will consider your request.” He stood. “Where might I send any missives dealing with this problem?”
The craftmaster hurried to his feet. “To me, Argentyl. My shop is one block north of the corner of where Fedre crosses Quierca, on the south side.”
Charyn glanced to Howal. “If you’d write that down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charyn returned his attention to Argentyl. “I will let you know what I decide. It will not be that soon. I had not expected to become rex this early in my life or in the way it happened. There is much to do.”
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