Why is the newssheet mentioning that? Still wondering about that, Charyn read the rest of the newssheet with some trepidation, but that was the only story that affected him, even indirectly.
Before long, Alucar arrived, carrying a small sheaf of papers, which he set on the edge of the desk as he seated himself across from Charyn.
“What can you tell me about building a shipyard so that the navy isn’t at the mercy of the existing shipbuilders?”
“It’s not a simple matter, Your Grace. The best location for a regial shipyard dedicated to building warships remains Solis. There the daily wage of a master shipwright runs between one and two silvers. That is higher than the wages in Westisle, Nacliano, Estisle, or Tilbora, but there are other aspects to consider. The best wood for shipbuilding is the live oak that grows in the forests around the Sud Swamp. The timber can be floated down the Sud River to the Aluse and from there to Solis. The next best is Midcote oak, but there are few shipwrights in either Tilbora or Midcote. Most of them build for the coastal trade or for fishing—”
“What does all that have to do with what it will cost to build a regial shipyard?”
“Your greatest costs are timber and men, not the shipyard itself. There are vacant properties along the bay at Solis. They can be had for a reasonable amount. You can get the shipwrights by paying slightly more than a silver a day, just by guaranteeing them work year around. In Midcote and Tilbora, the winters are long and cold, and for at least a third of a year, you cannot build ships. In other areas besides Solis, you would have to ship the timbers a great distance at a much higher cost or to use inferior wood…”
Charyn forced himself to listen as Alucar laid out all the reasons for building a regial shipyard in Solis. When the minister finished, he asked, “How much will all this cost?”
“Ten thousand golds this year, fifteen thousand next year, and five thousand a year thereafter. That does not include the actual costs of each vessel nor of its fitting out.”
Charyn tried not to swallow. “How much of that can we raise without increasing tariffs?”
“That depends on what you decide not to spend, Your Grace. Currently, if matters go as in the past, and if you build the two extra warships announced by your sire, and you use all the reserves, you will have at most five thousand golds to spare.”
“How accurate have your predictions been in past years?”
“If there is no widespread drought or flooding, they have been very accurate. Floods and droughts change everything.”
“Do you have detailed figures on what you just told me?”
“Yes, sir.” Alucar lifted the papers and handed them to Charyn. “I believe those cover everything I have told you.”
“Thank you.”
After Alucar had left the study, Charyn stood and turned to Howal. “Let’s take a walk down to see Minister Sanafryt. I need to get out of the study, at least for a few moments.”
Howal grinned as he stood. “As you wish, sir.”
“Getting a little tired on variations of the same letter?”
The imager only smiled.
The two walked from the north corridor to the grand staircase. Charyn glanced down the shimmering stone structure. There were no guards at the bottom, not that there ever were, except at balls or grand occasions. He descended carefully, then made his way eastward along the south corridor.
When he knocked and immediately opened the study door, Sanafryt rose from behind his desk. “I would have been glad—”
“I needed to move about.” Charyn nodded for Howal to close the door, but he remained standing. “I asked you yesterday about imagers being able to inherit. Last night, I went through the Codex Legis. I couldn’t find anything that prohibited it. In fact, the only section on inheritance dealt with High Holders and the restrictions on entailment. There was nothing about inheritance for anyone else, not even the rex. Did I miss something?”
Sanafryt shook his head. “There isn’t anything else. There likely wouldn’t be under the circumstances.”
“Why not?”
“Vaelora and Quaeryt are supposed to have drafted the basic codex for the first Rex Regis. You may recall he was also a scholar…”
“He was?” Why was so much about the first Maitre so hidden?
“He was. With Vaelora being the younger sister of the rex and being married to an imager, I somehow doubt that the rex would have made it impossible for him to gift anything to her.”
“So I could gift Aloryana…”
“It’s not that simple. There is the matter of precedent. A number of justicing determinations have found that property owners do have the right to disinherit sons who are imagers. Part of the reasoning behind that lies in the fact that Imagisle is exempt from tariffs, both through precedent and a decree from the first Rex Regis, which has never been revoked, and since imagers do not pay tariffs, they should not have property that would otherwise be subject to tariffs…”
“That sounds like stretching logic.”
“It may have been, but that decision was rendered three centuries ago, and upheld a number of times since. There has been no problem when regial lands have been gifted, because only the rex and his immediate family are exempt from tariffs. So, if Aloryana were not an imager, no one would say anything.”
“They won’t anyway, assuming I did so.”
“The High Holders and factors might. You know how they feel about tariffs.”
“Does everything in Solidar these days turn upon tariffs?”
Sanafryt offered an ironic smile in return.
Charyn laughed. “Of course it does.”
Sanafryt nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“The water-rights addition to the Codex?”
“Taemylt is writing out a fair copy right now. It should be ready within the glass. Once you sign it, the clerks will make copies and send one to the High Justicer, each High Councilor, and each regional governor.”
“I can give them to the High Councilors on Meredi, but make additional copies so that I can give them to the members of the Factors’ Council of Solidar as well.”
“That we will, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Charyn nodded, then turned.
Howal had already opened the door. After the two left the study, Howal closed the door and hurried to catch up to Charyn.
“He’s not happy about that,” said Charyn as he and Howal walked toward the grand staircase.
“I’ve heard it said that advocates seldom are happy with changes in the laws, and that when they are, it is a cause for worry.”
“I wonder who said that. The man who recommended you, perhaps?”
“It just might be, sir.”
“Well … back to the rest of what lies waiting in the study.” Charyn started up the grand staircase.
35
Charyn did not so much sleep late on Samedi morning as lie in bed thinking until well past sixth glass when he finally turned over and looked at Palenya. “Later today, I want you to begin to teach me a new clavecin piece.”
“Will you have time?” She offered a humorous smile.
“It’s Samedi. None of the ministers are here. Besides, you said I should practice, and I’d like something new to add to what I know. And you want to feel that you’re earning your pay as a musician.”
“Then I’d better leave and get ready.”
“I said later. Besides, I told Hassala to send up breakfast for both of us at a quint before seven.”
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea…”
“It’s a very good idea, and the sitting room is far warmer than the senior staff room this early in the day. You can also take your time.”
“You are insistent.”
“No … I just want your company.”
Shortly thereafter, breakfast arrived, carried on two large trays.
As Charyn settled into one of the chairs at the sitting room table, he looked to Palenya. “You also get to eat sooner this wa
y.”
“Are you trying to bribe me to stay?”
“Am I succeeding?” Charyn poured tea from the teapot kept warm by a small candle, first for Palenya and then for himself.
Palenya laughed warmly. “You’re succeeding in flattering me.”
“That’s a start. Don’t let your breakfast get cold.” He looked down at the browned ham strips, the cheese and mushroom omelet, and the warm loaf of dark bread—and the sweet berry preserves that accompanied it.
“I wouldn’t get this downstairs.”
“That’s why you’re getting it here. I’m going to enjoy it much more with your company, and I hope you enjoy it more with mine.”
Almost a glass later, Palenya left, insisting that it would be a challenge to find music suitable for him to play, especially something challenging, but not impossible. After washing, shaving, and dressing, Charyn made his way to the study, where Howal was already at the conference table, writing.
The imager looked up. “I’m just finishing the last of the replies to the sympathy and condolence letters.”
“Until we get some more from places like Estora and Noira that likely haven’t even heard about the assassination. There probably won’t be that many of those.”
“What would you like me to do once I finish the letters?”
“We’ll start on the simpler petitions. We’ll draft a response and have Sanafryt review it for law and precedent. It’s likely to be faster that way.” And you can get more of them off the desk … and probably make more factors and High Holders unhappier even sooner.
A little more than a glass later, as Charyn was working on petitions with Howal and still half-thinking about how to present matters to High Council and Factors’ Council, Maertyl rapped on the study door.
“Your Grace, there’s a messenger here from Maitre Alastar. He says he can only deliver the message to you.”
Charyn gestured to Howal. “Have him come in.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the messenger in imager grays entered, Charyn again looked to Howal, who nodded.
“Your Grace, I have three missives, two are to be delivered to you. The other is from Imager Aloryana to Lady Chelia. Maitre Alastar said that no immediate response is required.”
“Thank you. I’ll take them so that you can report that you delivered them to my hands.”
The messenger stepped forward and handed three sealed envelopes to Charyn, who inclined his head. The messenger then stepped back, turned, and departed.
“We’ll take this one to my mother immediately,” Charyn said.
His mother was not in her sitting room, surprisingly. Charyn finally found her leaving the kitchen.
“You just got a letter from Aloryana.” He handed Chelia the still-sealed letter.
“We’ll all go to the receiving parlor.”
Once the three were in the parlor, and seated, Charyn said, “You read it. Then you can tell us however much you want to.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing…”
“That might be, but the letter is to you.”
As Chelia extracted two sheets, written on both sides, she smiled. “Apparently, she does have a great deal to say.”
Charyn watched his mother’s face as she read, but he could see no signs of worry, and several brief smiles.
When she finished and had replaced the letter in the envelope, she faced Charyn. “She is definitely pleased to be with the Maitre and Maitre Alyna. Lystara is like an older sister, if a quietly demanding one. Alyna says she is already an imager second, whatever that means, and both maitres have told her she’s likely to become a third within the next year.” Chelia looked to Howal.
“If she makes third at her age, she’s almost certain to be a maitre. That’s if she works at it.”
“What else?” asked Charyn.
“She’s getting tutored in mathematics by Maitre Alyna, who makes geometry interesting and inspiring. She has to run two milles every morning that the weather permits. All the imagers whose health permits have to do that. They also have exercises she has to do. She says she needs to get stronger in order to be a better imager.”
“Imaging can take great physical strength,” added Howal in a low voice that barely carried.
“Oh … the food at the Maitre’s dwelling is quite good. The food in the dining hall where she eats her midday meal is filling and not much more.” After a moment, Chelia said, “You can read it later, if you wish, dear.”
“Thank you, but it is her letter to you.”
Not until Charyn and Howal had returned to the study did Charyn open the first missive from Maitre Alastar. The key sections were comparatively short and succinct.
Although there was never any absolute proof, events strongly suggested that Commander Murranyt poisoned his predecessor with the assistance of the former, and late, High Holder Laevoryn. Murranyt also avoided looking into various crimes, including arson and murder, perpetrated by the brownshirts housed on Laevoryn’s L’Excelsis estate.
He took a stipend from his position as Commander of the Civic Patrol less than a year after the High Holder revolt and lived quietly in L’Excelsis for some time after that before departing. I am having others look into when he left the city and where he may have gone, although it may be difficult to ascertain much about either.
I am also looking into Factor Goerynd and his son. As soon as I know more, I will be in touch.
Charyn handed the letter to Howal for him to read, then opened the second. It was far shorter.
As Maitre of the Collegium Imago, I appreciate your desire to include the Collegium in the meeting on Meredi, 18 Ianus, and will be present.
The Collegium also appreciates your determination to include it on a continuing basis in meetings of the councils.
With a relieved smile, Charyn let out the breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding. He took the first letter as Howal returned it, and handed him the second.
When he had the second one back, he replaced both in their envelopes, which he laid on the desk. He fingered his chin, thinking. Should you talk to Churwyl about this?
Finally, he shook his head. There really wasn’t much point in doing that until and unless Alastar discovered information that changed what Churwyl had told Charyn himself.
By the first glass of the afternoon, Charyn had dealt with more than enough petitions and other correspondence. He stood up and looked at Howal.
“I think you should take off the rest of the day and Solayi. There’s not that much for you to do here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise not to leave the chateau. I also suspect I’m going to need your presence a great deal in the week ahead.”
“Sir…”
Charyn walked over to where the imager stood by the conference table and lowered his voice to a murmur. “You can check with the Maitre, and if he disagrees, you can return immediately. I’d rather not take complete advantage of you.”
“Under those circumstances … I thank you.”
Charyn smiled. “Now … go.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Howal tidied up the papers on the table, and departed, Charyn headed for the music room, where he hoped to find Palenya—and did.
“I’ve found something that should challenge you,” she said with a smile, one that was not quite mischievous. “It’s also by Farray.”
“I don’t know that I want to be challenged immediately. Could we play the Farray duet first?”
“We can … Yes, I’d like that.” She eased onto the clavecin bench beside him.
Charyn had to concentrate, and yet, at the same time, feel the music. He managed both, although he wasn’t quite certain how, but he found himself smiling when he lifted his fingers off the keyboard at the end of the duet.
“You’re ready for the other Farray piece,” Palenya said, slipping off the clavecin bench and walking to the sideboard that held the sheets of music. As she walked back to the clavecin, she continued, “This is a short no
cturne. Most are longer, but it has a hint of syncopation, and Farray himself said it represented nostalgia lit by passion.” She placed the music before Charyn.
“What is it called?”
“Farray didn’t name the nocturnes. It’s just Nocturne Number Three.”
Charyn looked at the music once … and then again. “Are you sure I can play this?”
“No. You can’t play it, but you’re good enough to learn to play it. The opening bars are the key.” She sat down beside him. “Try to think of a summer evening when both moons are full.” Her fingers almost caressed the keys as she played the passage.
Charyn could immediately feel why she liked the nocturne.
“Now … you try it.”
He stopped after two bars and shook his head.
“Why did you stop?” Her words were gentle.
“It … didn’t feel right … didn’t sound … together.”
“That’s good.”
“Good?”
“Good that you could sense it immediately.”
Charyn wasn’t so sure.
More than a glass later, he still wasn’t sure, despite Palenya’s insistence that he was doing well on a difficult piece. “I thought I asked for something challenging, not impossible.”
“It’s not impossible. It’s just very difficult, but it’s something you can do … if you want to work on it.”
While her words weren’t said in a challenging way, Charyn felt that giving up would disappoint her … and, for some reason, he found he didn’t want to do that.
He smiled ruefully. “Would you play that last part again?”
When Charyn finally left the music room, sometime after third glass, he discovered that he felt better, and more cheerful, than he had any time since finishing breakfast, even if the only parts of the nocturne he felt he had played well were the opening bars and perhaps a third of the first page of the music.
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