Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Maertyl said that someone disguised themselves as an army courier…”

  “Complete with uniform and the proper mount—stolen two weeks ago, according to Marshal Vaelln. There was also another threatening and warning letter.”

  “Oh?” Chelia’s single word did not hold any suggestion of surprise.

  “Much the same as before,” replied Charyn. “Something to the effect that I have failed to address the problems of the factors and warning me that the attacks will continue until I do or until they succeed. He is persistent, whoever he is. I’ll grant that.”

  “How can you do any more?” asked Bharyn. “Even I know warships don’t grow on trees and that it costs golds to build them.”

  “I don’t think he’s giving much consideration to that. Angry men don’t often listen to logic.” Charyn gestured toward the dining room door. “Shall we? I’m rather hungry.”

  “Of course,” replied Bhayrn.

  Once the three were seated, and Chelia had said the gratitude, and Charyn had poured the wine, Bhayrn said, “Why are they persisting?”

  “Perhaps because we don’t know who they are, and until I can stop whoever it is,” replied Charyn, “the attacks are likely to continue.”

  “It has to be a factor, maybe even a group of them,” asserted Bhayrn. “Who else could it be?”

  As his brother spoke, Charyn watched Chelia, but their mother just nodded faintly, without saying a word.

  “With all the effort the attacks have taken,” Charyn replied, “it would appear that whoever is behind them has to be wealthy and powerful. It can’t be some petty factor or an angry impoverished High Holder. It has to be a wealthy factor, or even possibly a wealthy High Holder.”

  “I suppose,” returned Bhayrn dubiously, “but the notes I saw kept talking about the factors, and you just said that the latest one did as well. That suggests a wealthy factor.”

  “All of which means, if he is wealthy, that I can’t very well punish all the less well-off factors.”

  “That would seem to present a problem,” said Bhayrn blandly. “You’ll have to find a way around that. That is, if you can’t immediately discover who the wretch is.” He paused. “I’d like to use the plain coach tomorrow. If that’s agreeable.”

  “It is. I have no plans. Just give consideration to the horses, the driver, and the guards … as you always do.”

  “I can do that.” Bhayrn smiled, then took a careful sip of the red wine Charyn had poured for him. “Ah … the Mantes red. Thank you. It’s a good robust wine for winter, even if it’s not traditional for pork.”

  “It is a good wine,” agreed Chelia, “although I prefer the Cloisonyt white with the pork, especially with the cream sauce. The red is a trace heavy for me.”

  Charyn nodded, sipped his wine, cut a slice of pork, and then ate it, knowing the rest of the dinner conversation would be pleasant.

  After dinner, Charyn walked Chelia up the stairs to her sitting room and invited himself in, closing the door firmly behind them.

  Even before he settled into a chair facing his mother, he asked, “Why is Bhayrn being so civil? Not that I mind it in the slightest, but he was more polite tonight than he’s been in weeks.”

  “It might be because I pointed out that he was likely to feel extraordinarily guilty if one of these attempts at killing you succeeds, not to mention the fact that, if it does, he’ll be the next target.”

  Charyn nodded.

  “That nod suggests you agree,” said Chelia sardonically.

  “Unhappily, it makes a great deal of sense, especially if the man behind happens to be the one I think it is. There is, unfortunately, the small matter of proving that … or even coming close.”

  “Coming close, after all the attempts, might well be sufficient, dear.”

  “Why do you think that?” asked Charyn, genuinely curious.

  “Because you’ve been incredibly calm amid all of the attempts. You’ve worked out a compromise on tariffs, and … well … I hate to say it, but you seem more levelheaded and less prone to rage than your immediate predecessors.”

  In short, the High Holders and factors just might lean to your side rather than chance yet another rex. Charyn managed a frown. “There still has to be some proof. Plausible proof.”

  “Of course there does.” Chelia smiled. “I thought the white Cloisonyt was the better vintage for the pork, although the red is more suited to a winter evening.”

  “I’ve always been partial to whites, just as Bhayrn has been to reds.” Charyn returned his mother’s smile, knowing that anything else he said verging on the day’s events would be deflected by yet another observation about wine, food, weather, or possibly speculative comments about how Aloryana was doing at the Collegium.

  At the moment, that was fine with him. He really didn’t want to think more about the past day.

  61

  Jeudi passed without incident, for which Charyn was most grateful, and there wasn’t even a story in Tableta about the explosion in the chateau, most likely because the newssheet learned about it too late to print. That newssheet silence did not extend to Vendrei, because almost the entire front page of Veritum consisted of a story focused on the events at the Chateau D’Rex and affecting Charyn, a story that Charyn immediately read, slowly and carefully, once he reached his study.

  On Meredi an explosion occurred in the Chateau D’Rex. It was the second explosion within the Chateau in the past month. A former worker at the Chateau reported that the first explosion was created by a disgruntled officer in the Chateau Guard. While the explosion killed the officer, it caused only minor injuries to the rex …

  Which former worker? Keithell or his assistant?

  … no indications that the second explosion caused any injuries, but a senior Army officer visited the rex later on Meredi afternoon. The Chateau seneschal offered no comments except to insist that the rex was in good health and continuing his daily work …

  The fact that explosions have occurred suggests unhappiness on the part of some individuals, possibly factors, because of the inability of the rex to move more quickly in dealing with the losses of Solidaran merchant ships and the continuing threat posed by Jariolan privateers and warships … at least one regional governor has quietly expressed dissatisfaction with the rex …

  Voralch or Warheon? Both?

  … spice trade is so affected by the Jariolan threat that various factors councils are pushing the rex to increase tariffs on High Holders so that factors don’t have to pay as much to protect their ships and cargoes. For all the High Holder dissatisfaction with the rex, after two failed revolutions … seems unlikely that High Holders would attempt a third with all that they might lose … can be said that whoever is behind the unwise attempts on Rex Charyn and the regial family should cease such counterproductive efforts. Some have even speculated that whoever is behind them is most likely deeply involved in trade with Otelyrn and the Abierto Isles … One can only hope that, after his meeting with the joint councils next week, Rex Charyn will have a clearer plan for dealing with the crisis. If not, matters could worsen …

  Charyn shook his head and set down the newssheet, thinking. He couldn’t help but feel that Ryel believed he would succeed, even if the attacks failed. And that made an unfortunate kind of sense, because Ryel had planned the attacks on several different levels. If he didn’t kill Charyn, he would either force Charyn to act against factors or succeed in portraying the factors as selfish and greedy and thus strengthen the position of the High Holders. Worse, if the attacks continued, Charyn’s failure to stop them would portray Charyn as bumbling and ineffectual. And all that, too, was another indication—once more totally without physical proof—that Ryel had to be behind it all.

  Charyn paused. Had Ryel also been behind the fire destroying the factors’ exchange in Solis? But why would he have been? Just to create unhappiness with the factors so that they’d be harder for Charyn to deal with? That was a possibility, but another thing C
haryn might never discover.

  All the items of physical proof he had, the letters, the golds, and the two “replacement” silvers Alucar had procured for him, were indicative, but far from conclusive. Even if Cauthyrn and Churwyl had survived, they could only have said that someone had hired them, but not who. The street urchin who had delivered the last warning had given a description that suggested a woman, but could have been either man or woman.

  There was no help for it. He couldn’t afford to wait longer, not the way things were going. He took out paper and pen and began to write. Even knowing what he wanted to put in ink, it took Charyn almost a glass to word the letter to Marshal Vaelln to convey the impression he wanted. Even so, he read it again, slowly, word for word.

  Marshal Vaelln—

  As you doubtless know and may have read in the newssheets, both the High Holders and factors, particularly those involved in shipping and especially in the spice trade dealing with the Abierto Isles and Otelyrn, have expressed growing concern about the ongoing losses of Solidaran merchant vessels. You have been most persuasive in educating me as to the realities of the situation, and the members of both the High Council and Solidaran Factors’ Council respect your knowledge and your integrity. For this reason, and in view of the most recent articles in the newssheets, I am requesting that you brief the joint councils at their monthly meeting at the Chateau D’Rex, next Meredi, the eighteenth of Fevier at the first glass of the afternoon.

  I would also request that you bring a full mounted squad and arrive a glass before the meeting, in the event, however unlikely it might prove to be, that the meeting might provoke yet another attack on the regial family, or members of the councils. The presence of Army troopers should also serve as a deterrent to other possible unpleasant events.

  After reviewing the letter once more, Charyn signed and sealed it, then had Howal make a copy and arrange for its delivery to the marshal.

  When Howal returned, Charyn was writing out a listing of all the items of indication or evidence, but he set that sheet aside as he saw that Howal remained standing. “You had a question, Howal?”

  “Yes, sir. I did. How much longer do you believe that you will be needing my services?”

  “Is that your question or Maitre Alastar’s?” Charyn smiled pleasantly.

  “Mine, sir. Although I believe Maitre Alastar would also like to know. You seem to have dispatched and otherwise handled a rather large amount of correspondence, petitions, and opinions, to the point that your actual need for a private secretary…”

  “Is much diminished?” Charyn nodded. “That’s true. And you have helped immeasurably. Without all your assistance I would still be struggling through petitions and reviewing justicer opinions. Without your shields, I would be dead, at least on two occasions. What you have tactfully refrained from observing is that the attacks upon my person have continued … and it would appear that they will continue for the foreseeable future, since there is almost no evidence of a physical nature and no one who can say who is behind such acts. Is that not so?”

  “It would appear that way, sir.”

  “It does. I had originally asked Maitre Alastar for your services until next Meredi’s meetings with the two councils. There will almost certainly be a need for certain reports after the meeting. There always has been. I don’t see that changing. Your help with those would be most appreciated. After that … I trust you will not be unduly disappointed to return to the Collegium.” Charyn kept his tone of voice light and humorous.

  “Even though the attacks…”

  “I cannot ask the Collegium to safeguard me and to keep risking your life because angry individuals are unhappy with me as rex. After the changes that Maitre Dylert implemented with the Chateau Guard, and the ones Maitre Kaylet and you are completing with the rest of the chateau functions, I think I will be reasonably safe, given certain personal precautions. As we have seen, the assassin master is already having a more and more difficult time in getting to me personally. We will make it more so.”

  “Sir … are you certain…?”

  “If some great change occurs between now and next week’s meeting, I do reserve the right to ask you to stay longer, but … as matters stand, I believe I’ve taken excessive advantage of you already. And of the Collegium.” Charyn offered a wry smile.

  “The time I’ve spent here has been valuable to me as well.”

  “In learning how many mistakes a young ruler can make, perhaps?”

  “You seem to have avoided many, from what I’ve observed.”

  “Whether I’ve avoided enough remains to be seen.”

  “Maitre Alastar says that you can only avoid mistakes through experience, but you only get experience through making mistakes.”

  Charyn couldn’t help smiling and shaking his head. The aphorism sounded all too like the Maitre.

  By third glass, Charyn had thought and prepared all that he could, or all that he thought he could, although he’d likely wake up in the middle of the night thinking about something he’d forgotten. He dismissed Howal for the day, promising not to leave the chateau, and made his way down to the music room.

  Palenya was, once more, copying music.

  “Don’t you ever rest?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Not when I’m being paid.” She offered an embarrassed smile. “I’m making copies of some of your music to give to the Collegium. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No. I wish I’d thought of that. It’s a good idea.”

  “You can’t think of everything.”

  “No, I can’t, and I haven’t.” Unfortunately.

  “You look worried,” said Palenya.

  “I am. Did you read Veritum?”

  “I heard that the newssheets are saying you’re not doing enough. What else can you do?”

  “Not much. Not that Solidar can afford without higher tariffs, and I’ve arranged for those. As much as was possible. That’s why I’m here.”

  Her brows knit into a puzzled frown. “Oh?”

  “Since I’ve done all I can do for the moment, I thought I’d take a break and work on Nocturne Number Three … and then persuade you to play the duet with me. That way, maybe my thoughts will be clearer when I go back to the study and look at more papers and petitions.”

  There really weren’t any more petitions to address, but Charyn didn’t want to admit that he’d likely just sit behind his desk and stew. Besides, he liked being with Palenya, and she’d made it all too clear that such times were numbered and not likely to last.

  That’s all too true, one way or the other.

  62

  Samedi morning at eighth glass found Charyn standing at the study window, looking down at the courtyard where two days before, there had been all manner of tack stacked in neat piles, the result of Kaylet’s decision to totally clean and reorganize the tack rooms, after discovering that there was an older chamber in the back of the stable, the entrance to which had been covered by a hayrack. Inside the old chamber had been moldering and discarded saddles, bridles, traces, and chains, but in addition, a number of items that, once cleaned, were completely usable.

  Kaylet had also presented Charyn and Norstan with newly drawn plans for every chamber in the barns, stables, and sheds to the rear of the courtyard. Charyn had checked the archives, and discovered that no current plans existed. In fact, he wasn’t certain there had ever been plans, although there must have been.

  At ninth glass, Sturdyn rapped on the door. “Maitre Kaylet and Stablemaster Aedryt are ready for you to inspect the changes to the stable and the barns.”

  Charyn pulled on his heavy riding jacket and, with Howal beside him, headed down the grand staircase, and then to the rear foyer and out into the rear courtyard.

  Kaylet and Aedryt stood waiting in front of the main stable doors.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” offered Aedryt.

  “Good morning,” replied Charyn cheerfully, taking a moment to study the new stablemaster, a stocky man
with black hair and a short well-trimmed black beard who looked some ten years older than Charyn. “Are you pleased with the changes, Aedryt?”

  “Yes, sir. Very much, sir.”

  “Many of the changes were his idea,” added Kaylet.

  “Much of the work could not have been done without Maitre Kaylet,” Aedryt said quickly. “We should start with the main stable.” He gestured to the doors.

  “Lead on,” said Charyn.

  Once inside the stable, Charyn could immediately see that each stall had been scrubbed clean, and the wood re-smoothed. The stone flooring had been scraped and scrubbed as well, and the only noticeable smell was that of hay.

  “I thought you’d like to see the new study for the stablemaster,” Kaylet said, leading Charyn toward the west end of the stable. Where the old and battered hayrack had stood, on one side was a wooden rack for barrels, and on the other an open door.

  Charyn looked inside. The old chamber had been cleaned and the walls refinished—through a certain amount of imaging, Charyn was certain—and turned into a study for Aedryt, with a small table desk and file chests for the ledgers to keep track of all the supplies used by the activities under the stablemaster and with two locked cabinets against the south wall.

  “Those are for the more valuable supplies, sir,” explained Aedryt as he pointed to the cabinets.

  From the main stable, Aedryt led the way to the coach barn, explaining as he went, “We rearranged the main coach barn so that we could hitch to either coach without moving the other, and we rebuilt the tack room on the north corner so that it’s easier to get to the harnesses…”

  Charyn just listened, but he studied each and every aspect of the main barn, and the smaller barn that held the carts, the chaise, and two wagons, as well as the changes to the grain bins and the haylofts.

  By the time the group returned to the rear courtyard more than a glass later, Charyn was almost overwhelmed by what Kaylet—and Aedryt—had accomplished in little more than a month, and he turned to the pair. “I cannot overstate how much I appreciate all you have done. Everything appears almost new-built, and it’s clear that great effort and much thought have gone into this … transformation.”