The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

  "Because the only thing worse than government is no government at all. And there's the saddest sentence ever said by man. This evil is necessary. But keep it small, keep it quiet, and make it mind its own business. Always remember that ultimately you are stronger than it because you are many and it is few. Curb it. Hold it back. Bind it. Gag it. Stop it from acting. It will always grow in strength and return to victimise; doing evil no matter how hard it may try to do good. Do not think that by becoming it you will do good; you will not. You will become the thing you hate as surely as if you drank strong spirits to try and become sober. Governments are evil. Never forget it. Never think differently or that this time it may be different, or that this form of government may be better. Dictator, democracy, republic. They are all evil. Yet, they must be tolerated because the alternative is so much worse. Tolerate their existence, yes; but fight them whatever they try and do, because that which is inherently evil cannot do good no matter how hard it tries; and all you can do is fight daily to prevent it from enacting its constant plans to do good. It can do no good. Government does best when it does nothing at all. It is the job of the people to keep it still, to stop it from acting."

  "I don't believe that," Seldas challenged. "For example, a trader once brought a knitting frame to Learneth; had we not confiscated and destroyed it the mothers and old women who knit wool would soon have been out of work and unable to make a living."

  I closed my eyes for a moment and resisted the urge to sigh. It was the same old argument. "Locked into poverty, knitting gloves and hats they couldn't afford to wear themselves because they can only produce so many and need the money? How is that better than producing more and selling them cheaper so that everyone can have those goods? Don't answer," I raised a hand between us to check his response. "It will not be any part of your magistracy to make these decisions and these arguments can wait. Your job is to be on good terms with the leaders of other peoples, to be accommodating to their requests where you can and to be clear why you cannot when that is so, and to take the consequences of disagreement on your own shoulders rather than let your people suffer them. Speaking of which, you will be representing Darklake to Resh Ephannan and the clan chiefs who are camped outside our gates."

  Seldas blanched. "But they are hostile."

  "Exactly, and it is your job to mollify that hostility if you can. It should be no more difficult than what I have just done with Hald Epwhel."

  His mouth worked for a moment but no words came out.

  "Elendas here will accompany you. He is to remain with them as their guest, and you are to return with word of their answer to the letter I will send with you."

  Elendas cleared his throat, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched my face. "I am to be their hostage."

  I nodded. "In all but name, yes. Just as we have hostages, inherited though they may be, to ensure their good behaviour."

  For some reason his gaze drifted to the boar's head on the wall. "Should any of their families be harmed, my life would be forfeit."

  "You could refuse."

  His attention snapped back to me. "But you don't think I will when I know what you hope to achieve."

  I smiled. "I don’t think you will even if I send you in ignorance; I think you care about your people and will put yourself at risk for them."

  He nodded, thoughtfully, his attention directed inward. "I do and I will, but I still want to know what you intend."

  "Good. It's necessary that you both do." I turned to Seldas. "You are to move between us as messenger and as my representative in what will doubtless be a long negotiation; it is your job to make the discussions both long and inconclusive. Talk and listen, but agree nothing. It is possible that they will cooperate with this prolonging of negotiations. Either way, agree nothing." He gave a small nod, his face pale, his lips compressed. "They will not harm you, I believe. The truth of the matter is that we could roll them up in less than an hour and that this is all display; Resh Ephannan seeks to make a name for himself as a leader of the other chieftains, and so long as at the end of the day it looks like he succeeded in winning the freedom of the hostages that we have, he will be happy. He will threaten and bluster and rage, but he will not act."

  "You think," Elendas chipped in.

  I agreed. "So I think. I could be wrong but I would bet my own life on it."

  "But you are not."

  I gave in to the temptation to sigh. "I cannot at this moment. I can't be in two places at once and I can't be seen to be too obviously involved in this. You," I glanced at Seldas, "have been appointed to this role and no one will question that it is appropriate that you fulfil that role."

  Seldas squared his shoulders and gave a stiff nod.

  "And me?" Elendas said.

  I smiled. "You are doing me a favour, and I will owe you a favour."

  His lips twitched as he suppressed a smile. "And when do I get to have this favour repaid?"

  "As soon as the job is done. Go to Resh Ephannan. Be visible. Be seen to be calm and relaxed for as long as it takes."

  "And how long will it take?"

  "Who knows? Delicate negotiations take time. Now, go and get yourself ready; wear your most expensive clothing so that you look the part of a noble guest of chieftains you respect and honour by your presence."

  They stood and made for the door. Elendas paused and let Seldas precede him while he turned back to face me. "Had I not been granted the status of adult I would have to ask my mother’s permission for this."

  I have him a friendly grin as I reached for pen and paper. "Just as well we got that dealt with then, because now you don't have to ask anyone’s permission for anything."

  "No," he said as he turned away. "I don't."

  There was something about his tone of voice that bothered me but I let it pass. I had a tricky letter to write.

  #

  "What have you done to my son?"

  There are times when people talk and I just have no idea what they mean. I recognise the words, of course, but it is still like they are talking a different language; noise with no discernible meaning. Anista's question, barked at me while she stood with her fists on her hips and anger flashing in her eyes, made no sense to me. In one way I understood exactly what she meant; my son has done something I do not like and that must be because you have controlled him and caused him to become someone who will act against my wishes. In short; your control is bad, while my control was good. To answer her question I would have to accept her premise. I didn't; she was talking a different language. In my mind I took a step back to a conversation we could have on the subject, then saw that fail for similar differences in perception of reality; I took another mental step back. Then gave up; there was no point. No gain.

  Still, you have to try. "Elendas is a legal adult. He is free to do as he chooses. Nothing he does is my responsibility." Or yours, I might add, but didn't for fear of muddying the waters.

  Sapphire had already moved. He ghosted from the room, but did not close the bedroom door behind him.

  "You coward!" She threw herself forward, fists striking the table and leaning over me, almost in tears.

  What?

  "You manipulate and cajole and seduce people with your talk of wealth and freedom and send them into danger to your gain and he could be killed!" She shrilled. "He's my son! If you ever cared about me at all you would protect him," there were tears now but oddly they didn't spill, they just shimmered in her eyes, "not send him to be a hostage in the camp of our enemies, putting him in danger in your stead."

  Oh. She was thinking with that part of her brain. Her pup was in danger and because we had slept together I was his father and should protect him as I would my own son. I put a considering expression on my face as I poured some wine with the thought of offering it to her; then I changed my mind about that. Women have a habit of throwing wine in my face - at least often enough that I didn't care to put a perfectly good glass of wine at risk. I did think about it as she carried on t
alking, her own mind made up. I didn't listen. Were he my son, would I do any different? I can see that I would want to, but I was confident that I wouldn't. The truth is that the world is a dangerous place; the truth is that you can't keep people safe. Life is a terminal illness. There is no surviving it. It's only a matter of time. And delaying the inevitable is about strength and skill and ability; skills that have to be acquired. I did not consider the danger great, in fact; and I thought that he was able to master any fear he might feel and play his part well. That he would live through the minimal risk and walk out the other side of the experience stronger and more confident and better equipped for the next challenge.

  "...but how could I expect you to care about that?"

  Care about what? I chased after the fading memory of what she had been saying. When I caught it I picked the sense from it and discarded the rest.

  Resh Ephannan had been a rival of Orlek, had wanted to take her as wife. She had rejected Resh in favour of Orlek. Elendas was Orlek's son. How Resh felt about that would depend on what kind of man he was.

  I held up a hand to stop her from continuing. "Elendas knew this?"

  "Of course," she sniffed. "I talked about it often enough."

  Of course you did. Well, Elendas knew, and had still gone. "Has Elendas gone?" I'd passed out the letter some time since.

  "Yes. He's gone! I tried to stop him but he pushed me away." Drama. She wiped at her eyes.

  I imagined Elendas taking her gently by the upper arm and easing her away from him so that his longer reach broke her grip on him. That is probably what happened.

  Slowly, placing the wine carefully, I got to my feet and moved around the table. I'd finally figured out what she really wanted. Sometimes it's difficult for me to follow the torturous path of other people’s minds.

  "He will be all right," I said gently.

  Anista swallowed, looking up at me, searching my face to see if I was speaking the truth. As though I were a prophet.

  "Resh cared about you, wanted to marry you, there is no way he would harm your son." I was close enough; I lifted one hand, offering a space she could step into, not sure she would.

  "You're sure?" she moved closer, touched, accepted my arm around her waist.

  "I'm sure." Of course I wasn't sure. Resh could be a complete bastard for all I knew. But Elendas had known the history and chosen to go. He was sure. And I trusted his judgement. He knew the risk better than I did and had accepted it, whatever it might be. It was his risk to accept or reject.

  She put her head against my chest and I held her for a bit.

  "I'm afraid for him. If he is hurt..."

  I liked the boy. He was smart and confident and thoughtful. I did hope he came to no harm. I thought it might be a good idea to say so, so I did. Anista relaxed in my arms.

  The unwelcome distraction dealt with, I let my mind drift to other matters. I had a trial to deal with, and I wanted a particular result. And I wanted to reinforce the structure of the judicial system in people’s minds. There was one advantage I could see; as the intended victim I could not sit in judgement. I had set Vedat the task of peacekeeping, in control of the vigils and courts. It was time he took up some of his duties instead of just being instructed in them. He would be the judge, then. I had already provided him with notes so that he knew the order in which a trial should proceed. I could not, or at least should not, tell him in advance what outcome I desired; but if I took on the role of prosecutor I would have the right to declare my desired punishment should the man be found guilty. His defender would also have that ability and would doubtless propose a lesser punishment. But it was up to the judge to decide, and he could give any sentence he cared to under the law, ignoring both proposals. Well, there was little I could do about that. The would-be assassin would just have to take his chances; I can't say I had much sympathy for him but it would be better for me if his sentence were exile. I'd do what I could to make that happen, but there are limits to what I was willing to do to achieve my goals.

  Anista stirred in my arms. I relaxed my already gentle hold on her and she took a step back.

  "I'm sorry."

  For what? Oh, that. "There's no need to be sorry. It's hard to let go," so I'd heard, "to let them step away from the protection we give." We.

  Anista wiped her eyes. "Yesterday morning he was a boy."

  "And now he is man."

  She looked down at the table, strewn with papers and with a pile of dirty plates in the centre, empty glasses acting as paperweights. "You have work to do."

  "And so do you," I passed her the wine and rounded the table, snagging an empty glass as I went. "Let's talk about something else. It will help take your mind off things.

  I really am a manipulative bastard. But what choice did I have? These people were my responsibility. All of them equally, not one above another. The only thing I could provide them with was stability. Nothing else was wholly in my hands; not safety or security, not success of failure, wealth or poverty; none of those things were mine to give. But stability I could provide for now, and put in place the tools for them to provide it for themselves. And I didn't have much time before I had to face my own problems. Having taken the task on, I would do whatever was necessary to see that they had that one small thing that I could secure for them: stability. A state that allowed the freedom and opportunity to work to better their own lives.

  What they did then was not my responsibility.

  "I'm still angry about the Angora," she said. "Those rabbits are mine, from my original breeding stock."

  Well, some subjects just never went away. "Then you need to be paid for them," I said. "Maybe a small percentage of the wool produced?"

  Her eyes were dry and piercing over the glass she had raised to her lips but not yet tasted. "What," she said, "is a percentage?"

  #

  Orasin had acquired ink stains on his hands and the distracted yet jittery air of the perpetually worried.

  He paced. I sat. Sapphire watched, unmoved.

  "At this rate of expenditure we will be bankrupt by the end of the summer, unless we increase taxation."

  "Investment isn't quite the same as expenditure," I reminded him. "There will be returns, increased productivity. That in itself will increase revenues without the need to increase taxation."

  He waved the sheaf of accounts, more displaying that they existed than making reference to them. "So you say, Patron. But when? When will this profligate expenditure end? When will we see returns? And how much? How can I plan without knowing?"

  I shrugged. "I have no idea, Orasin. No one does. There are too many variables. Things could change in a moment making all projections invalid." They already had but I was hardly going to raise that point right now.

  "The treasury is haemorrhaging money, Patron!"

  "And so far income seems..."

  "Non-existent!"

  "Minimal," I corrected him. "Lendrin Treleth owes and will pay. He has brought goods through the pass and owes for that, the money will help pay for the road, and he is already the primary creditor for that project. Get the housing project speeded up and there will be rents to add to income."

  "Tools, we need tools and there aren't enough, though there is no shortage of labour available."

  "Treleth will have brought tools to trade; those who can use them and wish to work will buy them."

  He waved the papers again. "With our money."

  "It isn't your money."

  "Yet it must come from the treasury."

  "As a loan," I reminded him. "At least labour is plentiful, and therefore cheap."

  He snorted. "This waterwheel madness."

  "Will pay for itself and give profit; just make it happen and rent the power generated."

  "It will take years to pay for itself. Years."

  "Are you planning to go somewhere?"

  He shook his head, still pacing and tapping the papers against his leg in time to his steps. I let him pace. It was close to noon
. I had other things on my mind. The accusations of my would-be assassin had to be answered. I had nothing to offer. No witnesses. Except Sapphire. He has been stealing children in the night, Sapphire had said. He had been speaking of Silgar, though we hadn't known it then. Would Sapphire's word be enough? It's the same someone who is snatching children, Sapphire had said. Nearly caught him at that.

  "You saved one." I turned to Sapphire.

  Nearly caught him at that, he had said, and then he had said, saved one at least.

  "One what?"

  I glanced back to Orasin. He had stopped pacing and was watching, his expression questioning, as though he had thought I was addressing him. The expression of interest faded but still, I didn't want him here for this. I leaned across the table, one had extended. "You can leave those with me, Orasin. We will talk again when I have had a chance to look through them."

  He looked at the papers, then at my extended hand and reluctantly handed them over. "Later today?"

  I flicked through the pages. Small handwriting; neat list of names, purpose of loan or expenditure, amount, new balance. Thirty pages of it. I picked out a couple of large figures and noted the name against which they had been drawn. "Tomorrow," I decided. Or the next day.

  I flicked through the papers as Orasin left, dissatisfied and muttering. I found the figure for the final balance. He was right about one thing, the treasury was bleeding coin. But the amount of coin in people’s pockets hadn't hit the point where I would start worrying about inflation.

  "A child, Sapphire. One Silgar was trying to take?"

  He allowed that it was true. "A boy, about twelve," he gestured with his hand to shoulder height. "I can see where you are going with this and it's no use to you. The boy was unconscious, being carried. He'll have seen nothing..." he trailed off, thinking it through.

  "Unless he caught a glimpse before Silgar knocked him out."

  He nodded. "But what will he have seen? A shadow."