“Master Shianan,” the commander corrected. “Don’t let that smith worry you. I’ve never seen the point in paying good coin to have someone else loosen up the hide of a slave one could intimidate oneself.”
Luca heard the tentative reassurance behind the ostensible threat. “Of course, Master Shianan.”
“So get back to those ledgers.” He made a face. “Better you than me.”
They turned through the market, passing a gaming booth. The gamer was having a hard time soliciting customers in the chill. Then he saw Shianan. “Good sir!” he called. “Where is your lady friend today? Care to win her a flower?”
“Not today,” Shianan answered sharply, and he started up the hill at a brisk pace. Luca hurried behind him, observing by Shianan’s tense posture he should not ask about the incident.
Buying a used cloak was a matter of minutes and they returned to the office, where a soldier awaited shame-faced. “I’m Harl, sir. I was sent to you.”
Shianan looked at him. “For discipline, I take it?”
The soldier sagged. “Yes, sir.”
“We’ll hear it in a moment. Luca, clear those books to the next room, please?”
Beyond the office door, Luca settled himself on his mattress with books and papers in a wide arc around him. There was something interesting in the books, he sensed. It was difficult to discern, but occasionally the master ledger and the monthly ledgers did not seem to match exactly, or they differed from the associated requisition letter, or invoice, or receipt. It could be simple errors in entry—certainly possible in such an imprecise and complex system—but he had been trained in accuracy to the minute detail, and a puzzle to unravel was welcome distraction from reality.
The outer office door opened and closed, and then opened and closed again. Luca kept working, gnawing occasionally at his lip.
Then the inner door opened, and Shianan entered with a tray. “Here,” he said. “You didn’t have lunch.”
Luca jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry. I should have gone.”
“Quiet. I went myself. I used to do that every meal, you know.” He indicated the tray. “This is yours. I’ve already eaten. Return it when you’ve finished. I’m off to supervise training and make arrangements for Harl.”
Luca asked before he could stop himself. “What’s happening to him?”
Shianan sighed. “He was drinking, and when confronted he became belligerent and tried to hit Captain Torg.” He shook his head. “Captain Torg isn’t one to be taken by a drunk man, but the assault was there, and it’s my place to deal with it.”
Luca knew the penalties for a slave striking a master, but not for a soldier who struck his officer. “And… you did?”
“He’ll be in the pillory tomorrow,” Shianan said flatly. “I should have had him strapped a little, but since he didn’t actually land a blow, I let that go.” He sighed. “I’ll return after training.”
“Goodbye, Master Shianan.” Luca took a piece of bread from the tray nearby and turned his attention again to the ledgers.
Chapter 29
Twilight came early with the advancing season. Shianan stretched his arm overhead, and his ribs twinged. He probably should not be training again so soon, but he had no excuse to offer for his absence. It was easier to work in short sessions than to devise a reason he shouldn’t.
Resentment flashed hot through his mind. It had not been his fault the shield failed, not really. But the king had found it easiest to blame him.
But then the resentment faded, leaving despair in its wake. Whether he bore the blame alone or not, Shianan had failed, and now the shield was gone and Ariana was trapped in the Ryuven world. Battered ribs were a small penalty for risking the kingdom and sacrificing Ariana.
He passed the fountain and then the platform and pillory, brought out for Harl’s punishment in the morning. There was little light visible in his quarters’ high-set windows. He let himself into the office and then into the next room.
The room was dark, with the exception of a single candle near Luca’s low mattress. By its light Shianan could see the slave studying a ledger, one leg folded beneath him and supporting the book, the other propped comfortably upright. It was the most at ease he could recall seeing him.
He closed the door quietly behind him, noting the slave had not yet leapt to his feet as he was inclined to do whenever seeing his master. “Luca?”
Luca jerked, dropping the book in his haste to rise. “Master Shianan! I—”
“You didn’t hear me. What are you doing in the dark?”
But instead of apologizing and offering to bring lights, Luca seized the book from the floor. “I’ve found it. I’ve found the system. It’s sloppy, which is why it was easy to find. They’re cheating you.”
Shianan looked from the nearly untouched tray of food to Luca’s excited face. “What?”
“Whoever is supplying your foodstuffs and your weapons, and they are different houses, but they’re cheating you. Handsomely, too! And your steward, or quartermaster, he is a part of it.”
Shianan looked at him more closely. “You’re sure of this?”
“Absolutely. As I said, they have not covered it well.”
“They knew none of us ever really checked the books,” Shianan said. “Why would we? We’re fighting men. Only the quartermaster sees this, and some runny-nosed noble son with a bought commission, and we sign it. You said they are cheating us handsomely?”
Luca nodded. “I have not had time to review the year in full, but judging from what I’ve seen, I would guess they are reaping perhaps a fifth.”
“A fifth?” Shianan repeated in shock. “You can’t be right.”
But Luca merely nodded insistently. “A fifth, easily. Every year you pay a fifth more than you should.”
“But for the army, in a year, that would be—” Shianan paused to calculate. “By all that—that’s a fortune.” He looked narrowly at Luca. “Are you certain of this? I can’t go to General Septime and accuse our suppliers and our quartermasters of theft and treason, not without proof.”
“Give me until morning,” Luca said eagerly, “and I’ll have your proof. It won’t be complete, but it will be enough for you to present to him, and any clerks he brings to pursue it will be able to find the rest easily enough.”
Shianan stared at him. “What is there for you in this?”
Luca looked confused. “My lord?”
“How do you profit if I report this? And how if I report it falsely? You won’t be freed if I’m caught in a false accusation.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “No! No, Master Shianan, no! I only—you told me to look over the books, and I did. I have not fabricated anything!”
Shianan sighed. “I’m sorry, Luca. That was—I had no reason to suspect you. It’s only that a fifth is an enormous amount. Unbelievable.”
“Then see for yourself.” Luca opened the book and laid his notes alongside. “They have overcharged here—most entries show fifty axles ordered, but here they ordered forty and yet paid the price of fifty. This same purchase of pork, delivered every two weeks, was entered once in this month’s ledger and once in last month’s, only a day apart. One shipment, paid twice. And there is more, that is not so quick to the eye—”
“I believe you,” Shianan said hastily. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” He looked at him. “You can really have a report by morning?”
“I can.” Luca actually smiled at him.
“Then get to work,” Shianan said, a little surprised by the smile. “And eat something.”
“Yes, Master Shianan.”
Luca returned to the office, where Shianan had a supply of paper, and began outlining clearer notes. Shianan began to clean his teeth, wondering at what Luca had revealed. A fifth—that was a phenomenal amount. How long had they been cheated?
Luca lit a fresh candle in the office, and Shianan closed the door against the light before going to bed.
When Shianan opened the office door in the
morning, Luca was still scratching notes, though his writing was no longer as neat and orderly. He turned reddened eyes to Shianan and stood. “I kept finding more,” he said hoarsely, “but I think it’s coherent enough.” He blotted a page. “Your general should be able to follow it.”
“I thought you would come with me to explain it.”
“Me? No, Master Shianan. You will have everything here.”
“But you did all this.”
Luca shook his head. “The general does not know I exist, much less that I’m reviewing his army’s accounts.” His voice dropped. “Please, Master Shianan, I don’t want to go.”
Shianan frowned. Was this the first time Luca had asked for something? He couldn’t remember.
Luca held out the folded sheets. “This is your work, Master Shianan. The master always is credited for the work of his slave. The smith is paid for the metals his slaves worked. The architect builds a bridge, though it is never his hands on tools or stone. And when the army conquers, isn’t it said King Jerome won a battle?” Luca halted with a catch of breath, eyes wide.
“What you say,” Shianan said flatly, “has too much truth for me to dispute your calling me a slave.” He tucked the papers safely inside his tunic. “Thank you for your work this night. Now get some rest.”
Shianan went out into the courtyard laden with ledgers, wishing he had a hand free to pull his cloak against the wind gusting around the corner. It was not yet the cold of winter, and yet it was a shock from the comfortable temperatures of the weeks before.
A small crowd had gathered to watch as Harl was inserted into the pillory. Two officers were present, one locking Harl into position and the other announcing his crime and punishment. Neither was Captain Torg. Shianan wanted to avoid the appearance of retaliation rather than discipline.
A few jeers came from the onlookers as Harl’s neck and wrists were locked into the stocks. That was to be expected, and Harl studiously ignored them. The officers stepped away, leaving him to his humiliation and discomfort. There was no guard, as the prominent location helped reduce the risk of the more dangerous pranks.
Shianan went to General Septime’s office, where the general’s servant relieved him of the books and stacked them neatly on the desk before asking him to wait. Shianan stood beside it and waited.
“Good morning, commander,” Septime offered as he entered.
“Good morning, sir. I’ve brought the accounts, but it’s more than just returning them.”
Septime gestured. “Have a seat.” The servant reappeared, bearing a tray. “May I offer you tea?”
“Thank you, sir.”
The slave poured out two measures of steaming tea, already brewed. Shianan must have caught the general at his meal. Septime took the lid from a small jar and dipped a drizzle of honey into his tea. “Go ahead,” he said, indicating the honey. “I know they ration it dearly in the hall.”
Shianan smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
The tea was excellent. Shianan savored it, wondering how to begin his revelation. He heard the quiet rattle of stoneware and then the slave returned with plates of eggs, sausage, fruit, and porridge. There was also toasted bread with generous slabs of butter. “Sir,” Shianan said, “I would have breakfasted with you every morning if I had known.”
Septime laughed. “Yes, having my own kitchen is an advantage. But you are not entirely without comforts, my boy. I see you now have a slave to keep your quarters.” He gave Shianan a significant look. “Did you get him at a good price?”
Shianan’s heart sank. “I don’t follow you, sir.”
“I think you do.” Septime cut apart a sausage. “But don’t worry. Where do you think I found Petar?” He nodded toward the slave. “He should have been sold along with other confiscated property. But it’s not such a bad lot here. He keeps my quarters, runs errands and messages, and cooks his breakfast alongside my own, except when I have an unexpected guest. Benefits to all.” Septime took another bite and gestured a dismissal to Petar. “Now, you said you had more business than merely returning the accounts, which I assume you have examined, more or less.”
“More than less,” Shianan answered, “which is what I wanted to show you.” He withdrew the notes Luca had made. “We—the king’s army—we’re being cheated.”
“Cheated? How so?”
Shianan moved his plate aside and spread the notes, taking a ledger from the stack at the edge of the desk. “Look here, sir. There’s a delivery of pork for the commissary every two weeks. And yet here are two payments, recorded on the last day of the month and the first day of the next. Both were paid in full to the merchant. Both were recorded, but in separate books, so the duplication might be overlooked though the accounts balanced.”
Septime put down his tea and leaned forward. “Go on.”
Chapter 30
Shianan returned to his office with an unfamiliar sensation burning warmly in his chest. Septime had been at first keenly interested, and then shocked, and finally outraged at the financial treachery—no doubt fueled by the knowledge they had likely missed the blatant robbery for years, with little interest and less training in examining the complex accounts. He had praised Shianan warmly for the discovery, and if he had noticed that Shianan’s notes were not in the same hand as his military reports, he had said nothing.
Shianan whistled a little as he opened his door, pleased at seeing his superior impressed rather than recalling his bone-melting humiliation before the king and others. He crossed his office, ignoring the papers on his desk, and went into his living quarters.
Luca was sleeping with his back to the window, snoring softly. Shianan stopped whistling. If he had not noted Luca’s ability to read, he mused, the deception might have continued for years more.
He reached for his sword, and the belt dragged across the chest at the foot of the bed. Luca jerked upright.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Luca shook his head, blinking, and got to his feet. “No, I’ve slept. I’ll see to the laundry.”
Shianan began buckling the sword in place, mentally recounting points he wanted to review in the afternoon’s training group. Luca followed him out with a basket of clothes.
They were halfway to the fountain when a chorus of rough laughter drew Shianan’s attention. Some of the soldiers had armed themselves with old fruit and were lobbing pieces at Harl. Something dark and juicy struck his temple, spattering over his face.
“Soldiers,” Shianan called, his tone colored only slightly, “if you’ve the time to spare, I have more duties to assign.”
Most of the men heard him and recalled business which took them across the courtyard. A few were too involved in their fun to notice and launched another volley, making Harl flinch as half-rotten scraps struck his face.
“Enough!” snapped Shianan. “Unless you’d like to be beside him, get to your own work.”
They looked over their shoulders in surprise and scattered. Shianan watched them go as Harl tried unsuccessfully to stretch his fingers to dislodge a piece of sticky fruit from his face.
When he turned back, Luca was staring at the pilloried soldier, the basket tipped unevenly in his loose grasp. His eyes were blank, seeing something more than just Harl. Shianan reached to tap him on the shoulder. “Hey.”
Luca started, nearly dropping the basket. “I—I’m sorry.”
“What were you thinking?”
Luca shook his head. “Nothing, master.”
Shianan noted the change in address. Beyond them Harl twisted, trying to scrape pulp from his eye, but he could not quite reach. Luca swallowed and glanced at Shianan before looking back at Harl, his expression shielded once more.
Shianan exhaled sharply. “We’ll see.” He gestured toward his quarters. “Put away the clothes.”
“Master Shianan?”
“Go.”
Luca did, perplexed but obedient. Shianan calculated; morning training had ended only a short while ago, and if he ate lunch over
his reports, he could spare an hour or so now. When Luca reappeared, he motioned for the slave to follow.
The soldiers performed their drills and some sparring in a large square. Around it were several smaller areas for group training, and set among them were a few rings, twenty paces or so in width, for individual practice or instruction. Shianan chose one of these, turning to face Luca once they were inside. “Do you know what this is?”
Luca swallowed. “It looks like the holding pens at Furmelle.”
“No, no.” Shianan went to the wall, made of heavy lumber to withstand impact—they occasionally fought more than each other here—and withdrew two staves from the mounted rack. “You won’t have many choices of weapon, but there’s usually something to hand that can be used as a staff. We’ll start with it.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “Master Shianan? I—I haven’t….”
“Take this one.” Shianan tossed the staff toward him.
Luca raised an arm to shield himself, and the staff bounced off his forearm to the sand. “I can’t!”
Shianan looked at him. “Take it.”
“No! I cannot. I am a merchant’s son, a bookkeeper—”
“Are you?” Shianan demanded. “I thought you were a slave. My slave, bound to obey my orders.” He pointed to the staff. “Pick it up.”
Luca did, moving slowly.
“Hold it in both hands, like so.” Shianan demonstrated. “Now, when I come at you—”
“Master, please,” Luca protested, his voice shaking. “I cannot do this.”
Shianan shrugged. “As you like. I am going to swing at you; you may block or not as it pleases you.” He made an exaggerated attack from the side, aiming clearly at Luca’s head.
Luca flinched, involuntarily jerking his arms. Shianan altered the path of his staff so that it rapped Luca’s smartly between his hands and bounced away. “That will do for a start.”
Luca raised his head, opening his eyes wide. “But I….”
“You blocked my attack, as I wanted.” Shianan was beginning to sense how very tenuous Luca’s hold was, riding the edge of panic. “Again.” He made another deliberate and obvious swing, and Luca almost against his will ducked beneath the staff. Shianan again missed the easy target and let his staff bounce off Luca’s. “You see?”
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