Treachery's Tools (55 page)

“For now,” replied Alastar. “I'd like a better sense of whether we've removed all of the brown-shirts from L'Excelsis before we let them venture off Imagisle. For the older imagers, I'd suggest that if they feel they must leave Imagisle, they have a good reason, that they do so during the day, and that they don't do so alone. We can reduce the number of patrols and go to one additional maitre on duty for now.”

There were reluctant nods around the table.

After a few more questions about schedules, Alastar called an end to the meeting, and he and Alyna returned to his study.

“I was initially surprised at some of what Arion said,” offered Alyna, “until I thought it over.”

“You mean,” replied Alastar, “that Ryel is personally opposed to taking up arms, but not opposed to others doing so … or to sending golds to those who do?”

“Cynical of me, I know,” returned Alyna. “It goes against all the teaching of Rholan and the precepts of the Nameless.” Her smile was patently and falsely sweet.

Alastar almost laughed but managed just to shake his head. “Iskhar would be so disappointed with the low esteem in which we hold our most noble High Holders.”

“No, he wouldn't. He'd only be disappointed if we voiced it in public.”

“You're probably right about that.” Alastar stopped as he heard the knock on the door. “Yes?”

Maercyl opened the door and handed him an envelope. “Sir, this came from High Holder Meinyt of the High Council.”

“Thank you.” Alastar took the envelope. He did not sit down as he slit the envelope, took out the missive, and began to read.

Maitre Alastar—

I have just received word that High Holder Paellyt was foully murdered on his own lands yesterday. He was apparently checking on the condition of a prize mare when his throat was slit. The killer has not been found, but his family has reason to believe the death was the work of a disgruntled factor …

Alastar nodded. He would have been very surprised if he didn't know exactly who the killer was.

 … Incidents such as this can only make the majority of High Holders more restive and less amenable to a resolution of the conflicts between the High Holders and the rex, I believe it would be very much in the interests of the Collegium, the rex, and the High Council if we could meet at your earliest convenience to discuss this and other related matters in hopes of coming to a resolution, rather than having misunderstandings fuel the spread of the current High Holder displeasure with Rex Lorien and the Collegium. While repairs are ongoing at the Chateau D'Council, I will be at my residence.

Current displeasure? That's a bit of an understatement.
Alastar took a deep breath. While he just wanted to shake his head, it sounded like he needed to talk to Meinyt immediately, whether or not he wanted to.

He handed the letter to Alyna. “This isn't totally unexpected, but…”

She read it quickly, then looked up. “You're right. He likely deserved it, but it's going to enrage the High Holders even more.”

There was a second knock on the door.

“Trouble comes double,” said Alyna sardonically.

Dareyn eased the door ajar. “A messenger just arrived from the chateau, sir.” He extended an envelope.

“Thank you.” Alastar took the envelope and slit it open. The message was short. Very short.

We would appreciate seeing you at your earliest convenience this morning.

Beneath the words were the letter “L” and the regial seal.

Alastar handed the sheet to Alyna.

“That's about as close to a command as he's made recently.”

“I suspect he's just discovered what we did yesterday. I'd best head out. He usually isn't up all that early.”

“No … only on the days when it's inconvenient for you.” Alastar offered a wry smile.

Three quints later, he was striding along the upper north corridor in the Chateau D'Rex, accompanied by Captain Churwyl.

From somewhere came the scent of roses, most likely from Lady Chelia's private sitting room, thought Alastar.
She might need every distraction from Lorien these days.
“He's not been pleased with much, I take it?” Alastar kept his voice low.

“I couldn't speak to that, sir.”

Alastar took that for an affirmative. “Until we get the High Holders firmly in hand, he may not be too pleased about much.”

Churwyl did not reply, not that Alastar expected that he would.

When they reached the study door, Churwyl nodded to the guard on duty, rapped on the door, and announced, “Maitre Alastar to see you, your Grace.”

“Send him in.”

The guard opened the door, and Alastar entered. As was almost always the case, the door was quickly closed behind him. He walked to the desk and seated himself across from Lorien.

“You're prompt enough this morning. Why didn't I know about what you did yesterday? Marshal Wilkorn sent me a dispatch about your requisitioning his troops to attack and invade a High Holder's estate.” Lorien's voice began to rise as he continued, “Wasn't that beyond the scope of the Collegium? Don't you think I have enough trials with High Holders as it is without your making matters worse? Why do you persist in this?”

“I didn't let you know yesterday because we didn't finish dealing with the rebel brown-shirts until past eighth glass last night. I was setting out to see you this morning when I received your message. As for why I am persisting, as you put it, it's because that estate held a company of the same kind of brown-shirts who attacked the Chateau D'Rex. They were the same brown-shirts that destroyed the factorage and family of Factorius Naathyn and destroyed the river port tower … and killed nearly half a score of innocent young imagers. The last thing you need is a rebel force here in L'Excelsis while another one is marching toward you from the south.”

“You still should have informed me. There is the small matter of my being the rex, and your acting as if you were by ordering my troopers to attack a High Holder.”

“We didn't attack a High Holder. I requested troopers from the marshal after we discovered the brown-shirts on Laevoryn's estate. The troopers have the authority to investigate and deal with rebels. We did not know that they would attack. We never attacked High Holder Laevoryn personally, but he attempted to kill Captain Weidyn. As a result, Weidyn's troopers shot Laevoryn. Imagers did not attack Laevoryn. He died because he committed an overt act of rebellion against you.”

Lorien's glare faded … somewhat. “At least you've thought this one out. More than what should have been done in dealing with my brother. Pardon me, my half brother. Do you realize what a trial it is, how totally unsuitable it is, to be married to my brother's half sister?”

“At the time, it would have caused more trouble.”

“At the time. What about now?”

“What do you suggest we do? The only proof we have is a messenger in your brother's livery. If you execute him on those grounds without more proof, you'll have an even bigger rebellion on your hands, and not because he's your brother, but because he's a High Holder. That's why I wanted Wilkorn's troops—because the brown-shirts fired on them, and that's an armed rebellion by men in the same uniform that attacked the chateau here. Not even your worst enemies can say you exceeded your authority or rights in attacking Laevoryn's estate. He was harboring armed troopers who attacked your chateau. He died in the act of rebellion.” Alastar knew he was going over the same ground again, but it seemed necessary.
More than necessary.

“They can't have been the same ones. You and your imagers killed most of those.”

Alastar did not sigh, much as he wanted to. “There is a rebel army raised and funded by High Holders. All of the rebel troops that have so far appeared and attacked in L'Excelsis have been uniformed in brown. Your troopers attacked troopers wearing the same uniforms after hearing reports that those brown-shirts attacked more student imagers, killed an entire family and burned a factorage, and then fired the old port tower. Those brown-shirts did not surrender, but immediately fired upon your troopers. Those are more than grounds enough for your actions.”

“My actions?”

“The actions of troopers under the command of Marshal Wilkorn, who is your marshal of the army.”

“The High Holders won't like it.”

“The ones who aren't already rebelling will accept it. It doesn't matter what the ones who are rebelling think because they've gone so far that nothing except defeat in battle will stop them.”

“Why are they so willful?”

“Because many of them are losing power to the wealthier factors. They want you to change things back to the older ways so that they won't. For the most part, the factors are the ones who are making things better. They're paying more and more in tariffs, while the High Holders are demanding lower tariffs. As the number of High Holders declines, so will the total amount of golds collected from them. In fact, from what you've said previously, that's already happening.” Alastar paused, then said, “There's one other matter.”

“Another trial you've foisted on me?”

“No. Another trial foisted on you by High Holder arrogance. You may recall I'd mentioned the burning of Naathyn's factorage by the brown-shirts. Well, it seems that was because…” Alastar went on to explain the events and the report he had just received about Paellyt's death.

Lorien snorted. “I'd like to see a few of them cut up like that. If the boy survives, maybe I should grant him Laevoryn's lands and assets.” His brief smile faded. “There's something else. Minister Sanafryt tells me that in several pending hearings, High Holders have refused to appear, or even to have advocates representing them appear. I cannot have that. I won't!”

“It might be best to concentrate on putting down the armed rebellion first. After that, the army will be free to deal with individual High Holders, and there shouldn't be many complaints if Marshal Wilkorn requests the assistance of imagers in order to reduce the bloodshed.”

“I don't like it.”

Alastar decided to wait.

Finally, Lorien said, “I can see why it has to be that way, but I'm still not happy. It's just another unnecessary trial.”

“It's a trial,” Alastar admitted.
But one that is necessary and one that had to happen sooner or later, given how arrogant many of the High Holders are.

“We've talked enough. I'm going to walk in the garden to get the stench out of my nostrils.” Lorien stood.

So did Alastar. “By your leave?”

“Go. Try not to surprise me again.”

“I'll do my best, but I won't be speaking for the High Holders.” Alastar inclined his head, then turned and left.

Once he left the chateau, he headed down the white stone steps that still showed no wear and no marks from four hundred years of service, the thought of which again called up a certain wonder about Quaeryt.
How on Terahnar did he do all that he did?

Coermyd was waiting with the gray gelding at the foot of the steps at the edge of the paved area for coaches and mounts. “Back to the Collegium, sir?”

“No. We're headed to High Holder Meinyt's. Did you see anything interesting while you were waiting?”

“Everyone watches you, sir.” Coermyd shrugged. “Other than that … there were wagons and coaches on the ring road, and there weren't any other visitors to the chateau.”

“There usually aren't too many,” Alastar replied as he mounted and turned the gelding eastward down the paved entry lane to the ring road, heading toward the Boulevard D'Ouest. The clouds he had barely glimpsed earlier were now forming an even line across the sky to the southeast, but didn't seem to be moving that swiftly.
And if they hold rain, that means it will rain for a long time … too long.

At the northernmost point on the ring road, Alastar turned onto the Boulevard D'Ouest, heading east. What Alastar saw as he rode—that everything in L'Excelsis seemed to be just another day—reinforced his belief that most people could have cared less who ruled Solidar, just so long as the ruler didn't upset their lives too much.
Or at all.
Only those with golds, factorages, or lands really worried about who ruled … and imagers, because those with power could destroy the Collegium, and in time, essentially enslave imagers.

When the two reached the West River Road, they turned north, and shortly thereafter, turned northwest on a narrower if stone-paved road that bordered the unnamed stream. In less than a quint, they rode through the stone gateposts, whose iron gates were drawn open, and up the stone-paved lane to the small covered portico on the east side of the two-story gray stone structure overlooking the stream.

As before, a footman in green livery trimmed in gray appeared at the top of the portico steps as Alastar reined up. “Welcome, Maitre. High Holder Meinyt thought you would be here early this afternoon. Let me escort you to the study.” The footman turned to Coermyd. “There is water for the mounts and some refreshment for you in the rear courtyard.”

“Thank you.” Coermyd nodded, then urged his mount forward, tugging gently on the gray gelding's reins as well.

Meinyt was standing by the window, looking downhill to the south at the stream beyond a low stone wall, when Alastar entered the study. The High Holder turned and gestured to the chairs set on each side of a circular table. “I appreciate your response.”

“You did express a certain sense of urgency,” replied Alastar as he seated himself. “It seemed proper to respond in like fashion.”

“You sound as though it was not necessarily that urgent.”

“Were you aware of the situation that led to High Holder Paellyt's slaughter? And to several other deaths?”