Madness in Solidar (57 page)

The guard there glanced at the oncoming group, then back at Alastar, then swallowed. “Ah … perhaps you should go up and announce yourself, sir.”

“Thank you.” Alastar inclined his head politely, then made his way inside the chateau, up the grand staircase, and back to the study.

The guard at the study door stiffened slightly as Alastar approached, then rapped, and announced, “Maitre Alastar, sir.”

“Have him come in.”

Lorien rose from behind the goldenwood table desk.

Before the rex could speak, Alastar asked, because he wanted to bring up the subject before the others arrived, “How are you coming on your tariff proposal for the High Council?”

“I hope to have that ready by Meredi. Have you seen the marshals?”

“They were approaching when I entered the chateau.”

“You didn't wait for them, I see. Interesting.”

“I thought it might be better if I were here first.”

“Better for you. Is it better for me?”

“I would think so, because it implies that I am united in purpose with you.”

“Unfortunately, you're likely correct.” Lorien glanced toward the window and the gray skies to the north. “How much do you distrust the marshals?”

“I trust them to react to anything that would threaten or reduce their power.”

“Are you any different, Maitre?”

“In that respect, no. The difference is that I'm fighting for a very small group of people whose very lives will be threatened if I fail. The marshals are fighting for personal power and glory. They could take stipends and live comfortably for the rest of their lives if they do not agree with what you or I might propose. As shown by Demykalon's acts, any great failure on the part of the Maitre of the Collegium could result in the death of many if not most imagers.”

“Your acts killed hundreds. Theirs only killed, what, a score.”

“But a score is one part in five of all imagers in Solidar. A hundred troopers lost is one trooper out of every seventy-five just here in L'Excelsis. It's not only the total number, but the impact, both on the imagers … and on your future.”

“I might beg to differ…” Lorien broke off his words as the duty guard announced, “Acting Marshal Petayn and Sea Marshal Wilkorn.”

The smooth-faced Petayn was the first to enter, his graying black hair perfectly in place, and wearing the silver starbursts of a full marshal, rather than the gold of a submarshal. Behind him was another marshal, most likely the sea marshal. While Petayn was of average height, perhaps a digit or two shorter than Alastar, Wilkorn was a broad-shouldered, hefty figure close to half a head taller than the Maitre.

“Your Grace,” offered Petayn, inclining his head.

Wilkorn merely nodded.

Lorien gestured to the small conference table. Alastar took the seat to Lorien's left, and Petayn to his right, leaving Wilkorn in the seat facing Lorien.

“I trust you had no difficulties in returning your forces to headquarters, Marshal,” offered Lorien as an opening statement.

“They are all where they should be, sir.”

Lorien raised his eyebrows.

“On post at headquarters. Even those who died as a result of the perhaps excessive reaction of the imagers to warning shots fired at Imagisle.”

“In less than half a glass,” said Alastar quietly, “the cannon killed or wounded more than a score, largely students, cooks, and others who posed no threat to anyone, damaged four structures, and destroyed two completely. You will pardon me if I express a certain doubt that those were warning shots.”

“I share that doubt,” added Lorien, “but the late Marshal Demykalon has paid for those excesses, and the purpose of this meeting is to discuss the future of the army and the navy of Solidar. At present, as I recall, Marshal Petayn, you have some eight regiments of troopers, three of which are posted at headquarters. And you, Marshal Wilkorn, have a fleet of twelve ships. According to the orders issued by Ryen, Rex Regis, and his predecessors, the size of the army was to be fixed at six regiments. The size of the fleet was set at twelve ships, with periodic replacements as necessary. Are there any questions about those orders?” Lorien looked to Petayn, then Wilkorn.

“No, sir,” replied Petayn, then the sea marshal.

“Why might you have eight regiments instead of six, and why three in L'Excelsis, instead of two?”

“I have no idea, sir,” replied Petayn. “Those decisions were made by Marshal Demykalon, and I was not privy to them.”

Alastar very much had his doubts about that, but said nothing.

“You will, then, over the next year, reduce the number of regiments to six. You will also reduce the number of officers correspondingly. Six of the standard size, and not outsized regiments. You will provide a monthly report of your progress to me. Should you disregard this order, which I will provide in writing, it will be regarded as treason, and you will be punished accordingly. Is that clear?”

“Very clear.” Petayn's voice was pleasant, almost as if he had expected such an order.

Perhaps he had, reflected Alastar. Because Lorien had already informed him? Or someone else had?

“That brings us to the question of the piracy taking place in the Southern Gulf. Maitre Alastar and the factors of Solidar have proposed some measures to deal with the pirates, including building smaller armed vessels and relocating one or more regiments to patrol the shores in those areas where the pirates appeared to have based themselves. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter. You first, Marshal Petayn.”

“I have no objection to relocating some forces to pursue the pirates, but that will require some additional funding…”

“I am most certain you can find a way to accomplish the tasks within current funding, perhaps by a rapid reduction in force and certain other economies. I look forward to seeing your proposal and trust it will include the movement of more than a regiment from L'Excelsis to, shall we say, the vicinity of Lucayl.” Lorien smiled politely and looked to Wilkorn.

The sea marshal did not look at the rex, but at Alastar. After a moment, he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “I understand you are proposing that Rex Lorien's priority in naval vessels should be small shallow-water gunboats, little more than armed schooners or sloops. That won't help us in the slightest in dealing with the Ferrans, or even the Jariolans. They aren't building shallow-draft vessels—”

“Ferrum doesn't have a large shallow expanse of water bordering its largest port,” countered Alastar, “the way Solidar does with the waters surrounding the shipping channels to Solis. Ferrum isn't losing ships and cargoes every year to pirates.”

“You don't need ships. Deal with the pirates from the shore side, the way Rex Lorien has suggested,” said Wilkorn.

“I'm glad to hear that you see the wisdom in that,” said Alastar warmly. “If two of the three regiments posted here in L'Excelsis were transferred to Lucayl and perhaps Thuyl and elsewhere around the Southern Gulf, together with a few gunboats, you might be able to reduce or eliminate the pirates, and that would increase factor support of the expansion of the navy…”

“You keep talking about shallow-water gunboats,” declared Wilkorn. “We don't even have enough true warships. Both the Ferrans and the Jariolans have fleets far larger than ours, and Emperor Josef V of Ferrum has commissioned three new ships of the line. They're already under construction. Gunboats must wait.”

Alastar sighed. Loudly. “Even if Rex Lorien had the funds to build a flotilla of what you call true warships, which at the moment he does not, it would take years to construct all the ships you need. In those years, our merchants and traders will lose ships to pirates every year. Each ship that is lost means tariffs that are not paid. At the very least, a handful of small gunboats able to patrol the shallow waters of the Southern Gulf will result in more tariffs, possibly enough to greatly defer the cost of their construction. At present, there would be little such gain from your warships, Sea Marshal.” As Alastar saw the big man's face begin to redden, he held up a hand to forestall an outburst. “Over time, you are undoubtedly correct that Solidar needs more new warships, particularly those armed with the newer cannon developed during the time of Marshal Demykalon. But since funds are limited, it is prudent to develop the best plans for those warships over the next year and to begin to construct them in, say, the middle of the following year.”

“The middle of the
following
year?”

“Unless you and Marshal Petayn can find funding out of that which remains in the army coffers. Then it might be possible to commence construction earlier.”

Wilkorn looked to Petayn.

The acting marshal shrugged. “I have not had the opportunity to study the master ledgers in enough detail to see where economies might be made. If we could have a few days to conduct such a review and provide our recommendations?”

“That would seem reasonable. Next Lundi at this same time.” Lorien turned to Alastar. “I'd also appreciate a similar report on the financial state of the Collegium.” Then he stood. As the marshals rose and began to leave, he added in a low voice to Alastar, “Fourth glass tomorrow. As usual.”

By the time that Alastar was riding away from the Chateau D'Rex with the two thirds, he had definite feelings that, regardless of what Petayn had promised, nothing was going to happen quickly … and not at all, if Petayn could manage it. Not only that, but he also had the feeling that the entire meeting had been a charade, conducted almost solely for his benefit. Nor had anyone mentioned the two regiments of naval marines. All that left him with another thought, that Lorien was far more devious than his sire had been. Alastar also wasn't happy with Lorien's delay in preparing the tariff message. Stating what the tariff levels would be for the coming year was hardly difficult, although checking receipts after the fact would be time-consuming.

Alastar could see stalling a decision on reducing the size of the army, as well as what ships to build and when to build them.
But what does Lorien gain by stalling the tariff announcement? Is Petayn pressing him to raise tariffs by more to avoid reducing the size of the army?
That was the simplest and most likely explanation, but Alastar had come to understand that, in L'Excelsis, the simplest and most sensible reason was seldom the answer to a question.

He was still mulling over those questions when he entered the Maitre's dwelling and made his way toward the study. Dareyn immediately rose from his small table and handed a sealed letter to Alastar. “It's from High Holder Vaun. That's what the dispatch rider said.”

The tan wax of the seal tended to confirm that, and Alastar took his belt knife and slit open the envelope. He began to read. The text was simple.

Maitre—

The High Council will be meeting on Mardi, 31 Feuillyt, the first glass of the afternoon at the Chateau D'Council. Your presence would be welcome, since the matter will affect both the High Holders and the Collegium.

I trust I will be seeing you.

The signature and seal were those of Vaun.

Trust I will be seeing you?
Alastar snorted.
As if you could afford not to be there after all that has happened.

“There's also another letter, sir. From Factor Elthyrd.” Dareyn smiled apologetically.

Elthyrd's letter was shorter than Vaun's and more to the point, asking if Alastar could oblige him by meeting him at his factorage at Alastar's convenience sometime Meredi morning.

Alastar immediately wrote a reply agreeing to meet Elthyrd at eighth glass, even as he wondered precisely what the head factor had in mind.
Information about tariffs? Or Lorien? The last of the sewer repairs?
Alastar shook his head. It could be any of those … or something else entirely. After signing the missive and giving it to Dareyn for dispatch, Alastar returned to his desk and sat down, his mind returning to Lorien and Petayn.

 

33

After the morning meeting of senior imagers on Mardi, Alyna remained in the study and laid several sheets of paper on Alastar's desk. “These are rough sketches of the administration building that include the more feasible suggestions of the various maitres.”

“More feasible? Such as the location of studies for the maitres?”

“Also a small grand hall, one that can be used for an imager justicing hall. You'd suggested something along those lines.”

Alastar managed not to smile. He'd only suggested open disciplinary meetings, but Alyna, he suspected, had taken that idea a step further.
But it's a good idea, and likely overdue.
“What else?”

“Separate vaults in the lower level for golds and important records and artifacts.”

“Such as the founder's sabre?”

“Petros's men did find it, you know. There's not much left but the blade and tang.”

“So much for its indestructibility.”

“The indestructible blade … wasn't that the one that went back to Khel?”

“I have my doubts about its indestructibility as well.”

“You? After telling the thirds about the indestructibility of the walls of the Chateau D'Rex?”

Alastar wondered how she'd heard about that, but did not press. Instead, he said, “Tell me about the plans and why you located things where you did.”

Almost a glass later, he straightened and stretched out his back. He hadn't even realized that it had gotten cramped. “I can't believe what you've done. These are only rough plans?”

“Very rough. I'll have to work out the foundation and wall thicknesses, how the windows will be supported, and where they'll be placed so that the light inside is good while the windows are symmetrical, both from inside and outside…”