The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (23 page)

“Assure him that however it may look, whatever I may seem to be doing, as long as he stands armed at the Amirathan frontier, I won't attack.”

Emelasuntha nodded.

through me?”

“No, I could not. It is vital that to the outside world it looks as if he himself came to this decision. In no way must it seem like something we arranged. There are other reasons as well. The high king of Ximerion can only give orders to the lord governor of the Northern Marches. Anything else would be an insult to the royal authority and would make a mockery of the majesty of the crown. I can never negotiate, even less haggle, with some self-proclaimed warlord of a rebellious province. Make no mistake, Madam, that is exactly what your son is.”

“Suddenly he is my son… but you need him.”

“That is as may be, Madam, but it doesn't change the facts. In his newfangled, boisterous motto he proclaims to defend what is his. Well, so do I. Our son would be well advised to keep that in mind.”

“He is our son again?”
the queen thought, amused.

“My task would be easier if I knew what prompted this strange request,” she said tentatively.

“I don't doubt that for one instant, but I can't tell you anything more than I already did. Whatever Anaxantis may think, the world doesn't revolve around him. There are very important issues at stake that depend on his compliance in this matter.”

“I have your word that if he concentrates his troops on the Amirathan border, you won't attack?”

“You have.”

“I have your word that this operation serves a worthy purpose that doesn't run contrary to the best interests of Great Renuvia?”

Tenaxos felt a surge of anger rising at the mention of the name.

teeth.

“Then you have my word that I will do all that is in my power to convince him of the expediency of this maneuver.”

“Thank you,” the high king said curtly, grudgingly. “Remember. It is vital that neither my nor your hand is seen in how he came to this decision.”

“I understand,” Emelasuntha said.

“As much as I would love to enjoy your company some more, Madam, I must take my leave. The employment of my time is not mine to decide. I have pressing business elsewhere.”

“I have an appointment I already will be late for myself,” the queen answered evenly.

She raised her hand in the air and gave a signal with her index finger. The men behind the high king's retinue rode off.

“The way is free. Until we meet again, My Lord.”

Tenaxos mounted his horse. Dennick looked questioningly at him.

“She'll convince him. Even better, with any luck nobody will ever know I was behind this.”

“Without telling him that all this is by your request?”

“Oh no, that is precisely the very first thing she will tell him. But to the outside world they will keep up appearances.”

The secretary looked doubtfully at the king.

“They will keep their own counsel,” the king smiled reassuringly.

“At least until they've had a chance to find out why I asked him to do this, and by then he will probably think it wise to play along.”

“It seems so. Let's hope the next step is as rewarding. We'll collect the others, and then off we go to our next destination.”

Again Dennick looked inquiringly at his king.

“To the Damydas demesne,” Tenaxos said.

Gorth had arrived in Ormidon the first week of November.

He had found lodgings in the Narvall district. With the money Ehandar had given him he could easily have afforded something in the better quarters of the capital, even in the center, but he wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

After having taken care of that, and being a young man with needs, he went to a high-class whorehouse that catered to the nobility and rich burghers. He knew the place, and the girls were clean there.

His second destination was the offices of Prandon & Malchiam, the notaries of Ehandar. He introduced himself as the representative of the duke of Ronickah and was immediately taken to the private study of Randeck Prandon, who, as it turned out, personally took care of the prince's business.

Gorth nodded.

“Yes, it is. Thank you. Before I take a look at the records, could you summarize, in general terms, the current state of His Highness's assets?”

Randeck Prandon didn't blink an eye. He leaned back and let his fat hands rest on the arms of the chair.

“Maybe you know — or not — but our task became rather simple.

Almost a year ago we received a letter from His Highness in which he ordered us to transfer all his liquid assets, the deeds to most of his demesnes, and the interests he had in some businesses to his younger brother, His Highness Prince Anaxantis. Consequently we drew up a final state of affairs and sent the lot to our colleagues, Meyman, Gernon & Staffling, who duly signed for receipt and, after a thorough investigation, declared everything in order. They gave us a release, which you will find in the records.”

“Didn't you find it strange, the prince signing away all his assets like that?”

Randeck Prandon lifted both his hands in a helpless gesture.

“Ah, My Lord, to tell you the truth: yes, I thought it a most peculiar move. On the other hand, everything remained in the royal family, so to speak, and there could have been any number of valid reasons for our august client's decision. His Highness didn't see fit to consult us — he was far away from the capital, after all — nor to enlighten us as to his reasons. I must admit I had my doubts as to the wisdom of his decision, but, then again, it is not our place as notaries to second-guess our clients. And of course not everything was transferred.”

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Gorth raised his eyebrows.

“To begin with there is the duchy of Ronickah. While His Highness is the titular duke since birth, the duchy itself is a crown domain. Essentially he only holds the usufruct rights. The revenue is transferred quarterly into his account by the Royal Administration. They then send us a complete statement. Incidentally, that's how we knew that this silly rumor that there had been a renunciation on his part was completely unfounded. The money kept coming, as did the proceeds of the two counties. All that would have stopped if His Highness, eh, had ceased to exist — pardon the expression.”

“Counties?” Gorth asked, ignoring the rest of Prandon's explanation.

“Didn't you know? His Highness was also created count of both Warrandell and Cronward. They as well are managed by the Royal Administration.”

“But he didn't transfer these to his brother, as he did with his other lands?”

“No, he didn't. I can only guess he wanted this, eh, transaction to remain as discreet as possible. As I said before, the duchy of Ronickah isn't his to give away. He could have endowed his brother with Cronward and Warrandell, but it would have meant involving the Royal Administration. It is highly likely questions would have been asked. At the very least it would have been noticed.”

“So, he gave his brother everything he could without raising suspicion?”

The plump notary nodded.

“That's the gist of it. The result is that His Highness's coffers are not completely depleted, as they were last year. Considerable sums have accumulated out of the three domains, and no withdrawals were made. Of course, there is nowhere as much as there used to be.”

20
“It's good to hear there is something at least.”

“Oh, not just something, My Lord, I assure you. We have been able to continue the few modest monthly payments His Highness had ordered us to make. As you will find in the records, those had dwindled to a single payment each month of forty moltars. The other beneficiaries died, or the terms of their contract came to an end. There was a short period of a few months, between the transfer of the liquid assets and the arrival of the next revenues of the estates, when there was no money at all. We thought it best to advance the required sums out of our own coffers.”

“I will make it a point to inform the prince of your loyal gesture,”

Gorth said.

Randeck smiled.

“We like to make just that little bit of extra effort for our clients, you see,” the notary purred.

In fact the money had come out of an emergency fund, set up when Ehandar, shortly after his sixteenth birthday, started patronizing the firm. It was mainly meant to make sure the notaries would receive their remuneration. The account was separately managed.

“I am sure His Highness will be most appreciative,” Gorth answered. “For now, I'd like to know the name of the last person you are paying a monthly stipend. And I want to see the contents of the box, as mentioned in His Highness's letter.”

Standor Riggtar had left the Royal Castle at Ormidon through the main gate, as befitted a senior member of the Royal Administration.

Less usual for a man in his position was that he was on foot. Every day he walked from and to his little house near the city walls. He could have afforded a horse, but he didn't want to go to the expenditure and the bother, not to mention the cost of its upkeep. His doctor had told 20
him that a daily brisk walk was the best way to keep healthy. Two brisk walks were even better. That this particular preventative medicine was free made it all the more attractive to Standor.

He never had married. A few disappointing relationships in his youth had seen to that. Whatever sexual drive he had, was easily satisfied by his housekeeper. Had been for almost twenty-five years now.

She wasn't married either. She was nice enough to look at, but she had gotten pregnant at a very young age, the father had disappeared, and that was that as far as prospects for matrimonial bliss were concerned.

She had to provide for herself and her baby. Although from a good family she hadn't found it beneath her to do household chores for a living. And something extra for some extra money. By now they understood each other without words. He only had to nod in the direction of the stairs to his bedroom.

There never had developed something that could remotely be called love. Their relation was too businesslike for that. But there was something akin to friendship. This one time, years ago, when she had been in some financial difficulty, the particulars of which she didn't want to go into, he had simply asked, “How much?” She had given him a figure, and said, “I'll pay you back.” To which he had replied, “No need.” But she had her pride, and had reimbursed him in small amounts over the next five years or so. It had been a strange gesture on his part, one he himself was at some difficulty to explain, as he was ordinarily very parsimonious. He finally decided that he wasn't so much stingy as reluctant to spend money needlessly. In this case it had been needed.

He liked living on his own. He liked routine. It felt comfortable. It was cozy. He was perfectly capable of cooking a simple meal for himself, and for the rest he had his books. And, of course, the occasional romp with his maid.

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He came to a little square with food stands, where he did most of his shopping. Today, his choice fell on brochettes with pieces of pork, lamb and onion skewered alternatively on wooden sticks. He had some leftover soup and dark bread at home, so the cooking would be a breeze this evening. To his horror the man behind the stall ripped a page of vellum out of an old book and used it to wrap his purchase in.

He recognized it immediately as the second tome of a rare, ancient history in three parts of Ximerion.

The series was incomplete, obviously, as the first book was probably already used by the stall keeper. The second was half destroyed, but he managed to buy the third one for a song and a dance. His book lover's heart bled, but the investor in him jubilated. He already possessed the invaluable complete series two times over, and the fact that another one had been destroyed meant they had just gone up in value.