Endgames Page 8

  The rest of the morning was spent on a tour of the ironworks, where Charyn was introduced as Factor Suyrien and the new owner of the ironworks. Charyn made clear to Engineer Ostraaw, the chief foreman of the ironworks, that while he would inspect the works regularly, all correspondence and documents were to be sent to the Banque D’Excelsis, since sending them to Chaeryll would actually mean it would be longer before Factor Suyrien saw them. Charyn took his time inspecting the entire works and asking questions, including a request to Ostraaw that clearly surprised the engineer.

  “I’d like you to consider the best location for a manufactorage that would be capable of forging heavy iron assemblies to exacting tolerances.”

  “Unless I know how large and how many, sir…”

  “The size of the assemblies will be a minimum of several hundredweight.”

  Ostraaw’s eyebrows rose.

  “It will likely be several months, most likely much longer, but I would appreciate your thinking about it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charyn had spent almost a glass talking to Ostraaw, whom Estafen had brought in to handle the day-to-day operation of the ironworks, and had left with a sense of the man’s competence. Still, he knew he’d need to spend more time there.

  By Samedi morning, after his exercise and other routine morning activities, including a meeting with Guard Captain Maertyl, Charyn was still pondering his purchase. It certainly hadn’t been spur of the moment. He’d been trying to accomplish it for over seven months. And now you’re wondering if it will work out. Except, over time, much as he disliked the idea, he knew the rifleworks would be profitable, especially the longer-range rifles used by the naval marines, since it didn’t appear that the undeclared war between Solidar and Jariola was likely to end anytime soon.

  His pondering was interrupted by the arrival of a letter from Aloryana, which he immediately opened and began to read.

  … I know I told you this on Solayi, but I was so glad you came for refreshments, and I’m looking forward to the kind of family dinner at the Chateau next month. Malyna and I can show Lystara around. Do you think we could play the duet again?

  Charyn smiled. That was something he’d enjoy doing.

  When he finished the letter, he placed it with the others from her in the cabinet behind the desk, then turned his attention to the latest reports from the regional governors in Tilbora and Khel, which, while long and detailed, said very little except that both feared hot and dry summers, except in the far northeast of Tilbora, which had endured heavy winter snows and unseasonal spring rains. Since most of that part of Tilbora was mountainous and heavily forested, and the rivers in that area flowed west into the Northern Ocean, and not into the northeastern croplands, that might mean a good year for the trees, but not for much else.

  Much later, after dressing for the dinner, in formal greens, Charyn made his way to the music room, where he seated himself at the clavecin and began to play, starting with Farray’s Nocturne Number Three. Then he went through his part of the Farray duet he’d played with Aloryana.

  Just as he finished, he noticed that Elacia had entered the music room. Rather than continue immediately, he asked, “Is there a problem of some sort?”

  “No. I wondered who was playing so well, because you hadn’t asked for entertainment.”

  “I just play for myself … and family.”

  “You play as well as many professional musicians, Charyn. I had no idea.”

  “I play certain pieces moderately well, thanks to Musician Palenya. I definitely don’t have the repertoire of a professional.”

  “She’s no longer here.”

  “No. She’s become the music master at the Collegium. They didn’t have one, and Aloryana and Maitre Malyna, among others, wanted to continue to study and improve.”

  Elacia nodded. “You’re much more … quiet than your father. It suits you and Solidar.” After a pause, she said, “I’m going to make sure that the sideboards in the reception room are properly set up. I do hope you’ll play a little more.”

  “I will. The next piece won’t sound as good. I need to work on it.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine.” Elacia turned and left the music room.

  Charyn doubted that, since the next piece he wanted to work on was “Pavane in a Minor Key,” which was far harder. He spent more than two quints just working on the first two pages, then played the far simpler Farray piece that had been the first one he’d learned under Palenya’s tutelage. He would have liked to have played more, but fifth glass was nearing.

  So he stood, put away the music for the pavane, and then made his way from the music room, closing the door behind himself. Since the dinner with the selected officers of the High Command was to be comparatively less formal and he didn’t have to be announced, he entered the reception room adjoining the formal dining room half a quint before fifth glass, nodding to the servers and making his way to the sideboard.

  “The Tacqueville white, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charyn took a slow swallow of the slightly buttery pale golden vintage, then another, waiting as Elacia appeared and joined him.

  “Everything is set, and the first carriage is at the steps.”

  “Thank you.”

  The first couples to enter the reception room were Marshal Vaelln and his wife Sephia, followed by Vice-Marshal Maurek and his wife Amalie.

  “Good evening, Rex Charyn,” offered Vaelln.

  “The same to you, Marshal, Lady. I’d like you to meet my aunt, Lady Delcoeur, who has been kind enough to take over my mother’s obligations in her absence…”

  After those introductions, the other three arrived, and Charyn met and introduced to Elacia Commander Chaalt, who was Vaelln’s chief of staff, and Subcommander Luerryn and his wife Varcela, who was trying very hard not to seem wide-eyed. Then Charyn turned to Varcela and said almost in a murmur, as he offered a mischievous smile, “It’s only a very large chateau that often keeps me imprisoned here.”

  For a moment, Varcela, who had to be at least ten years younger than the grizzled Luerryn, looked almost scandalized, then smiled in return. “I never thought of it that way.”

  Luerryn turned. “Your Grace?”

  “I was only telling your wife that the Chateau was often a very large prison for a very new Rex.”

  The subcommander paused, then nodded. “I can see that, sir.”

  “I might add,” Charyn said, looking back to Varcela, “that your husband was the one who gave me my first tour of High Command headquarters as well as provided a great deal of basic information that proved very useful in the weeks after the assassination. There was a great deal I didn’t know.” Charyn laughed softly. “There’s still a great deal I don’t know, but I’ve made some inroads on that ignorance. Now … you have your choice of ale or lager, red or white wine. The white wine is a Tacqueville and my personal favorite, but the red is good, and it’s one my brother prefers. It comes from near Tuuryl.” He eased the two toward the nearer sideboard. “Where, might I ask, did you two meet?”

  “At a dinner at Commander Chaalt’s quarters some five years ago,” replied Varcela with an amused smile.

  “Varcela is a cousin of the commander. She really wasn’t at the dinner, but she was reading to their daughter, and I liked the sound of her voice.”

  “He was curious.”

  “Snooping,” admitted Luerryn. “I’m not sure the commander has ever forgiven me, totally.”

  “You obviously knew what you wanted,” observed Charyn.

  “He always has.”

  “Sometimes that’s good, like with Varcela. Other times…” Luerryn shook his head.

  Charyn waited until Varcela took a goblet of the red, as did Luerryn, before asking, conversationally, “When you briefed me last Finitas, what would you have liked to tell me, but didn’t?”

  The subcommander’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he smiled. “That I wished your father had taken even half
the time you did learning about the army.”

  Charyn winced. He didn’t even try to hide it. “I doubt I’ve spent the time I should, but there’s been so much to learn in the last six months. As a military officer, what do you worry about the most? That is, threats that might face Solidar?”

  “The Jariolans first, but you and the Marshal seem to have that in hand, as much in hand as possible, that is.”

  “And?”

  “There’s no other military threat that I can see, sir.”

  “What about the High Holders?”

  Luerryn shook his head. “Between you, the Collegium Maitre, and the Marshal, they’re not that great a threat.”

  “The factors are growing more powerful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “… and the guilds and the crafters are getting poorer,” murmured Varcela.

  Luerryn stiffened, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve thought that, myself,” said Charyn, “but I’m rather isolated.” He nodded to her. “Thank you.” Then he looked to Luerryn. “Do you worry about that?”

  “We’re getting more who want to be troopers these days. We can pick and choose the best. It hasn’t always been like that.”

  “Some of that is likely because of poor harvests,” replied Charyn, “but I have the feeling that it’s not the only reason.” More than just a feeling, based on what Argentyl had said. He managed a smile. “If you will excuse me…” He eased away and moved toward Vaelln, who was conversing with Elacia.

  “… can remember when there were thousands and thousands of troopers posted at High Command,” Elacia was saying.

  “That wasn’t where they were needed,” replied Vaelln. “Even then we should have had more naval marines and more warships. One of the last things Marshal Wilkorn said to me was that he’d been too worried about the mistakes he’d made in the last battles and not enough about the wars to come. Foreseeing the future is so much harder than repeating the past and hoping it won’t change.”

  “Except,” interjected Charyn, “sometimes the past does repeat itself, and sometimes it doesn’t, and I’m finding it hard to discern which is when.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Vaelln laughed ruefully.

  As he did Elacia slipped away, moving toward Luerryn and his wife.

  Charyn accepted a goblet of the Tacqueville white presented by one of the servers, took a sip, and said, conversationally, “Along those lines, I was talking to Chorister Refaal the other day, and he mentioned a group that calls itself the True Believers. They’ve caused a certain amount of trouble at anomens in various places in Solidar. Have you run across them … or any mention of them?”

  Vaelln frowned, tilting his head slightly, then nodded. “There was an incident in Tilbora about a year ago at the governor’s chateau, the old palace of the Khanarate, you know. Someone broke into the anomen and took all the chorister’s vestments and strung them up along the walls. They painted some words on the stones about how the offerings to the Nameless were going for vestments grander than what Rex Regis wore, and that the chorister was a Namer, and that it was time to return to the true beliefs.” Vaelln smiled wryly. “The chorister wanted your father to repay him for the vestments. Your father told the governor to pay the chorister one gold and not a copper more.”

  Charyn nodded. That definitely sounded like his father. “Did the governor discover any more about it?”

  “All he could find out was a rumor that it was the work of the True Believers, some sort of throwback cult misconstruing the words of Rholan. He didn’t seem to think it was all that serious. None of the army or navy commanders supporting the regional governors have reported anything else like that.”

  “There haven’t been any reports from any of the port cities, either,” added Maurek.

  “It seems a bit strange. Refaal also reported that a chorister in Ruile had been chased from his anomen, and that High Holder Lenglan had been forced to use his personal guards to drive True Believers from an anomen in Semlem.”

  “There have always been prophets and charlatans claiming to be the true voice of the Nameless,” suggested Amalie.

  Maurek looked askance at his wife.

  “Grandfather Yussyl was a chorister in Cheva. He always said that there was a lot about Rholan that wasn’t in the sayings because people would misinterpret them.”

  “Such as?”

  “He’d never say … not exactly. He said people misquoted Rholan to be nasty to Pharsis. The only saying I recall that he said wasn’t in the books was that Rholan said that faith was just the beginning. That’s what Grandfather said. I asked him what he meant, and he just smiled.”

  “You never mentioned that,” said Maurek.

  “You never asked.”

  “How do you like the wine?” asked Charyn, to whoever might answer.

  “It’s excellent,” offered Vaelln.

  Maurek nodded, as did Chaalt.

  Fearing he might have been too direct, Charyn vowed to be more charming and less the interrogator for the rest of the evening. He also couldn’t help but think about the white belt.

  7

  On Solayi, Charyn slept late, spent some time in the covered courtyard practicing with his pistol, especially working on shooting quickly and accurately with either hand. Then he went riding in the hunting park, read more of Solidaran history, and spent three glasses, in one-glass increments, working on learning “Pavane in a Minor Key.” In addition to that, he studied the shipbuilding plans for the new class of frigates that were to be built in the Solis shipyard, in addition to the first-rate ships of the line. It had taken a certain amount of persuasion to obtain those plans, especially since Charyn wasn’t about to offer the entire explanation for why he wanted them.

  That evening, at a quint past fifth glass, he got into the unmarked coach and rode to Imagisle, joining Aloryana and the Maitre and his family at the Maitre’s dwelling. From there they walked to the Collegium anomen, a building, Charyn recalled from his tour nearly a half year earlier, that predated the Collegium, although it had been rebuilt and refurbished by the first imager of the Collegium.

  Charyn stood at one side of the anomen, with Aloryana and the others, and listened to the service, not all that different from the ones conducted by Saerlet. He did concentrate on a part of the homily, and especially the way in which Chorister Iskhar presented it.

  “… the Nameless does not require blind faith and mindless obedience. What the Nameless requires is not only your faith, but your thought. Do not believe blindly all that you hear and read. See if it makes sense, or if you can prove it or disprove it in another fashion. The ancients believed that Erion was a god, not just a moon, and that the son of Erion would come to the aid of those who were in need. The records of the first Maitre even have a passage that notes that the blade of Erion saved the first Maitre. Do moons forge blades? No … a literal reading of that passage makes little sense, but there was very likely a sword called the blade of Erion, and somehow it helped that Maitre…”

  The Nameless does not require blind faith and mindless obedience … That phrase kept repeating itself in Charyn’s thoughts throughout the remainder of the homily and service. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Chorister Saerlet offering those words.

  After the service, he walked back to the Maitre’s dwelling and once more had refreshments and enjoyed being with Aloryana and the Maitre’s family, even including Malyna, who had joined them on the walk back from the anomen.

  Lundi came early, but Charyn didn’t mind. While he expected Bhayrn would have returned late on Solayi, Bhayrn didn’t actually arrive at the Chateau D’Rex until midafternoon on Lundi, but that was scarcely surprising. Nor was the fact that he immediately went to bed, and Charyn didn’t see him until Bhayrn appeared in the breakfast room on Mardi morning just as Charyn was finishing his second mug of tea.

  “How was your time at Talyon?”

  “It’s too early for shooting, or any decent hunting, except boar hunting,
but High Holder Laastyn sent word that we were to leave the boars alone because too many had been killed last year.”

  “Were any of Laamyst’s sisters around? Or cousins? You said one of them—”

  “No. They decided not to come. One of the serving girls was nice-looking, but Laamyst warned me that she was a favorite of his father’s.”

  That might have been for the best. “I hope that didn’t spoil things too much.”

  “It was better than staying here.” Bhayrn sat down across the table from Charyn, then looked to the server. “A lager, Therosa, and anything that has ham and eggs in it.”

  “Yes, Lord Bhayrn.”

  Bhayrn turned to Charyn again. “You never told me about the Council meeting.”

  Charyn wasn’t about to tell Bhayrn that might have been because his brother was never around, not if he could help it. “They complained some that we aren’t building ships fast enough … The Jariolans apparently realized that they’re losing. They’ve threatened to blockade the Abierto Isles unless the Isles refuse their ports to our ships. We’ll have to break the blockade, of course, and some of the councilors don’t like that, either, because it will take warships away from patrolling the shipping lanes to Otelyrn, as if they wouldn’t suffer more from a blockade. And Basalyt complained about the tariff reassessment.”

  “Tariff reassessment? You’re increasing tariffs? You promised not to do that.”

  “I’m not increasing them. The tariff rolls haven’t been updated in at least ten years. That means some High Holders aren’t paying enough and some are paying too much. When Alucar finds out that parts of some holdings aren’t being tariffed, he sends a notice of inquiry…” Charyn went on to explain.

  “That still sounds like a tariff increase,” said Bhayrn. “The High Holders who have to pay more will think it is.”