Madness in Solidar (51 page)

Lorien frowned. “He's only supposed to have six in all.”

“The late Marshal Demykalon told me most firmly there were eight.” Alastar shrugged. “Even if there are only six, that amounts to thirty battalions, and I sincerely doubt Solidar needs more than four regiments. It needs warships and vessels to protect its trading vessels against raiders and pirates far more than those two—or four—unnecessary regiments.”

“Why exactly do your interests support mine? I don't think you really answered that.”

“We can support you at far less expense than can your army. We also cannot afford to rule, unlike whoever might be marshal. Neither the High Holders nor the factors would allow that. Nor would the people. But none of them really cares that much who is rex, so long as it is not an imager and so long as their tariffs are not excessive and their liberties not too constrained.”

“You haven't said much about loyalty.”

“Our loyalty is to the rex of Solidar. Loyalty beyond that, to an individual ruler, must be earned.”

“I can see you don't believe in flattery, Maitre.”

“Wouldn't you trust me less if I attempted it?”

Lorien actually smiled, if but for a moment. “What my father did was scarcely to your liking, but was he not correct about the problems of financing Solidar?”

“He was correct that something needed to be done. He was also correct about the fact that the High Holders did not wish him to rule effectively. What he was not correct about was how to proceed to gain the revenues he needed and how best to strengthen Solidar.”

“Gracious of you to admit he was right about something.”

“Not gracious. Accurate,” replied Alastar quietly. “What your father did, Lorien, was not working. You need to decide on what will work and follow that course.”

The rex brushed back his hair again and said. “Before we even talk about what you think I should do, do me the courtesy of telling me what my father did that did not or would not work. With specifics, if you would.”

“Your father maintained too large an army, especially with too many regiments close to L'Excelsis. Having a peacetime army with close to eight thousand men less than three milles from the Chateau D'Rex is a veiled threat. Those regiments are too far from anywhere that a foreign enemy might attack. Paying all those officers and men required far too many golds and left him without enough for more important tasks, such as rebuilding roads, improving port facilities, building warships designed to deal with the pirates of the Southern Gulf, or even foreign warships that might threaten Solidaran trading vessels. Then there is the matter of building more ships of the right construction to deal with the various threats on the sea and in the shallower waters off the coasts of Solidar.”

“You did mention that already. What else?”

“Your sire was openly contemptuous of the High Holders and the larger factors, some of whom may be wealthier than the smaller High Holders, and made no effort at all to work out differences—”

“The High Holders made no effort and were contemptuous of him, and he was rex.”

“It would have been wiser to make the efforts first, perhaps even to reduce the size of the army and to engage in some small road building and port improvements while pointing out that he could not do more without higher tariffs. The factors would understand some of that. After doing that, if using some form of force became necessary, the factors and the people would be more likely to excuse that use of force. At present, you won't face that problem.”

“A mixed blessing, that, as much from the Namer as the Nameless.”

“Your father also ignored my suggestion that the civic patrols in all the larger cities should be at least partly paid by the rex and that their chief—or at least those chiefs in major cities—report to a minister of justice, as should all justicers, including the High Justicers.”

“Why might that be advisable? Would not many feel my thumb was on the scales of justice?”

“They might, but it would allow you to replace those whose interest is in lining their wallets, and that is of greater concern to the factors … and matters little one way or the other to most High Holders, since they retain the right to do justice on their own lands.”

“Since you have managed to put the High Holders in their place, it seems to me that dealing with the army…” Lorien looked almost guilelessly at Alastar. “What would you suggest? In specifics, please.”

“Over time, the eight army regiments should be reduced to four, and no more than two battalions should be posted at headquarters. The others should be posted at or near major ports. As part of the reduction in force, one or even two of the regiments here should be dispatched to Lucayl with the mission to patrol the shore and to root out all pirate enclaves there. The regiment remaining here should be allowed to shrink to two or three battalions by not replacing troopers or officers as their terms of service end or as officers reach the age for stipends. Some of those leaving will need to be replaced, but new replacements should be kept to a minimum. Also move one of the regiments from Estisle to Solis as well. If you're paying them, they should be doing something. As for ships, you'll need to meet with the sea marshal to work that out, because he'll likely want large and expensive ships of the line and little more. You'll need some of those, but the immediate need is for smaller vessels of shallow draft—”

“How as an imager are you qualified to make that judgment?”

“I grew up almost on the docks of Westisle. My father worked for a factor, and all imagers trained at Westisle, as I was, learn about merchanters and trade.”

Lorien's lips quirked. “I do believe that you should be at any meeting with the sea marshal, Maitre … and at many other meetings for a time, if you understand what I mean.”

“As a veiled suggestion that various people should be … reasonable, you mean.”

“Not so veiled, I think. Solidar does not need any more … unrest.” Lorien paused. “You had earlier mentioned an imager who had assisted, if that is the proper word, Marshal Demykalon in the attack on Imagisle. Have you had any fortune in locating him?”

“No, and it's likely we won't, not unless someone provides information to us. Outside of wearing imager grays, if he still is, he looks much the same as anyone else, just like a merchanter or a small factor. He is well-spoken and moderately good-looking … actually very good-looking.” Alastar wasn't about to mention concealment shields.

“What might he look like?”

“He's got a languid and charming manner. Brown hair with a natural wave to it, a little longer than is fashionable, except for younger High Holders. He's about your height. His eyes … sometimes they're hazel and sometimes brown.”

Lorien nodded. “I see your point. Many men would fit that description.”

Alastar wondered whether Lorien knew that Desyrk had been in the chateau … or that someone in the chateau had mentioned his name. “You've never heard his name come up?”

“Not until you mentioned it. Why do you ask?”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, his brother was a subcommander who used to accompany Marshal Ghalyn to brief your sire. He was later promoted to commander. There is always the possibility his name might have been mentioned.”

“Not around me.”

“If you hear anything…”

“I will certainly let you know, Maitre.” Lorien smiled politely. “I will be summoning Acting Marshal Petayn and Sea Marshal Wilkorn to a meeting on Lundi … and I'll let you know when to be here for that. Until tomorrow at fourth glass.” Lorien stood.

“Until then,” agreed Alastar as he rose.

Again, a guard accompanied him from the study back to the entry steps of the chateau.

As Alastar rode down the drive from the chateau's entry, he glanced to the east to take in the beginning of the uncompleted Avenue D'Rex.
You'll need to work out finishing that once you put the Collegium back together.
After a moment, he had a second thought.
A few more golds of compensation might make it easier … if you can persuade Lorien.

When Alastar returned to the Maitre's dwelling three quints later, he found Iskhar waiting for him in the hall foyer and motioned for the chorister to accompany him to the study. Alastar didn't bother to sit down before asking, “What can I do for you?”

“I hesitate to bother you, Maitre, but I need to complete the arrangements for the services for those who died … in the attack.”

That
was something that Alastar had overlooked.
Because you really don't want to deal with the deaths you caused?
“I appreciate that, Iskhar. What do you need from me?”

“I thought … I know you are not fond of speaking to large groups, but…”

Alastar understood all too well. How, as Maitre, could he not offer appreciation for the lives of those who had died for the Collegium?
Especially since you can't even acknowledge the true nature of their sacrifice.
“You must understand. I have not done much speaking, unlike the founder, who was apparently a chorister or the closest to that possible.”

“You have been reading Gauswn's journals?”

“They do help me get to sleep. They also provide a certain perspective.” Alastar smiled wryly. “If Chorister Gauswn was correct, Maitre Quaeryt was the greatest imager, perhaps the greatest figure in the history of Solidar, and today no one knows anything about him. Even here in the Collegium, most only know him as the founder.”

“Do you believe what he wrote?”

“Do you?” countered Alastar.

“It must be so. I cannot believe it is otherwise.” Iskhar smiled sadly. “I do not know if I would like to have known a man that powerful … I am more than happy to be a chorister. I would not wish to be in your boots, Maitre, or any Maitre's, for that matter.”

“Sometimes, I wonder what I'm doing in them, Iskhar.” After a moment, Alastar asked, “When will the services be? On Solayi afternoon?”

“I'd thought so. At the first glass of the afternoon.”

“Will you be holding services for all those who were killed?”

“It appears that way, Maitre. Shabrena was widowed years ago, and the other three cooks had no family. The gardener came from … one of the taudis as a boy. He was an orphan.” Iskhar cleared his throat. “When you have a moment, you might also want to reassure Mhorys's widow about the future.”

“The fact that so long as she doesn't remarry someone outside the Collegium she and her children can live here.”

“That's never been made an official rule, but…”

“It's come up so seldom that it's never been necessary. I'll talk to her this evening.” Alastar paused, realizing that none of the other imagers who were killed had been married, because all had been students. The other aspect of the deaths was that, as evidenced by the examples of the cooks and the gardener, so many of those who worked and lived on Imagisle had come out of circumstances far worse than had Alastar himself. “You and your predecessor…”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I was just thinking that many of those who work here were found and recommended by you and your predecessor.”

“That is true—but only if they were of worthy character. Some we tried to help were not, but they soon left of their own will.”

Because they realized it was too dangerous to be a thief or worse among so many imagers, no doubt.
“If you need anything else, let me know.”

The chorister nodded.

Alastar walked him to the door of the dwelling and stood on the porch until Iskhar was on the stone walk toward the anomen. Then he turned and walked back to the study. He knew little about Mhorys except that he had been one of the older Maitres D'Aspect, most likely close to Alastar's age. He'd been pleasant and hardworking. Alastar knew even less about Mhorys's wife, except that she was not an imager, and that the couple had two children, both daughters.

He rummaged through the papers in the cabinet behind the desk until he found the roster he'd asked for and made notes in when he'd first come to Imagisle. He remembered jotting down something about most of the maitres. He smiled in relief when he saw that he'd noted that Mhorys's wife was Carmina. He hadn't written down the daughters' names, however, just the letters “2-Ds.”

There's still time before the evening meal.
With that thought, he hurried from the study, pausing at the small table Dareyn was using. “I need to visit Mhorys's wife. I may not be back before you leave. If not, I'll see you in the morning. Oh … and one other thing. I never found out the names of the three cooks or assistants besides Shabrena who were killed. If you could find out?” Alastar was embarrassed that he didn't know and had to ask.

“Yes, sir.”

Mhorys's cottage was the one next to that of Claeynd. As he passed Claeynd's door, Alastar slowed his steps and studied the dwelling, but so far as he could tell, Claeynd or Alyna or other imagers had managed to repair the damage, the only visible sign being a smoothed area of dirt, rather than what had been a side yard garden before the cannon shell had struck. Alastar nodded and continued to the stone walk leading up to the door, draped in green and black. He knocked firmly, but not excessively, and waited.

The woman who opened the door was red-haired, with bright blue eyes, eyes that were bloodshot. Her face was pale enough that her few freckles stood out, although Alastar could see that she was attractive, or would have been had she obviously not been so distraught.

“Matriana Carmina,” offered Alastar, employing the seldom-used formal term for the non-imaging wife of an imager.

Carmina's eyes widened as she saw Alastar standing on the front step of the modest cottage. “Maitre…”