Treachery's Tools (10 page)

“Information … and after that, a cloak.” Alastar settled into the single chair across the table from Thelia, a willowy Maitre D'Aspect with natural silver-blond hair and gray eyes, whose appearance and name had always left him slightly unsettled, no matter how much he reminded himself that she was absolutely no relation to Thealia. “The information first. I understand that you talk fairly often with your mother.”

“Often. Less than many daughters do.”

“Partly because your mother is a most successful factoria, I would gather.”

“Partly.” An amused smile crossed her thin lips.

“She has clients among both the wealthy factors and among a number of High Holders, I've heard. She is likely one of the few factors privy to overhearing observations and comments in a less rigid situation. I've received information that matters between a number of the more wealthy factors and High Holders are becoming increasingly strained. I wondered if she had mentioned anything along those lines to you.”

“Maitre … such observations are possibly the last thing she would share with me. By mutual consent, we talk little beyond pleasantries, what is in fashion, and how the Collegium's factorage might provide goods to our mutual benefit.”

“She should be proud of you,” observed Alastar bluntly. “You're an imager maitre and have a position of responsibility.”

“She is … now. But beyond abilities with numbers and the understanding of what lies behind trade, and the obvious tie of blood, we have little in common.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Ruel will inherit everything, obviously, since he is her only other child.”

From Thelia's tone, Alastar suspected Thelia had doubts about her brother. “Then perhaps I should meet with her.”

“I have no doubts that she'd be absolutely charming, Maitre. It would be best, I think, if you or Dareyn contacted her directly.”

“I see.” And Alastar did, even as he felt sorry for Thelia. “Would you rather have others…?”

“Linzya is taking over more of that. She does it well.”

“I did not mean…”

Thelia smiled, an unstrained expression. “I understand, Maitre. Mother and I are best with figures and ledgers between us and at being friends with a slight distance. I respect her great ability. She has come to respect my ability as an imager. Should I ever wed and have children, she will be a doting grandparent.”

Alastar had wondered more than once why Thelia had not found someone. She was attractive and intelligent.
But quietly strong-willed.
“I'll take your advice. Now … about the cloak. I need one that would signify tasteful wealth and cover my imager grays.”

“Meaning that you wish to be seen, noticed slightly, but not attract much attention.”

“And not be completely out of place in an establishment less than perfectly suitable, perhaps as a father investigating the whereabouts of a son whose behavior he has doubts about.”

“When do you need it?”

“Preferably before this evening.”

Thelia nodded. “We can find or create something like that. Would fourth glass be sufficient?”

“More than sufficient. Thank you.” Alastar rose.

Next, after stopping by his study and picking up the envelope with High Holder Meinyt's seal, he walked to the north end of the building where Obsolym had a study—and a private staircase and entry to the Collegium archives, some of whose records had been reconstructed, as possible, from Obsolym's recollections and research based on them.

The oldest Maitre looked up from the wide table desk and the stack of papers beside him. “Maitre … to what obscure question do you require an answer? Assuming I even know about it?”

Alastar extended the seal. “This is High Holder Meinyt's seal. Can you tell me anything about it?”

Obsolym studied the seal for a time before setting it on the table desk. “Meinyt … Meinyt.” After a long pause, he said, “I can't be certain, but, as I recall, that High Holding was granted to the first regional governor of the lands that were Khel. “Other than that…” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I'm meeting with him later today, and I've never seen a seal like that. I wondered if there was a story behind it.”

Obsolym laughed. “There must be, but it's not one that I've heard. If you find out, I'd like to know.”

“You'll be the second one to know … if I find out.”

“So long as it's your lady, that's fine with me.”

Alastar was smiling as he made his way back to his study, but the smile vanished before he stopped at Dareyn's desk. “I'll need a rough map of the areas of L'Excelsis around Alamara's—that's the gaming house, not the ‘artisans' factorage—and Tydaael's.”

“Sir…?”

“Maitre Cyran brought some problems the civic patrol is having there. The maps will be helpful. And … unhappily, I need them by around fourth glass. “I'll also need an escort, one of the thirds with strong shields, like Beltran or Noergyn, for an errand starting around two quints past fifth glass.”

“Yes, sir.” Dareyn's tone was not quite glum. “I'll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Alastar returned to his study where he wrote out a note requesting a few quints with Factoria Kathila and then had Dareyn dispatch that. Seemingly before he knew it, he was riding north on the West River Road, accompanied by Beltran and Coermyd, both thirds who often served as his escorts.

High Holder Meinyt's dwelling in L'Excelsis was positively modest for a High Holder, roughly the size of the Maitre's house on Imagisle, a two-story gray stone structure overlooking the unnamed stream that fed into the River Aluse and located half a mille north and west of the Nord Bridge. The low iron gates were open, and the stone-paved lane led directly to a small covered portico on the east side of the main level.

A footman in green livery trimmed in gray appeared at the top of the portico steps just before Alastar reined up. “Welcome, Maitre.”

The cheer in the footman's greeting was a rarity. In fact, offhand, Alastar couldn't remember the last time a High Holder's functionary had welcomed him so warmly. “Thank you.” He dismounted and handed the gelding's reins to Coermyd.

“There'd be water for your men and mounts in back, sir.”

“They'll appreciate it. So do I.” Alastar gestured.

“Thank you,” offered Beltran before the two eased the mounts forward and onto the lane that curved around the dwelling.

Alastar followed the footman through the door and into a comparatively narrow hallway floored in polished gray and white marble.

The footman stopped at the second doorway, where the door was open, and gestured. “High Holder Meinyt.”

Alastar stepped into the very modest study, an oak-paneled room no more than six yards by four. Meinyt stood at one edge of a round table, a trim figure wearing gray trousers that were so dark they were almost black and a deep green jacket. He had graying brown hair and offered a pleasant smile. “Welcome, Maitre Alastar.”

“I do appreciate your seeing me so quickly.” Alastar had officially met the High Holder less than a handful of times, always at the annual year-turn ball held by the rex, and their conversations had been pleasant enough but short.

“I've heard that it's wise to meet with you, and always beneficial in one fashion or another.” Meinyt motioned to the table. “Dark lager, I recall.”

“You have a good memory.”

“I have to work at it.” Meinyt smiled wryly, then glanced toward the door, through which a serving woman walked with a tray on which were two lagers. “Talking can be a thirsty business.” Once the server had left and closed the door, he lifted his beaker. “To useful conversation.”

Alastar lifted his beaker as well.

They both drank.

“Good solid lager,” said Alastar.

“It's an honest brew. You requested the meeting. What did you have in mind?”

“Finding out what I can from you about why Cransyr is trying to anger me and pick a fight with the wealthier factors.”

“Fairly put, directly said.” Meinyt nodded, took another swallow of lager, then set the beaker on the plain wooden square coaster that sat on the polished oak of the table. “The short answer is that I don't know. Cransyr claims that the factors are out to destroy the High Holders and that Rex Lorien is behind it all. That doesn't make sense. Lorien isn't the brightest flame in the fire, but he's not a clinker, either. Making you angry sounds stupid, and Cransyr's anything but that.”

Alastar nodded and waited.

“I do know that Cransyr's not fond of imagers. I don't know why. Nualt claimed Cransyr's family has hated them for generations, but he didn't know why, either. Cransyr also doesn't much care for factors. Claims that they can do anything to make golds, and no one cares, and that there are lots of small factors who pay no tariffs at all.”

“He's probably right that there are some,” ventured Alastar. “Do you think there are that many?”

“More than the rex is tariffing. I could name a score in Alkyra. Even know a few here. I haven't gone out of my way to discover them.”

“Why aren't the Factors' Councils collecting tariffs from them? What do they gain by letting them avoid tariffs?”

“Who elects the members of the Factors' Councils?” asked Meinyt.

Frig!
That made a sad kind of sense, reflected Alastar.

“Obvious when you think of it that way, isn't it?”

“So Hulet here and other council members in the Factors' Councils in other cities feel the same way. If they add more members, the newer members have different concerns…”

“… and the older and more established factors get replaced. The newer factors think that tariffs ought to be paid just on what they sell, and not partly on property and partly on sales.”

Alastar had to think about that for a moment. “That's the same formula for both factors and High Holders, except the valuation on property is fixed for High Holders.”

“It's fixed for factors, too,” said Meinyt. “It's fixed at the value it cost when purchased, and that value includes large machines.”

And the factors probably buy or make more of those … meaning the factors pay comparatively more on their property.
“Even so, there's not that much difference in the way tariffs are calculated between those for some of the large and established old factors and High Holders.”
Except over time, the High Holders do pay less, just as Hulet said, just not quite in the way he suggested.
“But for the more recently established and rapidly growing factorages…”

“There's more to it than that,” Meinyt said, “but you get the idea.”

“What happens when a wealthy factor becomes a High Holder?”

“That doesn't happen often. There's a definition in the Codex Legis … and if someone meets the definition, they still have to be approved by the High Council.”

Alastar frowned. “Under the Codex Legis, the rex is the one who creates High Holders.”

“He can create them and tariff them, but the High Council determines who can do more than that.”

“You mean, be invited to balls and parties and help select members of the High Council? And trade directly with, bartering and the like?”

Meinyt nodded.

“I see. And since much of the value of being a High Holder is that association…”
It's not worth it for a factor to become a High Holder without it.
“When was the last time that happened?”

“Sometime before High Holder Guerdyn was head of the High Council.”

That
also explained another aspect of the resentment expressed by the larger established factors, not that any would actually admit to it, Alastar suspected. “What would you advise Rex Lorien to do?”

“I'm not about to advise anyone, Maitre, even you. Giving advice saddles one with all the blame and none of the credit.”

“Then what aspects of the problem have not come to light that might make any decisions by the rex either less resented or at least more accepted.”

“The word ‘decision' suggests action.”

Alastar shook his head. “To do nothing is also a decision, and sometimes that is the most difficult decision to defend, almost as difficult to justify as raising tariffs, or changing the tariff structure.”

Meinyt laughed. “You've just covered all possibilities, without suggesting which course you might recommend.”

“I may not be in a position to refrain from advising Rex Lorien. So if there is anything I have overlooked…”

“There's an implication behind your words.”

“Since you're known to prefer plain-speaking, I'll say it directly, then. Because I will have to offer a recommendation based on what I've learned, I'll remember, and not fondly, anything that makes it more difficult for me to ascertain the facts about tariffs, and the assets and revenues on which they are based.”

“That could be taken as a threat, Maitre.”

“I don't make threats. I do my best to state matters factually. I said exactly how I would feel.”

“I'm curious. Have you ever not removed someone who displeased you?”

“Quite a few times. High Holder Regial displeased me enormously. High Holder Haebyn shot and tried to kill me. Both are still alive, although I understand Haebyn occasionally limps. I found High Holder Nacryon to be callow, extraordinarily self-obsessed, and without almost a single redeeming quality. I've done nothing adverse to him. There are several others of position about whom I have similar feelings.”

“And you have done nothing?” A smile played across Meinyt's lips.

“They did not threaten Solidar or the Collegium.”

The High Holder picked up the beaker and took a small swallow. “You would judge what is best for Solidar?”