Treachery's Tools (23 page)

And Lorien thinks he has trials now.
Alastar shook his head. “You're saying that I need to keep my mouth shut about how bad this could be until things get bad enough that others can see it as well.”

“It might not hurt.”

Alastar laughed softly but ruefully. “You're doubtless right about that. I'll just tell the senior imagers that things could get worse, but we'll have to wait and see.”

Alyna rose. “We both need some sleep.” She paused. “Sleep, dearest.”

Alastar wasn't about to argue.

 

12

On Vendrei morning, Alastar, Alyna, and Lystara said their farewells to Zaerlyn and then retreated from the front porch of the Maitre's house to the study to allow Malyna space and time to say whatever she wished—or not—to her father.

“Did Malyna say anything to you about her father leaving?” Alastar asked Lystara.

“She said she would miss him, but there was no place for her besides here. She's glad we're here.”

Alastar wondered if that would last, but merely nodded.

“No matter what she says,” Alyna added, “she'll be sad for a time. Please be kind to her.”

“I
know
that, Mother. She cried some last night. She won't talk about it.”

Like someone else you know.
Alastar did not voice the thought, but did offer his wife a sad smile.

In return, he got a barely noticeable headshake.

Before long, Zaerlyn moved toward his mount, and the holding guards who waited, and Alastar, Alyna, and Lystara joined Malyna on the porch, each offering a final good-bye before watching the High Holder ride down the avenue toward the East Bridge.

Then Lystara and Malyna began the walk toward the administration building, followed shortly by Alastar and Alyna. Once they reached it and Alastar saw Alyna on her way, he checked with Dareyn and Maercyl, but there were no messages and, for the moment, no new problems needing his immediate attention, and he had time to check the new entries on his copy of the master ledger before he left the Collegium on his unannounced visit to Lorien.

He'd barely opened the ledger when Maercyl appeared.

“Maitre Bettaur…”

“… wishes to see me,” finished Alastar. “I only have half a quint or so, but he's welcome to it.” He stood because he wanted to keep the meeting short.

In moments, Bettaur appeared, nodded respectfully. “Sir…”

“You're inquiring about your request, I take it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Normally, I would have decided, but as you doubtless know, Maitre Zhelan died, and I have to consider the matter of his successor. Until I make that decision, I don't think it would be prudent to decide on your request.”

“Yes, sir. I understand that. If … if you decide to send someone from here to be maitre there, we would accompany that person … that is, if you agree that we could go to Westisle.”

Alastar smiled. “I appreciate your willingness to be accommodating, and I promise, once I decide on the new Westisle Maitre, I'll also have an answer for you.”

“Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.”

Alastar moved slightly toward the door.

Bettaur caught the gesture and inclined his head again. “I won't bother you again about this, sir. I do appreciate your considering it.”

Once Bettaur had departed and closed the door, Alastar took a slow deep breath.

At two quints after seventh glass, accompanied by Harl and Noergyn, Alastar rode away from the administration building. His departure was later than he would have preferred, but timed to arrive at the Chateau D'Rex near eighth glass, since Lorien tended to be in a foul mood earlier in the day. At the same time, arriving in the afternoon on Vendrei risked not finding Lorien because he was out riding—and trying to arrange a meeting when Lorien didn't want to see Alastar meant that days might pass, and in the end, Alastar would end up riding to the chateau without an appointment in any event in order to corner the rex.

Upon reaching the chateau, Alastar dismounted, handed the gelding's reins to Harl, absently brushing away a mosquito, and started up the immaculate white stone steps to the main entry.

As he reached the top, an older chateau guard—Guard Captain Churwyl—hurried toward Alastar. “Maitre … how might we assist you?”

Not a good sign, not at all.
“I'm here to see Rex Lorien.”

“He's not at the chateau, Maitre,” replied the guard captain.

“Do you know where he is?”

“He rode out into the hunting park a short time ago. Where, none of us could say.”

“How short a time ago?” asked Alastar mildly.

Churwyl did not reply, and his eyes did not quite meet Alastar's.

“Were, perhaps, your men ordered to report to the rex immediately if I were to appear?” Alastar waited.

After a long silence, the captain replied. “There have been orders to that effect for several days.”

Not a good sign, not at all.
After a long moment, Alastar said, “Then I will see the Lady Chelia. Please do not tell me that she is not in the chateau.”

Churwyl swallowed, then moistened his lips. “The rex said…”

“I do not care what the rex said. I will see her. Now. You can escort me, or I can find my own way. Those are your choices, Captain, and you will have fewer than that if you attempt to divert or detain me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Maitre.” The captain's resigned tone expressed the sense his only choice was which death faced him. “This way. I believe she is in her private salon.”

The salon was the same room in which Alastar had once verbally fenced with Lady Asarya, and one he had not visited since, although the upholstery for the loveseats and armchairs had been changed from silver and green to soft blue accented with cream, giving the chamber a far warmer feel.

“Maitre Alastar … I thought I might be seeing you.” Chelia rose from the delicate secretary set against one wall, closing the slanted desktop with a graceful gesture. She was an attractive woman, tall and well proportioned, if fully figured even after three children and years of living with Lorien, which had to have been a strain. Her face was slightly square-chinned with a barely noticeable dimple, a straight nose, a fair but not pale complexion, blond hair, and brilliant blue eyes. Her smile was warm and welcoming, as her father's reputedly had been, and her eyes went to the guard captain. “Thank you, Captain Churwyl.”

As Churwyl departed, leaving the salon door ajar, Chelia gestured to the armchairs, then made her way to one and seated herself, waiting for Alastar to sit before saying, “You must have something important to say, and something Lorien would prefer not to hear. You hope, I presume, that I might be able to convey it to him.”

“I have no doubt that you are able to convey whatever you wish, Lady. The only question is whether he will hear the words you speak and wish to understand what they mean.”

Chelia offered a nod of acknowledgment, not necessarily one of agreement. “Go on.”

“Yesterday, a High Holder shot and killed the head of the Factors' Council of L'Excelsis. Two nights before, the High Holder's son lost two hundred golds to the factor's nephew. The nephew was forced into a closed coach later that night and is likely dead. The nephew was greatly loved by the factor, and the young man's father had been ruined years earlier by the High Holder. The High Holder claims he was justified in shooting the factor because the factor entered his dwelling uninvited and likely with force, although he carried no weapons. This is the third time in the last few weeks that a young merchanter or factor has vanished. At the same time, a number of High Holders have not only refused to pay debts owed to factors and to both the Banque D'Excelsis and the Banque D'Aluse, but also have lodged petitions with your husband claiming that they are exempt from the jurisdiction of regional justicers and, in fact, even the High Justicer, unless the dispute or offense involves another High Holder.”

“In practice, that has largely been the case,” Chelia observed.

“But not in law, as set forth in the Codex Legis. Moreover, if the factors cannot collect debts from High Holders, many either cannot or will not pay their tariffs this fall. Also, it is likely that the most powerful factors will refuse grain and other provisions to High Holders … and take other steps.”

“So you believe that Lorien should deny all the High Holder petitions.” Chelia's words were not a question.

“I would suggest that he return them, without specifically denying them, by stating that, under the Codex Legis, High Holders are subject to regional and high justice, and that such will remain the law unless the Codex is changed.”

“Will that satisfy the factors?”

“They would obviously prefer a stronger statement, but a stronger statement is not necessary.”

“You know he seldom discusses such matters with me.”

“I know that he listens to you if that is what you wish.”

“He has … occasionally.”

“Has your brother expressed any views on such matters?”

Chelia's first response was a soft laugh. “My brother, the present High Holder Ryel, has not spoken to me since the day after our wedding.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Do not be. It was my desire, not his. Lorien has never invited him to the chateau, again, at my request. I was more than glad to leave Rivages.”

For a moment, Alastar was at a loss for words.

“That is the first time I have seen you speechless, Maitre. You wonder why I tell you this? It is simple. I would not wish you, particularly you, to associate me with any of the rest of my blood relations, and especially in times such as these.”

“I appreciate that clarity, Lady, but I must say that I never made any such assumption, which is why I sought you out when your husband vanished at my approach.”

“He vanished at my suggestion.”

Alastar frowned, if but for a moment, then nodded. “I see. In this, you are wiser than I have been.”

“No. As the saying goes, we must play the plaques we are dealt. You must seek out the rex. He must not—”

Alastar held up his hand. “Say no more. That way…”

“Thank you.” Chelia smiled. “Are there any other small bits of information that
I
should know?”

“A student imager vanished in the mist the other day when the river was running high, and two others were earlier followed on their return to Imagisle. I also understand that the gaming houses in L'Excelsis have decided to hire guards to keep order outside in the environs of their premises … having something to do with young men of High Holder background no longer being able to force out other young men by making exorbitant bets…”

Chelia nodded.

“… and someone, I can't recall who, mentioned that he had overheard words about reclaiming sold lands under the rights High Holders had before the Codex … and apparently, a number of people must have decided to begin hunting with rifles, since one factor has increased his production of heavy rifles…”

“Ah … Maitre … I so envy you that you get to hear such interesting things, while I am so less worldly than you.”

That was something Alastar strongly doubted, not when she had grown up in the Ryel High Holding.

“How is your wife … and your daughter?”

“They are both well. Lystara takes after both of us, and that is enough to keep us both occupied. What of your children?”

“Charyn is no longer a child. He is riding with his father. Bhayrn will be before that long. Aloryana…” She laughed ruefully. “I may be better equipped to deal with sons … having had mostly brothers.”

“What about Khanara?”

Chelia raised her eyebrows. “She might as well have been a brother. She was better in the saddle than any of them.”

“Did she ever marry? I don't recall…”

“No. She remained with my brother.”

Alastar got that message. “All that Lorien says about Aloryana suggests that she is special.”

“For him, she is. What about Lystara? Isn't she special to you?”

“I suppose all daughters are to their fathers, but I'm not her best friend. I'm her father. Often, I suspect, she wishes I were not.”

Chelia smiled again. “It's good to talk to you. It doesn't happen often. Is there anything else…?”

“Other than the fact that the High Holders hate the factors and the other way around? With all the assorted details? And that all our children are presently healthy? I think not.”

“Then I should not keep you, Maitre. When Lorien makes up his mind on those matters, I will remind him to send you a message so that you won't have to ride all the way from the Collegium.”

A polite way for her to suggest to him that you'll keep showing up until and unless he does something.
“Thank you. I do appreciate that.” Taking the hint, Alastar rose and inclined his head.

Chelia also stood, again smiling. “If I do not see her until the Year-Turn Ball, please extend my warmest regards to your lovely and incredibly capable wife.”

“That I can do.”

Alastar inclined his head a last time and made his exit from the salon. Once he was a good ten yards from the door, heading toward the main entrance, Churwyl reappeared and escorted him back to where Harl and Noergyn waited at the foot of the entry steps.

The three immediately turned eastward and rode down the gentle grade of the paved lane to the ring road and onto the Avenue D'Rex Ryen. They passed the Anomen D'Rex just as the bells of ninth glass rang out.

“That didn't take long, sir,” offered Noergyn.

“Sometimes, it does. Sometimes, it doesn't.” Alastar wasn't about to mention either that Lorien had not been there or that he had met with Chelia … for all too many reasons.

“Ah … sir,” offered Harl, riding on Alastar's left, “has there been any word about young Frydrek?”