Treachery's Tools (11 page)

“That is one of the duties of the Maitre of the Collegium. The Collegium will not survive unless Solidar remains strong and united, with power spread between the rex, the High Holders, and the factors.”

“The Codex Legis says little about the factors.”

“Four hundred years ago, they did not have the power they do now or will have in the future. Neither the rex nor the High Council can afford to ignore that.”

“What is the basis for that claim, if I might ask?”

“Tariff payments. Some years back, I persuaded the rex to let me look at the older tariff records. The amount of tariffs paid by factors has been growing for years, as have the number of factors paying tariffs. If the claims that some factors are not paying tariffs are true, then the growth and wealth of factors is increasing even more. At the same time, those tariffs paid by High Holders are remaining about the same.”

“That would suggest that High Holder tariffs be reduced.”

“A High Holder pays less in tariffs than a factor of comparable worth.”

“A High Holder's assets are not so easily converted into golds.”

Alastar smiled pleasantly. “I believe High Holder Cransyr has made that point most forcefully.”

“You don't agree?”

“The point has some validity, but it's similar to claiming that a merchanter should pay lower import tariffs because he has a larger ship and thus fewer golds to spare. Carried to the extremes.…”

“You don't have to carry the point to extremes, Maitre. For all that you make interesting points, I fear that most High Holders will have difficulty accepting that factors must be considered as equals.”

“I didn't say that. I suggested that the power of all factors will grow relative to that of all High Holders. Of course … if more of the wealthier factors became High Holders…”

Meinyt laughed, half sardonically, although also with a hint of amusement. “I've made that point myself before the High Council. I appear to be the only one who sees value in such a course of action.”

“The rex could also lower the lands requirement for a High Holder, perhaps by also allowing larger tracts of land in cities to count additionally, perhaps two parts in five more.”

“Some might accept that, if the rex didn't restrict the right of the High Council to approve possible new High Holders. Even so, Cransyr would be opposed to anything along those lines.”

“Is he in favor of anything?”

“Besides double-tariffing factors? I doubt it. It's been rumored that's why Souven is leaving the council. That won't help settle matters, either. Souven must have half a score of factorages across the south.”

“All of them in old Antiago?”

“Largely, I believe.” Meinyt shifted his lean figure in the chair and glanced toward the door. “I don't know that I've been much help, Maitre.” He took a last swallow from the beaker before replacing it on the table.

Alastar understood. “You've made a few things clearer. That's all I asked for.”
Even if you did hope for more.
“You've been kind to see me. I did have one last question, out of curiosity.”

“Oh?”

“You have a most interesting seal. Is there a story behind it?”

“There probably is,” replied Meinyt with a laugh, “but what it might be I have no idea.”

“I won't take more of your time.” Alastar rose, then asked offhandedly, “Is the High Council scheduled to meet any time soon?”

Meinyt grinned as he stood. “Funny thing you asked. We're meeting next Meredi. Cransyr hasn't said why. Not yet, anyway. Wouldn't be surprised if we talked about tariffs along with whatever else the others want to bring up.”

“I'd be surprised if it didn't come up,” replied Alastar genially.

“There are always surprises in life, Maitre. You'd know that better than most.”

Meinyt's parting words were still in Alastar's thoughts when he returned to the Collegium and made his way toward his study door.

“Maitre Thelia left the cloak you requested in your study, sir.” Dareyn looked askance at Alastar. “The map is on your desk.”

“Thank you. I have to meet someone who would rather not have it known that I'm meeting him.” That was a partial truth, but Alastar didn't want to say more.

He was studying the map when Alyna arrived, this time through the main door, which she closed behind her gently. She glanced around the study, a frown appearing momentarily. “I see a cloak and a map. Are you wearing a long dagger?”

“Just a belt knife,” replied Alastar with a smile.

“Does this have to do with what Cyran told you? You're going to Alamara's tonight?”

“I didn't tell him that.”

“You didn't have to. You still have a tendency not to say everything until after it's over.”

“I was about to tell you. I thought it might be more effective to play the role of the worried factor father to get to see Alamara the younger. Rather to get to the point of seeing him without the entire city knowing of it.”

“Too many will still know within days. I'd say that I should go with you,” said Alyna. “Except women don't accompany their husbands to such places, and, if they do go with a man, he's never their husband.” She paused. “You will be careful, and carry full shields?”

“I always do, especially when I leave the Collegium.”

“And don't drink anything … unless it's something you image yourself.”

“You're worried.”

“You're going someplace where no one knows who you are, and you'll look like you have golds. That can be very tempting.”

“I understand, but I don't think I'll find out what I need to know unless I go, and the longer I wait, the worse things will get.”

“You don't know that they're that bad.”

“Tell me that again, dearest.” Alastar looked directly into Alyna's deep black eyes.

Abruptly, she shook her head. “You're right. But I don't have to like it.”

“Neither do I.”

“I'll have Jienna keep some supper for you, just in case.” She paused. “You are
not
to eat anywhere besides here tonight.”

“I won't.”

“Good.” She softened the firmness of the single word by following it with a warm smile.

After she left, Alastar walked over to the dining hall and into the kitchen where he begged some bread and cheese and half a mug of dark lager. He hoped he wouldn't have to do much imaging, but if he did, he didn't want to do it on an empty stomach.

Noergyn, also wearing a cloak, if of brown, rode up outside the main entrance of the administration building just before two quints past fifth glass. “Where to, sir?”

“Alamara's Tavern. Do you know where it is?”

“It's in the theatre district. That's all I know.”

After making one wrong turn, Alastar did find Alamara's, located on Players' Lane, a street unnamed anywhere except on the map that Dareyn had found for Alastar and located two blocks southeast of and running parallel to the Avenue D'Theatre. He reined up several yards from the brass-bound and dark oak double doors.

“Noergyn … just wait around here. I doubt that I'll be longer than a glass, possibly much less. Use a blurring shield on and off so that no one realizes you're here all the time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar dismounted, then made his way to the doors. A pleasant-faced young man opened one for him without speaking. Beyond was a large public room, with solid but polished dark oak tables and chairs. About two-thirds of the tables were taken, but it was early, especially for a Vendrei, but a woman with a lutelin stood on a low platform, not even a dais, in the corner, singing.

 … high upon headland, and clear out to sea,

my true love did sing out his song to me …

He sang and he wept and his words sounded true,

that never the night did I think I would rue …

Alastar recognized the song as an old folk tune, although he had no idea from where it had come, only that his mother had sung it at times. For a moment, he could say nothing, but he forced himself back to the task at hand as he scanned the room. From the layout, the gaming area was likely in the rear. He turned and made his way toward the archway on the left in the back, since he saw servers coming from the left archway with pitchers and trays.

“Sir … that's for gamers.”

“I know. I'm looking for a gamester named Eleon … they say he's a friend of Estafen D'Elthyrd.”

“Never heard of him,” said the sweet-faced server, whose eyes were as cold as stone. “You need a pass to game.”

“I'm not a gamer. I'm looking for someone.”

The server eased aside, and from a recess just inside the archway stepped a large beefy man. “Sir, this is for invited gamers.”

“I'm looking for a frequent gamer.” Alastar stepped forward, using his shields to lever his way past the guard—or bouncer.

“Hold it. Right there.”

Even in the dimness, Alastar could see the short, iron-headed cudgel.

“Don't care who you're looking for. You're leaving.”

“I don't think so,” Alastar said quietly, easing farther along the corridor, before stopping and anchoring his shields to the walls and floor.

The bouncer grabbed for Alastar's shoulder, but his hand slid off the shields. The cudgel came up, level with Alastar's eyes. The man tried to shove Alastar, who didn't move.

“Old man, you're going to move … or you're going to have a busted skull.” The bouncer's spittle splattered off the shields, but the man seemed not to notice.

“I'll move,” said Alastar, letting the cloak open to reveal grays beneath, but only to the bouncer, “but just to see Alamara the younger. If you use that cudgel, you'll break your wrist and look like a fool.”

The bouncer attempted to knee Alastar, but staggered, his face turning white.

“I am an imager maitre, and if you don't take me to see him, you likely won't live the night.”

The man was anything if not persistent and tried to jab Alastar in the gut.

Alastar imaged away the short cudgel. “Try anything else, and I'll image away a few fingers. Just yell out that the boss will take care of me and lead me there.”

The bouncer swallowed, then finally swore, “You old goat! Let's see what the top has to say.”

With those words, everyone looked away, except for the hard-eyed serving girl, who gave the smallest of headshakes.

Alastar unlocked the shields but kept them close to himself as he walked beside the clearly shaken guard along the corridor, past two more brass-bound doors, one on the left and the other on the right.

The guard paused at the last door, this one a shimmering black, but also brass-bound, then opened it and half-gestured, half-pushed Alastar into the chamber beyond, before following and closing the door. A gray-haired woman looked up from where she sat at a table desk placed just to the right of and forward of another door, this one of white oak. Against the wall to Alastar's right were three armless oak chairs.

“The top has to see him,” the hapless guard announced.

The gray-haired woman looked coldly at Alastar.

He looked back evenly. “I'm here to see Alamara the younger. It's a matter of golds, of life, and, in a way, death. You don't want to know. You really don't.”

Abruptly, the woman nodded. “Joast … get out of here. You forget you came here, and who you came with, and I'll forget about having you disappear.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

In instants, Alastar stood alone with the woman.

“Should I know you?”

“That's up to Alamara.”

“Sometimes. This might be one of those times.” She stood and rapped on the closed white oak door. “Someone to see you. Best you see him.” She opened the door and gestured for Alastar to enter. He could see a chamber carpeted with a plush Jariolan tapestry rug, and a table desk shaped like a half-circle. As the door closed, he also saw that the man standing by the desk had a pistol pointed at his mid-section. Alamara the younger appeared scarcely older than some of the junior maitres, clean-shaven, with shortish brown hair and muddy brown eyes. He wore tight-fitting black trousers, a pale blue shirt with a black cravat, and a black vest.

Alamara wasn't quite what Alastar expected, although the pistol pointed at Alastar's mid-section was hardly unanticipated. Alastar imaged it out of the other's hand onto the table desk out of Alamara's easy reach, let the cloak slide open, then smiled. “I have no intention of causing a scene, other than the one I staged. Once we're through, you can tell everyone the obnoxious old man won't be causing anyone any trouble, that you took care of it.”

“You could have asked for an appointment. I could scarcely have refused.”

“It's better this way. You'd prefer that the Maitre of Collegium Imago not visit you openly—or you should—and I'd prefer that, for the moment, our discussion remain between the two of us. The reasons will, I trust, be clear before we finish.”

“We could sit, like civilized men, Maitre.” Alamara gestured toward the two chairs in front of the desk, taking one and turning it slightly sideways.

Alastar did the same with the second chair.

“Might I ask what you want?”

“Information … not anything that should provide a difficulty for you.”

Alamara smiled openly. “What if I think differently?”

“I don't think you will, but feel free to suggest otherwise … after I explain. My first question is very straightforward. Have you noticed greater tensions or hostilities in the gaming rooms between those from a factoring background and those from a High Holder background?”

Alamara frowned. “I must say I didn't expect that question. Should I…” He paused. “You realize that we do not ask where our patrons were born or where they live, just that they establish that they have the funds to back what they wager.”