Alchemy Page 13

  But if they were to live without a king, then they had to find some way of governing as a group. This council would show if that was possible. Otherwise, they would be back to Wierstoke and Lorcan slogging it out until a victor emerged. A new king would then be crowned and they would all be at his mercy. Whether Lorcan or Wierstoke would be better was something she wasn’t sure of. They were both ruthlessly ambitious, both concerned about their own wellbeing before the people’s, particularly as they both held firm to their beliefs in Naufren superiority. Like Fiedra, would they care if the people of this land starved? Would they, like Raufasger had, feed people just enough to keep them weak and too scared to cause trouble. Any new ruler would fear revolt and challenge to their legitimacy above all else.

  Young Tilley arrived and stood awkwardly in the hall. Ashra smiled at him. Eventually, other people followed. As of yet, neither Lorcan nor Wierstoke was there. The hall was soon abuzz with talk, people milling around in groups.

  Lord Ackerle approached her. “Lady Greve. I am most curious to see what this council will entail.”

  “I’m not sure anyone really knows. I have asked the administration to give us an overview of the state of affairs. We will have to take it from there. This is new ground for everyone.”

  “Right, right,” Ackerle said. “Should be interesting.”

  She didn’t feel it was the time or the place to confide in Ackerle, but what would be interesting was if Woord or the guard didn’t show up. Then what would they do? It effectively meant the administration and the military were snubbing the land owners. “I hope so,” Ashra said, nervously wringing her hands.

  With a sense of relief, she noticed that Niesen Woord had appeared, a rolled-up scroll under his arm. He might not be happy about being here, but he was here, ready to present to them. He gave her a terse nod, but she could tell that he had no love for her. His dislike was not something she would ever worry about. Turns out she was a creature of this court now, and someone’s dislike rolled off her like water off a duck’s back.

  Wierstoke appeared as well—too curious and pragmatic to keep away. It was a victory, even if Lorcan stayed away.

  It was time to start and she nodded to the pages to open the doors to the hall, where rows of seats had been prepared. A table stood at the very front.

  Ashra took her seat on the front row and the gathered crowd milled to their seats in a subdued fashion. No one knew how this would unfold, including her. Woord would, in effect, lead the way.

  He moved to the front, placing down his materials on the table, his face and mouth drawn. It seemed he saw no reason to hide how little he liked this. If he continued to act in a contrary fashion, perhaps this council would have to see about replacing him. Of course, no one knew who had the power to banish someone from the citadel, but they were basically here to claim that power.

  Harsh steps were heard from the hall outside and before long, a uniformed man appeared, his face even more drawn than Mr. Woord’s. Again, relief washed through Ashra, because this man’s appearance signified that the guard had arrived at the meeting. She didn’t know him, or any of the other men who oversaw the security of the citadel and the realm at large. But he was here, and that was a victory. The guard were putting themselves under this council’s power, at least tentatively.

  The man marched to the outer seat in the front row and sat down, crossing his legs. Shiny black boots covered his lower legs. He stared ahead and didn’t acknowledge anyone. Still, the fact that he was here was a relief.

  Looking around at the gathered party to see who had not attended, she saw Lorcan in the back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He had come, also tentatively. Not entirely accepting enough to sit down, but he was here. Everyone was here. She had proposed this and everyone was complying with it. Undoubtedly, they would not be getting on and agreeing to most things, but they were all in one room, and that counted for something. They had a medium of communication between the arms of government, and the people who were putting themselves forward to govern.

  Chapter 22

  Woord cleared his throat and the room quietened, listening intently. He looked lost for words for a moment. “We are all, of course, lost at the despicable murder of our esteemed liege.” Woord threw a harsh look at the military man, as if blaming him for letting the deed happen. “It was the most vile deception and betrayal. Unfortunately, Raufasger didn’t ever chose a successor, which places us in a predicament. We are here today to discuss the appointment of a new ruler. We propose that the administration—”

  Cheeky little sod, Ashra thought and rose. Everyone’s attention turned to her. “Actually, we requested a conveyance of the state of affairs.”

  “It is the administration’s role to see to the state of the lands.”

  “But you have no oversight, Mr. Woord. We are here to provide you oversight.”

  Woord was turning absolutely red. “That is not your place.”

  Ashra blinked. “Then whose place is it? Yours? We are the landowners.”

  His mouth was moving as if he wanted to say something but wouldn’t let himself. He knew full well that he had to be careful. It was him that truly had no legitimacy to make decisions for the realm.

  “It is not your place to tell us what to do,” Lorcan said from the back.

  “When a new liege is in place—” Woord stammered.

  “Well, he is undoubted in this room. Until then, we have asked you to inform us about what you know of the state.”

  Ashra was grateful for Lorcan’s support in this, although she didn’t know if he was supporting her or simply annoyed that Woord was dismissing their right to question him. The problem was that the courtiers didn’t officially have a role with the state, and there was nothing to specify that they did if the liege died either. She also noted that Lorcan had said ‘he’ when referring to the new liege. That was telling, but nothing she didn’t already know.

  “If you wish to know every gritty detail…”

  “We do not wish to know every gritty detail, Mr. Woord,” Ashra said. “We wish to know the pertinent things, a summary—any threats or issued that need to be immediately dealt with.”

  “We deal with an innumerable number of things,” Woord said haughtily

  “If you feel incapable of summarizing the important facts, Mr. Woord, perhaps you need to be replaced.”

  It didn’t escape her that the military man was paying close attention. Woord wasn’t really the issue here. As opposed to his own high self-opinion, he was nothing but a sniveling clerk, but the military had the power to go their own route. That man could be here to take their measure, to blow smoke up their backsides to keep them from being trouble—the strategy that Woord had obviously chosen. This would not be something she would be happy with, and neither should anyone else in this room.

  “So, what do you wish to know?” Woord said in a surly voice.

  “Let’s start with food production and distribution. What is the state of it?”

  Woord looked as if he was shaking with anger, biting his lips together. “There has been some loss of production.”

  “What loss?” Lord Heiege asked.

  “There has been movement of people,” the military man said when Woord didn’t see fit to respond.

  “Movement?” someone said.

  “There are people walking off the crown land,” Woord finally admitted, a little deflated.

  “My maid walked off the other day. Not a word,” a woman said with piercing offense.

  “Shut up, woman,” someone next to her said. Ashra assumed it was her husband.

  “How many?” Ashra asked.

  “We don’t know exactly, but food production is affected. We are going to need the esteemed people in this room to assist a little.”

  Now they were esteemed, Ashra thought.

  “Assist?” someone said. A murmur of discontent broke out across the room.

  “Wheat, particularly. We need to augment the state pro
vision of wheat.”

  “The state can buy at market prices,” someone said.

  The military man rose and the whole room quietened. “There is growing discontent. Violence is breaking out in certain quarters. If the wheat doesn’t flow, there will be uprisings—more than we can handle.”

  A silence settled over the room. “And who are you? And when were we going to be informed of this?”

  “I am Captain Burgess,” he said. He ignored the second part of the question.

  Ashra rose. “Perhaps we all need to make a contribution of wheat based on the size of our holdings.”

  “What do you mean holdings?”

  “The amount of land you have.”

  “But I don’t grow wheat. Most of my crop is barley.”

  “Then trade your barley,” Ashra said through gritted teeth. “I am sure we can create a marketplace amongst ourselves.”

  “Why should I pay more?” said one of the courtiers with a midsized holding.

  “Why shouldn’t you?” Ashra challenged.

  “Sort the people walking off the land and we won’t have to hand over our crops,” Lord Corston said dismissively. “How have we let the people walk off the land?”

  “We don’t have the men to deploy to guard field hands.”

  “Then they need to fear doing so. Hunt them down and make them regret it.”

  “That hardly solves a shortage of workers in the agricultural sector, does it?” Ashra said. “And if we increase persecution, discontent will grow.”

  More discontent was expressed. This wasn’t the orderly discussion Ashra had hoped to have. Then again, she didn’t think the people gathered here had had a remote inkling how bad things were away from the cloistered luxuries of the citadel.

  “Do you not understand that we are in a precarious situation?” Ashra said in a harsh, loud voice.

  “We need a new liege,” a man called.

  “In the meantime, we must solve these problems, or a new liege will be pointless.” Ashra turned her attention to Woord. “Please let us know how much is needed to fill the shortfall.”

  Ashra sat down. She hadn’t known the situation was quite as bad as what they were hearing. Hunger had existed even before Raufasger had died, and here they were squabbling over achieving those levels. She sighed.

  Chapter 23

  The contribution of wheat was made grudgingly by some, but most understood that it had to be done. The issue was the non-productive crown lands. It only went to prove that there were a whole lot of people who were in places and positions they hadn’t wanted to be in. That was actually a much harder problem to solve.

  Captain Burgess wanted more men to enforce security, which would mean taking a large bite into the crown coffers, or raising taxes. These were the important questions this council had to answer, as neither the administration nor the military could make these decisions, and would simply let things slip because of it until situations became untenable.

  Raising taxes would be painful for the population at large, and maybe be a risky move at a time like this. Alternatively, it was uncertain what state the coffers were in. They hadn’t had time to get into that level of detail at the council meeting.

  A deep unease had crept into Ashra, that things were worse than she’d realized. The council meeting had proved that things were bad, but still, she feared that the true situation was more dire than they had been led to believe. It wasn’t perhaps that Woord and Captain Burgess had lied, but they could be interpreting things as not being as bad as they really were.

  There was no way of knowing. Ashra felt like they didn’t have all the information. In fact, they were putting their faith in Niesen Woord, who she knew tried to cover things up, and Captain Burgess, whom they actually knew nothing about. What was true was that Woord didn’t trust him, but that could mean anything.

  The only way to know was to go have a look for herself. The stakes were so high, this wasn’t something she could just let go of and hope for the best. How were they supposed to make good decisions about what needed to be done, and how to govern, if they didn’t have all the facts?

  Walking to the edge of the room, she pulled the rope that called for a page to attend her. It took a few minutes, but a page appeared.

  “I would like my carriage prepared,” she said and the young man nodded to go carry out her request.

  Ashra sighed. If only she would be getting the carriage in order to go back home. It wasn’t time yet. Maybe once they had things settled, the council was working and doing its job, and not exclusively driven on her will power, then she could take a step back. How many times had she told herself that it just wasn’t the right time yet? It seemed like countless. It was never the right time to go home. That time always seemed to be just over the horizon, coming into sight before slipping away.

  At times, she couldn’t help wondering if she was better off settling on one of them for king and cutting her losses. But it would be the whole nation suffering if they did this wrong.

  Grabbing her fur-lined coat, she made her way out of her apartments and started the journey down to the courtyard below. The climb up again would be more trying, but she had to do this—go to Tondoke and see for herself.

  The carriage was waiting, the wind whipping at her clothes as she stepped outside. It had actually been a few days since she’d been outside. The inside of the carriage was cold and slightly damp.

  The rhythmic beats of horse hooves were soothing on her mind that had been desperately busy of late. For a moment, she could just sit and relax, try to step away from the worry that constantly plagued her. Her mind traveled to Lorcan, wondering what he was doing. She hadn’t spoken to him for a few days. No doubt, both he and Wierstoke were both working on their campaigns. Neither of them were taking her plans particularly seriously, probably expecting them to fail—were even humoring her.

  At times, she felt too tired to care. She wanted her son, her family. But parts of it felt like it was slipping away. At some point, one she couldn’t quite define, Torunn had started fading from her. It hurt to consider it, but it was true. The fact that there had been so much he’d hidden from her had caused a schism, and she’d had no way of mending it. Month after month, he seemed to be further and further away from her.

  Sighing deeply, she cleared the morose thoughts from her head. She rubbed along the bridge of her nose. It was time to be shrewd and analytical. Her querying mind felt like a cool, calming blanket. She had a job to do.

  Rain had started pelting on the windows of the carriage, but she could see people working in the fields. There was an indication that not all had fallen apart. There were people still working. Things couldn’t be that bad. The infrastructure of society wasn’t breaking down around them. The worst of her fears were not coming true.

  The town came into view and it looked similar to how it had been the last time she’d seen it. Carts were going about their business, the shops were open and there weren’t angry mobs milling around, ready to march on the citadel.

  Mud squelched under her foot as she stepped down from the carriage. She unfurled her umbrella and walked down one of the streets. Now that she was here, she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. The town would have some kind of leader, someone who dealt with the administration.

  A tavern was in sight, the light from the windows glowing warm and welcoming. At one point, her father had loved spending a quiet night in a tavern after a long day. Those days seemed so very ancient now, so distant, as if it had been another lifetime.

  Looking through the window, she saw people inside. There wasn’t any shortage of ale, it seemed. Stepping inside the door, moist warmth greeted her. A silence descended across the whole tavern as everyone turned to her.

  “Hello,” she said and was greeted by continued silence.

  “Are you lost, my lady?” the barkeep finally asked.

  She took some steps toward the bar, all eyes following her as if a specter had appeared in front of
them. “I was hoping to have words with the town leader.”

  The barkeep with a rough face and heavy eyebrows considered her. “And what do you wish with this town?” She noted that he didn’t answer the question. Was that because he was the leader? The tavern was often the center of a town. His face was drawn with a slight frown.

  “I am just doing a survey to see if there are any things that are failing,” she said, feeling the heavy disapproval of the people in the tavern. Then again, she couldn’t blame them for being suspicious.

  “Failing? Everything has been failing here for years.”

  “If there is anything in particular, we could try to address it,” she said with a smile. “If anything is slipping, it can be looked at.”

  “What we need is not to be bothered with your lot,” said a man sitting by the bar, his hand on the handle of a heavy tankard.

  “Look, I am only here to see if there is anything crucial that is slipping in this time of confusion.”

  “Since the bastard’s death?”

  “Hey, hey,” people called merrily around the tavern.

  “Aren’t you that Solmnite lady?” another man asked. “The one that married into a Naufren house.”

  She hadn’t known that people had been aware of her and the circumstances of her marriage.

  “What you be wanting with us, lady?”

  Their belligerence was getting to her now and she was actually getting annoyed. “I am actually trying to stop any needless suffering if it’s in my power. But if you’re all fine, then I will go.”

  “Go back to your cossetted tower,” a woman spat. Her dress was both gaudy and tatty, low cut enough to signify that she performed favors in return for compensation.

  Ashra turned to leave. This really hadn’t gone to plan. A younger man stepped in her way. Ashra swallowed hard, but refused to show how aware she was that she was alone and surrounded by hostile people. He had green eyes that sparkled with intelligence and mischief. “The only thing we needed was that bastard’s death. Now if only the fucking citadel and everyone in it would burn to the ground, all would be well. If you could see to that, lady, we would all be most grateful.”