Kingshold Page 7

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Grace,” said Hoskin, hands clasped on the desk in front of him and with what he hoped was a concerned look. “There is not going to be a funeral. The monarchy has been dissolved. At Jyuth’s insistence, you understand. The body has been disposed of.”

  “The warlock is behind this, then. I thought as much. I remember the day when he took my brother away. We were both children, you know. He made him king. And he only had one son, who is now dead, so hereditary law states I’m next of kin and I’m legitimately king.”

  “Dear Duke, you must have misheard me. The monarchy has been abolished. No more kings or queens, princes or princesses. I believe Jyuth dearly loved your brother, but now he refers to all kings and queens as arsewipes. So, no more throne for you to go after, I believe, and if you disagree with that, then it’s best to bring it up directly with the wizard. I’m sure Percival here could go and find him—”

  “That won’t be necessary, Hoskin,” interrupted the old man. Funny that no matter how indignant someone was, it always disappeared when faced with the prospect of actually talking with Jyuth. “I…er…don’t deign to talk to the murderer of my kin. Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, you know. I’m on my way to meet with the father of Queen Tulip and pay him my respects. I’m sure he’ll boil with anger at the fate of his daughter—”

  “Actually, Jyuth sent him a note himself, offering his condolences and explaining the evidence of what he had discovered Randolph and Tulip were doing. And how he would personally ensure that none of the evidence would become known to other families of significant station. And do you know, the Duke of Breckon Heights sent a note back actually thanking Jyuth for cutting off his own daughter’s head. Said it saved him doing it himself!”

  The duke’s pallid features went even more pale. So much so, he looked like a ghost. He gasped for air, white turning to purple, and he banged the floor with his cane. A manservant and his blushing bride ran into the room and helped the duke to his feet, Hoskin assumed to administer some assistance or take him to a doctor. As they were walking out of the room, the young woman turned back to look at the chancellor, her scowl perfectly practiced.

  “You despicable man! You haven’t heard the last of Northfield, I tell you. He should be your king!”

  “Goodbye, girl,” said Hoskin with a sigh. “Be careful of what you wish for.”

  “Lord Chancellor, may I please introduce Guild Master Wren, of the Moneychangers’ Guild.”

  “Chancellor Hoskin, thank you for making time to see me today. I have dire news indeed. Dire news that threatens the very fabric of our city! The economy is on shaky ground!”

  Hoskin leaned forward in his chair and looked across the table at the chief banker of Edland, and the second successive prune of a man. Wren had led one of the most prominent banking houses when his father was chancellor, and he had been guild master for the last twenty years. Proximity to ledgers was obviously a good preservative. Though the banker’s face was creased with wrinkles, and he had small wireframe spectacles perched on his nose, his eyes were alert, and he was still renown for being a shrewd judge of character in his business dealings. But here again was a man who was not one to pass up an opportunity.

  “What is it, Guild Master?” asked Hoskin. “I had heard business is booming.”

  “Oh no, my lord. It’s hard these days to be in the banking business.” Wren shook his head, his features channeling a widow asking for money to feed her starving family. No doubt with plenty of experience on what that looked like having spent a good amount of his career turning down such requests. “We have a run on the banks, my lord! All the noble houses and the richest merchants are withdrawing gold from the vaults. It has to stop!”

  “But is it not their gold, Guild Master?”

  “Well, of course it is! But they can’t take it all out at once, can they? We loan that money to business opportunities, to finance construction, to loan to the crown, Chancellor. If everyone takes out their deposits, then how can we make investments with which to make a return! Our vaults are running low, Lord Chancellor. We need new laws so we can have adequate time to give people their money when they ask for it. Let me see, ten days should be appropriate.”

  “I find it hard to believe your vaults are running low, Wren.” Hoskin considered the old banker over steepled fingers. “In fact, I’ve heard that some lending houses, including your own, have been executing on demon loans to finance…how shall we refer to them…middle-income traders and tradesmen. I heard the going rate is fifty crowns for a one-month loan. It seems like you have enough gold to strike these deals, sir.”

  “Slander! Fifty crowns interest? Never, Chancellor.” Wren assumed a look of indignation. “I believe the rate is only twenty-five crowns, and we are only accepting the best collateral from the best individuals who are challenged from a liquidity perspective. You understand.”

  “I do understand. And I have every confidence you’ll figure out your own liquidity needs to meet your responsibilities to your depositors.” Hoskin sat back in his chair and smiled. “Tell me, Guild Master Wren, how much does the crown owe to your member houses? I don’t believe I have that number on hand.”

  “I believe it’s around three hundred thousand crowns, Lord Chancellor, and I’m sure you remember we’ve provided those loans at only the best interest rates.”

  “Of course, Guild Master. I do remember the good friend the crown has always had in the Moneychangers Guild. Tell me, did you read the announcement of the elections with your usual attention to detail? You do understand Jyuth declared the abolition of the crown, not a process to declare a new king, but the dissolution of the crown and its institutions. I’m fully expecting I will not have a job in twenty-three days’ time. Have you considered what it could mean for you?”

  “…” The old guild master turned pink, and then red and purple. “…”

  “Wren, I do believe you’ve forgotten to breathe. Percival, would you mind patting the guild master on the back to see if you can bring the old man back to life? We can’t have more prominent individuals of the city dying in the palace, can we?”

  Percival walked behind the old man and gave him an open-handed SLAP between the shoulder blades, and the guild master quickly drew in a deep breath. Hoskin flicked his eyes toward the exit, and so, Percival grasped Wren under the armpits to help him to his feet and guide him to the door.

  “So nice to see you, Guild Master,” called Hoskin to his retreating guest. “Be well and good luck with your conversations with all of the candidates. I’m sure they’ll all soon be getting a lot of your assistance.”

  Hoskin leaned back in his chair and gave himself the pleasure of a little smile. He was quite enjoying himself.

  “Lord Chancellor, may I please introduce Ambassador Egyed of the Deep People, KeyBearer of Unedar Halt.”

  Through the door walked an incredibly pale-skinned man, his complexion almost translucent, a foot shorter than the average Edlander, but broad in shoulder and chest with biceps as big as Hoskin’s thighs. His long white hair and beard were both plaited into braids, and large gold hoops hung from ear helix, lobe, and nostril. This visitor also wore spectacles, but bigger than the guild master’s, with dark purple glass contained within the rims.

  As befitting all parties to meet with the lord chancellor, the ambassador was not officially permitted to bring any weapons into the palace; however, the ceremonial rod he carried, made of steel and with rough uncut gems of red and green embedded in the balled end, looked like it could cause some serious damage in his hands.

  Egyed walked over to the desk, gave a small bow, and sat in the chair opposite Hoskin.

  “Welcome, Ambassador. How are our favorite neighbors?” asked Hoskin. It went unnoticed by many in Kingshold, but the people of Edland shared the far eastern edge of their country with the dwarves of Unedar Halt. The deep people had lived under Mount Tiston for centuries before Kingshold was founded as just a keep and
few surrounding hovels. Thankfully, they had generally been good neighbors, the last hostilities being many years ago. “What do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “We are well, Chancellor. Our caverns are dry, the fish in our lakes are teeming, and our new seams are plentiful. We heard about the passing of King Randolph, so I came to pay our respects.” Egyed betrayed little emotion as he spoke. Hoskin had always considered him an opponent to avoid at Picket for fear of losing his shirt. “And then I understood the little prick was killed by the wizard, and it made me smile. He was truly a terrible king, Chancellor Hoskin. But we have always found our dealings with you to be sound.”

  “Yes, he was rather full of himself, even though everyone else thought him quite empty,” remarked Hoskin. He was only just beginning to realize how grateful he was the king and queen, with their attendant whims, were no longer around. “I’m sure you’ve also heard about the transition we’re going through to select a lord protector, but I want to reassure you no matter what happens, I think all in Kingshold see the mutually beneficial relationship we have. And many of us remember that much of your city sits under ours, and I don’t think anyone wants the ground to fall out from under them.” Hoskin laughed. “That was a joke, Ambassador.”

  “Are you sure it was, Chancellor?” Hoskin detected the beginnings of a smile at the corner of the dwarf’s mouth. “I did hear about the election, and I’m familiar with a number of the candidates. Most of them seem to be motivated by gold, even more so than my kin. Why is it only people with money get to have a say? All of our elders have a say in the selection of the forger, and all must agree. It’s been known to take weeks before a decision is made, but then all stand behind that leader.”

  “Ambassador, your ways work for your people, but our belief that some people are better than other people is deeply entrenched in our society. Those people lucky enough to be born as the privileged few fear it could be taken away from them at any moment. I’ve read about more egalitarian societies in other parts of the continent, but that’s not going to be our lot, I’m afraid. Is there anything else I can do for you today, Ambassador?”

  “Chancellor, I think you know I wouldn’t have made the trip above surface without other items that need to be discussed.” The dwarf now truly cracked a smile, showing off a few gold teeth, one embedded with a diamond. “I do believe we still have the outstanding issue of effluent runoff, the price of wheat, and this summer’s exercise in drake elimination. Our historians believe this year is going to have a significant migration back to the mountain for roosting.”

  Hoskin didn’t try to hide the sigh. Just when he thought the day was going to be all fun, the world came along to remind him of his place.

  The rest of the day progressed in a way closer to the meeting with the ambassador than his early successes against elderly men. Various nobles or representatives of institutions with some concern or another.

  He was going to have to talk to Percival about how one young lordling had managed to gain an audience to demand damages because the king and queen would not be attending his solstice ball after his family had made some significant contributions to secure their presence. Hoskin fully intended to have the city guard visit the little turd and, at the very least, scare him and his father about the implications of making threats to the lord regent, even if he would only have the title for a little more than three weeks.

  And, unfortunately, Percival had saved the best meeting for last.

  “Lord Chancellor, may I please introduce Gawl Tegyr, Bearer of Light, Bringer of Peace and Ambassador of Pyrfew.”

  “Gawl, please be seated. It’s been a long day, and I’m not sure I want to hear the peace you have brought me.” The ambassador of Pyrfew intensely irritated Hoskin.

  He was clearly of middle years, but imbued with a sickening amount of vitality and good health. He dressed well, in bright expensive colors, that complemented his trim frame, and always accessorized with a broach or chain of exquisite delicacy. He irritated Hoskin even before he opened his mouth. And the fact Edland had been in a hot or cold war with Pyrfew for hundreds of years didn’t generally help matters.

  “Chancellor Hoskin, it’s been a long day for me, too. Your man here has kept me waiting since nine this morning.” Hoskin smiled internally at that news. Percival had redeemed himself the folly of admitting the party boy if only to keep this odious man waiting longer. “But I’m pleased to be seeing you now. How are you enjoying your new station?”

  “I’m living the dream, Gawl. I can assume it’s no coincidence you present yourself here mere days after the change in control in our fair land? Come to pay your respects, have you?”

  “Emperor Llewdon was extremely saddened to hear of the demise of King Randolph. Yes, he may have once again stolen Redpool from our lands, but we thought he was someone with promise and someone to bring our nations closer together. What a shame it was to hear the mage thief had once again intruded in the proper running of your land. How do you even stand for his continuous meddling?”

  “I’m sure Lord Jyuth would not be happy for you to refer to him as a thief, Gawl,” said Hoskin. “At least our wizard hasn’t been the one placing the chokes at our necks for the last six hundred years as your emperor has done to your people. All are grateful for his protection and wisdom and that of his forebears. Would a father abandon his children when they need help?”

  “Father or puppet master? The answer to that is a matter for your faith, and how you sleep at night, Chancellor. It’s a bold move opening yourselves to so much chaos, experimenting with letting the people choose a leader in these troubled times. I do hope the decision is a wise one, Lord Hoskin. Will the new Protector understand the delicate balance in the world today?”

  “I have every confidence that any likely victor will see the snake at the door, and they will surround themselves with the appropriate experts. And I can assure you our navy will continue to be the best on the seas and will not allow any challenge to our dominance.” Hoskin decided to play his hand a little. “Our master of ships is an admirer of the yards in Ioth, where we know they’re building your new fleet. In fact, he says they’ve recently mastered designs he learnt as an apprentice. You can have your empire of empty land and squalid cities, but we own the seas, and so, we own the trade. And let me make this clear, Redpool will remain part of Edland.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Lord Chancellor, but you misunderstand my questioning for threats. We mean you no harm. We’re only concerned for the populace of our friends across the narrow seas which separate us. If you believe we once coveted this island realm, you can rest assured our discovery of the Wild Continent is the greater focus of our expansion. Why settle for a stepping stone in the river when we have the whole of the far bank for our own?”

  “I’m well aware of your adventures in that place, and the despoilment of the land you’re carrying out in your emperor’s name. We’ve seen the slave ships coming back to Pyrfew, and we turn them away from our ports when they seek harbor, as we want no part in that foul practice. And you forget we have one of those people you call savages living here in the city. She has provided us with many perspectives on your actions there.”

  “I forgot your sensitivities to slaves. It’s strange to us when you have thousands of souls living in squalor outside the protection of your walls, with disease and no food. You’re obviously by far our superior.” Sarcasm dripped from his pores as he spoke. “And we remember the witch fondly from her stay with us. I do hope you pass on my regards when you see her next. As you said, we’re both tired, so I think we’ve spoken enough.” Gawl Tegyr got up and walked to the door, talking over his shoulder as he strode confidently away, “I shall leave the city at first light. Good luck with this election. I think you’ll need it.”

  Chapter 8

  Foolish Old Man

  Flying cleansed her mind, the focus on the flapping of her wings, the soaring on updrafts to conserve her energy, in a way not even her tran
ces could do. She was one with the World, and not troubled by the petty affairs far below her.

  As Neenahwi journeyed back to Kingshold, she sometimes joined flocks of other migratory birds heading north for summer breeding grounds, allowing herself to warm in the pure comfort of a family that would surround her, even though she suspected the other birds wondered who this newcomer was. She took her turn at the front of the flock, as well as slipstreaming behind. Geese could be terrible gossips, and as long as she did her part, most were fine without much chatter.

  She flew over jungle, plains, forest, desert, and sea, signs of human habitation below, but Neenahwi stayed away from all intelligent life.

  She could fly through the night if needed, but she typically found a sheltered and quiet place to land and camp. During these times, she didn’t sleep so much as meditate, recharging her mind and body while her eyes stayed open and alert to keep watch.

  Each time, after reverting to human form, she pulled her silken robe from her pack to cover her modesty, and then took time to study the treasure she had recovered from the demon Barax. The gem had been hard won, the battle with the woman-panther had drained her, but it would have required expelling much more hard-earned energy if it wasn’t for the appearance of the goblins.

  She had never been thankful for a goblin war party before, and she was sure the appreciation would have been tempered if they had caught up with her, but it had been a boon.

  The fall over the cliff was not enjoyable, though.

  She had a few contusions and scrapes, a nasty knock to the head from the almost sheer drop, before she had been able to gather her will and slow her descent (transforming shape in midair being much too risky). The few goblins, who, in their exuberance, had forgotten the location of their own backdoor, didn’t have the benefit of a magically induced updraft, and they had fallen past her to the ground.