City in the Sky (8 page)

Another man stood, and another, until every one of thirty men in the room had stood and proclaimed their new allegiance to Erik
septon
Tarverro, now in law and fact their lord and liege.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind, as the new
septon
Tarverro gained a great deal of respect for his grandmother's organizational abilities. She took him to the tailor she'd mentioned, got him sized and fitted for formal court clothes, and paid the tailor to jump the effort ahead of his other contracts to have it done for tonight.

She then took him to the
sept
accountant, where Erik received his greatest shock of the day.

“H
ow
much?” he demanded of the man.

“You are heir to the full
sept
accounts and authorities,” the banker, a small, even for an Aeraid, man named Kilos Rader,
kep
Tarverro, repeated. “Except for a fund set aside in your grandfather's will to maintain his wife and daughter, you have full authority on all accounts and estates of the
sept
.”

Erik shook his head. “Firstly, I don't think that the fund will be necessary. Give Lady Arien complete access to all maintenance funds and liquid assets of the
sept
.” That, he thought, should be enough for her to effectively run the estate until he'd felt his way into the position. “Lady Arien will also function as my deputy on all other matters if I am not present,” he added. Then he glanced over at his grandmother who gave him a small smile. Not really surprised, but approving. “Also,” he continued, “give my aunt limited access to the funds – how much should she need a month?”

“Limit it to about two or three hundred crowns,” Arien advised. “Or she'll spend us out of house and home.”

“Three hundred crowns,” Erik agreed quickly, almost choking on the concept of that as a
monthly
figure. A Newport crown was a quarter-ounce gold coin, effectively identical in value to the Hellitian mark – and one mark was the normal wage for many of Vidran’s laborers. “Now, as to my original question.
How
much?”

“The total, including estate and liquid assets, has an estimated value of two and a half million gold crowns. The actual value is uncertain, as large portions of the estate – such as the
sept
seat and surrounding areas rented to the
kep
families – have never been evaluated for sale.” The banker paused, eyeing Arien, who nodded for him to continue.

“The estate maintains a reserve of one hundred thousand crowns in cash coin,” he told Erik, who couldn't help staring at the man at that figure. “The estate also holds one million crowns worth of shares in roughly one hundred fifty trade ships. Those shares, combined with the rental properties, provide the estate with an income averaging ten thousand gold crowns.”

“Ten thousand a
year
?” Erik asked, stunned. The entire smithy back home, not counting cost of materials and living expenses, had barely made five thousand marks a year between a master, two journeymen, including himself, and half a dozen apprentices.

Kilos shook his head with a pained expression. “No, milord. Ten thousand crowns a month.”

“A month?” Erik repeated.

The banker nodded. “The Tarverros are not the wealthiest
sept
, but we are certainly not the poorest.”

Erik signed the document put in front of him in a haze. When they left the banker's office, Arien looked at him with a small smile.

“Surprised?”

“Very,” Erik replied. “I hadn't realized just how much my father gave up.”

She looked at him oddly. “Your father made the choice I expected from my son – he pursued his heart, as he always had. Don't disvalue your heart, grandson. It can easily be worth a mere two or three million crowns.”

“And we're not the richest?” he asked.

“No. The
sept
Tarverro is far fallen from its heights, but when your heights are as high as ours were, even your fall leaves you higher than many.”

“Our heights?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Of course you wouldn't know.”

“Know what?” he demanded.

“The
sept
Tarverro was the founding family of Newport. For five generations, men of our
sept
were the Kings of Newport. Your great-great grandfather was the last Tarverro King, but we are still both wealthy and powerful. By your ancestors' blood, you are a player in our politics whether you want it or not.”

The formal tunic worn by the
septon
s of the Aeradi was very nearly a uniform, and Erik found it highly uncomfortable. It was long, stretching down to his knees, and high-collared. Each
septon
wore it in his
sept
's colors; in Erik's case, dark green and silver. On the shorter Aeradi he'd seen heading into the Great Hall in front of them, the various colors and their lines looked neatly elegant, but he suspected his extra inches had given the tailor difficulty. As far as he could tell, his tunic didn't fit.

He stopped fussing over his tunic as he and Arien reached the entrance to the Great Hall of the Palace of Newport. He hadn't actually believed her when she'd said she'd present him to the King tonight. Then, however, he hadn't known that the
septon
s and their families had an automatic right to be at this sort of affair.

Arien guided him to the doors into the Hall and up to the herald standing next to it. She leaned over next to the herald and gave him their names quietly, so quietly even Erik couldn't hear what she said.

The man's face shifted through surprise to pure shock to an outright grin. “I see, my lady,” he told her.

“Oh, and Jamie,” she finished as she pulled back from the herald, “indulge yourself.”

The grin turned downright feral as the herald turned into the hall and Erik looked at his grandmother questioningly. Before he could say anything, Jamie, the herald, announced them.

“The Lady Arien
septel
Tarverro,” he boomed, and then paused for a long moment to let what he'd said sink in. Erik could hear the room rustling in shock. They'd be shocked first that she was even
here
– from what she'd told him, Arien had not attended these affairs in years – and then the title would sink in.

Jamie left it a long moment, until the sound shifted from surprise that she was here to questioning the new title. As the rustle of surprise turned to a murmur of questioning conversation, the herald waved them forward and continued his announcement, “and the Lord Erik
septon
Tarverro.”

Erik and Arien stepped into the hall together and paused, allowing the whole Hall to see the new
septon
Tarverro. Erik couldn't help acquiring a feral grin of his own at the utter shock he could see on some of the nearer faces.

He offered Arien his arm and they swept down into the crowd. As they did, Arien leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Jamie has a horrible taste for melodrama. Normally, we get him to suppress it, but a little melodrama was
just
what we needed tonight.”

Erik nodded slightly, and swallowed as he realized where she was taking him: the end of the room, where the thrones of the King and Queen of Newport occupied a raised dais. The thrones were unoccupied, but it didn't take a genius to realize who the man wearing a simple gold circlet and dressed in a black and green
sept
uniform standing at the foot of the dais was.

His Majesty Lokar
septon
Adelnis, King of Newport and member of the Council of the Realm of the Sky, was tall for an Aeradi, at nearly three inches over five feet. Erik
still
had an inch and a half on the dark-haired, muscular man.

Guiding him with an iron grip on his arm, Arien stopped him the traditional three paces from the King. “Bow,” she instructed, murmuring.

Somehow, in the hectic hours of the day preceding this meeting, his grandmother had found time to instruct Erik in the proper bow of a
septon
to his King. His bow was not as graceful or as polished as his grandmother's, or the other men around, but it was, at least, the proper bow.

King Adelnis responded to the bow with the equally proper inclination of his head. “
Septon
Tarverro,” he greeted Erik. “You have been too long from your proper place.” He offered Erik his hand, something only done among friends and relatives among the Aeradi. “I am pleased to welcome the son of my friend to the halls of his fathers,” he continued as Erik clasped his hand in the greeting, “and am
most
pleased to confirm you in the rights and titles of
septon
Tarverro.”

Erik released an imperceptible sigh. The right of the King to approve a
septon
was nothing more than a formality, but his position as a half-blood
septon
was tenuous enough with royal approval. If Adelnis had refused it, he may as well have packed his bags and gone back to Vidran.

The King embraced him as if he were a close friend. “We must speak again, of your father,” he whispered. “Not tonight, but soon.”

Erik nodded imperceptibly. “Your will, my King.”

The meeting with the King done, the other nobles began to converge on Erik. The ones who were already around the King were the first to reach Erik, and they passed him by in a blur of names and faces that he
knew
he would never remember. Once they were clear of the hectic mob around the throne, he realized he probably wouldn't need to.

As the first party approached him, Arien began to whisper their names and positions into his ear. “That's Hiri
septon
Rakeus,
the
richest of the
septi
,” she told Erik, gesturing with her chin at a very fat Aeraid, accompanied by two young men, one of whom had stretched the
sept
uniform as far as it would go towards looking like a peacock, and a young woman. “Don't let his bulk or his wealth fool you, he is neither greedy nor stupid. He is both a very smart man and a very
good
man, which is rare this high among the
ept
.”

“The fop is his biological son, Kels,” Arien continued. “He's deadly with a blade, and that's his sole 'virtue'. The other boy is his adopted nephew, Letir. The boy's parents died young and Hiri's brother adopted him. When
he
died, Hiri effectively adopted the lad.

“The girl is Hiri's daughter, Deria, the antithesis of her brother. She and Letir are lovers, which Hiri turns a blind eye to. They'd marry, but for Letir, a commoner, to marry the daughter of a
septon
, he needs a
septon
sponsor.”

“Why not Hiri?” Erik asked.

“She's
his
daughter,” Arien replied simply. “Another
septon
has to sponsor him.” She looked at him significantly.

“Such as me,” Erik murmured, stating her meaning aloud.

“Such as you,” Arien agreed. “Except that the marriage would almost certainly result in Letir being declared Hiri's heir. Rumor has it that Kels has sworn to challenge and kill any man sponsoring Letir.”

“Why is it worth it to me?” Erik asked softly.

“Hiri is a major player in our politics,” Arien told him. “He controls the faction that believes in open and free trade, which is in the ascendant in Newport right now. His alliance could go a long way to easing your acceptance here.” She paused, and Erik felt her gaze on him. “And because those poor kids deserve a break, and that ass deserves a lesson.”

Erik eyed Kels carefully. Despite his clothes, the man did move with the grace of a swordsman, and yet… The arrogant tilt to his face and the apparent argument he was carrying on with his father suggested other things.

“My father gave up everything for love,” he said quietly.

“That he did,” his grandmother agreed, equally quietly.

“We'll see what we can do,” Erik said finally as the
septon
and his children reached him. Just before they did, Kels gave up whatever argument he was having with his father and stalked away.

Rakeus spent one look after his son, and then turned to Erik. “
Septon
Tarverro,” he greeted him with the carefully measured bow of
septon
to
septon
. “Well come and well met. I am Hiri
septon
Rakeus.”

Erik returned the bow, with as much grace and measure as he could, and the greeting. “A pleasure,
septon
Rakeus. I have heard many things of you.”