Empire of Avarice (55 page)

“With due respect, sire,” Panat said, exercising great
restraint, “you are a soldier, a military man. We of the military rejoiced when
you took power. At last, so we thought, here is a man who’ll put the military
back where it should be; our soldiers lack proper barracks, proper training
facilities, proper equipment! Gods, we know how hard it is to get new weapons!”

“Don’t I know that, too,” Astiras agreed darkly,
frowning severely. “But we’re having to face stark facts. One,” he tapped a
forefinger, “my predecessor emptied the treasury and it wasn’t spent on public
buildings, the roads or the army, that’s for certain. Two,” he added his middle
finger alongside his forefinger, “the army – such as it is these days – needs
to march from Kastan or Niake or Turslenka to any trouble spot fast, and it
can’t do that along routes that are half obliterated or full of mud due to
neglect! Three,” and he placed his ring finger alongside the other two, “we
need more funds and fast. We can’t do that by recruiting more soldiers. They
don’t raise funds, they drain them. So we need to spend what we have on
facilities that could feasibly help in gaining us more money. That means
markets, grain exchanges and bigger ports. And better roads,” he nodded to
Isbel who was about to speak, knowing what she was going to add.

Isbel smiled and settled back into her chair. It was
illuminating to her seeing her husband run the council meeting now she had had
a year or more of doing it herself; the skill he showed in dominating the
others was something to admire. She now knew just how hard it was.

“So, General,” Astiras said to Panat, still referring to
his retired rank as a mark of respect and honour to the man who had spent the
last few years not being able to do so, “I’m afraid the military has to step
aside for the moment – but I promise it won’t once we get the chance to build
up the treasury.”

“We have been told that before, sire,” Alvan Ecvar
spoke.

“By deceitful and cowardly men, yes. But I’m not like
them; as a soldier and moreover as a soldier currently fighting a war on all of
our behalf, I know that the army needs funding. We will all benefit from the
rebuilding of Bragal; there are trade goods Bragal has in abundance. Which of
you here laments the drying up of the beautiful wood that comes from that
province?”

Heads nodded all round the table. Bragal was well known
for the hardwoods that went to make the top quality furniture in Kastania, and
recently none of these goods had been available. Astiras grinned. “Imagine the
orders that’ll come once the wood can once more be supplied to the traders here
and in the other places of the empire? Hence, the need for a bigger market
place here.”

“Your estates supplied much of the wood, sire,” Valsan
Kelriun commented.

Isbel stiffened beside her husband. Astiras sensed it. “Counsel,
if I understand your reasoning, you’re concerned we’ll keep much of the revenue
thus raised? Well, I can assure all of you here we won’t steal the treasury
blind. I’ll impose a total imperial control of all wood industry in Bragal at
first, then look to sell concessions to enterprising merchants, but only on the
understanding they sell to Kastanian buyers with a set maximum price.”

“If your estates are still there, sire,” Vosgaris said. “I
understand from what people say much of Bragal has been burned and destroyed –
by each side in the conflict.”

“If they have been burned then we’ll rebuild them. Using
Bragalese wood and Bragalese labour,” Astiras smiled evilly. “I suspect
there’ll be some – ah – prisoners taken from Zofela once my army takes it.”

There were chuckles from around the table. Vosgaris
frowned and produced a sheet of parchment he’d been handed that morning by a
messenger. “Sire, you may wish to see this. A messenger from Makenia handed it
in to me just before I came to this meeting.”

Astiras clicked his fingers and held out his hand
peremptorily. Vosgaris passed it along and Astiras read it, frowning. He bared
his teeth. “So. The canine Nikos Duras has resurfaced.”

“Where, sire?” Panat leaned forward.

“Makenia. Close to the port of Kalkos. He would appear
to be raising a new army after I wiped his last one out. He’s promising all sorts
of things to former soldiers who are out of a job should he become emperor.”

Those at the table looked at one another. Isbel clutched
Astiras’ arm. He grinned at her and passed her the parchment. “Don’t worry
unduly, Isbel. He’s gathering men and supplies. They won’t be ready to cause
too much trouble until the new year and the spring. Winter’s on the way and
nobody will be able to do that much when the snows come.”

“What’s he promising, sire?” Elethro asked. “Money?”

“Partly, yes. Probably his daughter, too.”

“Astiras!” Isbel said heavily.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” the emperor said. Then
he smiled. “Have you seen her? I would have thought the soldiery had better
taste.”

He got a kick under the table. Astiras’ smile got wider.
Some of the men around the table sniggered. Panat then became serious once
more. “Where is he getting this money from?”

Astiras shrugged. He looked along the line of faces to
his left. “Frendicus – have your tax cohorts found anything that the Duras
might have used?”

Frendicus shook his head. “They plead penury, sire. To
be truthful, nothing has come to light from their estates that could be taxed
that isn’t already.”

Elethro snorted. “They made enough money from the time
one of their family was on the throne, and from the rule of your predecessor,
sire.”

“So where has it gone, then?” Panat demanded.

“Good question. If we had the time and resources we’d
descend upon them. However we haven’t,” Astiras pulled a face. “But I’d like to
see this army he is putting together. I want to know if it’s big enough to
march on Kastan or Turslenka. We need to warn Thetos Olskan. Vosgaris, arrange
that, will you?”

“Sire,” Vosgaris bowed.

“Valsan,” Astiras turned to the diplomat, “I want you to
travel to Turslenka to take stock of the city there and report back to me what
you find. Is Olskan doing a decent job and the like. Now, on your way, divert
your journey to the camp of Duras and speak to him. Ask for his demands. Make
him think we’re prepared to listen to what he has to say. You’ll work out what
to say, of course,” the emperor waved a hand in the air. “You’re better at the
diplomatic speech than I.”

Isbel’s mouth twitched. Valsan bowed. “Sire, it shall be
done. I shall depart tomorrow.”

“Good. Now, Elethro, you’ve given me this letter of
introduction from one of your guild, a Piran Tukk.” He scanned a sheet of
parchment before him. “He wishes to begin trading textiles from Kastan
throughout the empire?”

“Indeed, sire. We need to restart the textile trade
here. It withered during the rule of your predecessor and we’re all feeling the
effects. Now, if a market is to be built here, the textile trade would have a
perfect place to sell. After all, it’s something we’re well known for, aren’t
we?”

Astiras nodded. “Even I know that. Agreed. I assume you
have premises in mind?”

“The abandoned Fokis factory, sire.” The council
chuckled.

Evas Extonos stared for a long time out of his office
window overlooking the paved square of Naike, watching the rain lance down. The
townsfolk ran for shelter or cowered miserably under the awnings of their
market stalls. Autumn was a time for rain in Bathenia, the clouds rushing in
either from the Balq Sea to the south or the Aester Sea to the north east.

Evas sighed and turned away from the watery scene. He
eased himself into his chair and gave the pile of documents and reports on his
table a long look. The former High Priest Gaurel Burnas had raised the funds
necessary to repair the main temple in the city and once again people were attending
the ceremonies and praying to the gods to the priests’ satisfaction. Burnas had
admonished Evas and the Koros once more for failing to provide the funding. Burnas
had appealed to the people of Niake to donate the money and they had generously
dug into their own pockets.

Now Burnas was once again issuing thundering
denouncements from his altar. Nobody was safe from his criticisms and Evas was
concerned that the general anti-Koros tone of his speeches would attract the
wrong sort of attention from Kastan. Evas could really do without that sort of
trouble, but he didn’t wish to act against the priests for fear the populace
would turn on him again.

Demtro had become less visible since the Tybar agents
had been exposed. The two Tybar priests agitating in Niake had been identified
and arrested. It appeared that they had been behind the whole campaign to
discredit the Kastanian gods, using bribery and corruption amongst the merchant
and landlord classes to make the citizens bankrupt and homeless, then they
would appeal to them to follow new gods and turn on the old ones who had
clearly let them down. This had been the underlying reason why the temples had
been targeted in the first place – burned by Tybar agents acting amongst the
general rioting.

Since the breaking up of the Tybar cell, things had
quietened down for a while, although periodic Tybar scares had surfaced from
time to time. He had been unhappy about the diplomat Kijimur being allowed to
pass through Bathenia, even if he had been escorted by a squad of Kastanian
militia riders. That had caused another incident when they got close to the
border. Kijimur had insisted the border was some distance further east than
that claimed by Kastania, and the diplomat had been almost arrested in the
argument. Finally the militia had let him go out of fear when Kijimur had
insisted a Tybar army was not too far away and if they saw Kijimur being
manhandled then an invasion would occur.

None of the riders had seen any Tybar soldiers but that
didn’t mean they weren’t there. The terrain of the interior west of Niake was a
series of gradually rising hills that eventually levelled out into a plateau,
bordered by mountains. An army could hide anywhere there and spring an ambush
on an unsuspecting victim. The riders were glad to return to Niake.

Evas was worried that an army was poised close to the
border. He sent a report to Kastan and was awaiting a reply. In the meantime
rumblings of an anti-Koros movement were gaining in frequency and volume. It
seemed people were listening to the poisoned words of those who had been badly
affected by the cutting off of bribe funds from the central treasury, and
recruiting bandits, out of work soldiers and other men wishing to take up arms
against the establishment for whatever reason they had.

Evas had sent warnings to both Kastan and Slenna. Word
was that the leader of this rebellion was a former army officer by the name of
Lombert Soul. He wasn’t a noble but was something of a brilliant tactician. He’d
served in the army under the Fokis and clearly preferred their rule to that of
the Koros. He was based somewhere along the borderlands of Lodria and Bathenia.
Nobody was confirming anything at present but clearly something was amiss out
in the countryside. Travellers were going missing and property was being
burned, but not all in one place. Currently it was sporadic but if Lombert Soul
gathered a big enough army he could march on either Niake or Slenna. The
problem was the exact location of Soul’s base was unknown and if a force was sent
from either Niake or Slenna then it would possibly leave that town or city open
to attack. What was needed was more information. Evas thought about asking
Demtro. It would be something he might like to undertake.

What was high on his priority was funding to enlarge the
port of Aconia, a few miles east on coast of the Aester Sea. In order to handle
more trade and larger ships and the ability to build bigger and better ships,
the port had to be increased in size. Much of the construction workforce in the
region was employed there, bringing timber and stone into the settlement and
carrying out the work. The trouble was Evas had to send some of his soldiers
there to make sure nothing happened to the workforce, and to stop them from
stealing the materials. It went on and the army had arrested a few people,
including a foreman. Since then most of the thefts had stopped but it still
went on in a small way. It was irritating.

Evas examined the list of monies coming in and going
out, and it didn’t tally. Somewhere some funds were being diverted. Exasperated
he called in his financial advisor, a thin man with no humour and less
imagination by the name of Jul Waskott. Waskott was in his early thirties,
sharp-faced and had bad skin. It was the colour of faded parchment and had
spots the size of pupils on his neck and throat. It was fascinating, in a
grotesque way.

“Have you any idea where this money is going, Waskott?”

“Sorry, Governor,” Waskott shrugged. “We’ve checked and
re-checked. It’s an irregular occurrence and as a result we can’t find who is
behind it. Sometimes nothing happens and then suddenly it goes again, but from
another budget.”

“What about the accountants? Surely someone there can
find where it goes? Does it go after the money is deposited in the building
here or when it goes to a particular accounting office?”

Weskott looked sharply at the governor. “Are you
inferring one of my clerks is behind it?”

“Who else, Weskott? I want to know when the money goes
astray.”

The financial advisor sighed. “I shall carry out another
audit. I doubt it will reveal anything, just like the first two.”

He left, shaking his head sadly. Evas paused, uncertain,
then, making a decision, grabbed his quill and a clean piece of parchment. He
didn’t want to fall foul of the Koros by not keeping a tight financial ship,
and although he would rather not ask the irreverent Demtro, there were times
when one had to grasp the nettle, so to speak, and use what you had.

Demtro arrived the same afternoon, the request folded
inside his jacket. “So, Governor,” he said cheerily, seating himself
comfortably, “you have need of me?”

Evas briefly explained the situation. Demtro looked
thoughtful. “So you have no idea who it is and why? How much is involved?”

Evas slid a sheet across to him and Demtro looked at it
and whistled. “Wow, someone’s embezzling on a grand scale. How in the name of
the gods has it gone undetected? Someone’s been very careless – or has been
bought.”

“I’m afraid that my financial office may have been
compromised,” Evas said, a worried tone to his voice. “And as an outsider, you
would be unconnected to whatever is going on here.”

“Unless I’m the recipient of these missing funds,”
Demtro grinned. He saw Evas’ expression. “Oh, worry not, Governor, I have no
need of such funds. I’m making enough to keep me in comfort as well as
supplying the good people of Niake and Bathenia with good quality textiles. Hmmm….
let me study the figures and when the money vanishes and I’ll see if some sort
of pattern emerges.”

“My accountant says there’s no pattern.”

“There’s always a pattern – it’s just that sometimes
they don’t look regular. I’ll need a list of your accounting office personnel
and where they live. One of them has got to be on the inside of this, and I’ll
find who it is and why they’re doing it. And more to the point, where it’s
going.”

“My thanks,” Evas looked relieved. “I – trust you’re not
going to ask for a fee?”

Demtro pursed his lips. “Not in money, no. But a nice
trading concession wouldn’t go amiss. I hear the Tybar are negotiating with the
empire; a trade deal is on the table and if it does come off, there’ll be
sulphur and wool coming in from Kaprenia. I’d like a preferential agreement if
it does.”

Evas looked surprised. “How do you know all this?”

“Governor,” Demtro smiled, “shame on you! I’m a merchant
with big ears, and I also have the ear of the empress. Tsk tsk.”

Evas sighed. “Stupid question, wasn’t it?”

Demtro grinned and pocketed the lists Evas gave him. “I’ll
report back in a sevenday or less if I’m lucky.”

“So quick?”

“Efficiency is my second name,” Demtro stood up. “Be
seeing you, Governor.”

Demtro went straight to the dirtiest dive in town, the
Black Rodent, close to the Aconia Gate. It was through that gate that most of
the traffic that came into Niake entered, and off the main street were the
structures and premises that Niake didn’t want those who came to the city to
see, unless they were looking specifically for them. The Black Rodent was one
such place. The lowest dregs of Kastanian society often came there for a drink,
conversation or just a fight. Anyone innocent or unsuspecting frequently lost
their money there, either voluntarily or involuntarily.

Demtro was well aware of the reputation and clientele
and pushed past the two burly guards at the door. He got a long look from them
but he ignored them. He was looking for his man, Renet. One individual, worse
for a few drinks too many, lurched into his path and looked him over. “Huh,
rich boy, care to give me some of your money?”

“No thanks,” Demtro smiled and went to push past.

The drunk pushed back and tried to punch the merchant
but Demtro ducked and grabbed the man by the crotch and twisted hard. The drunk
went down with a scream and rolled about the vomit and ale-stained floor, much
to the amusement of those seated close by. Demtro wiped his hands together and
stepped over the victim and carried on his way.

The barkeep leaned forward, his greasy tunic open to his
bulging stomach, showing plenty of dark chest hair. “Don’t want no trouble,
mister,” he growled deeply.

“I’m not here to cause any,” Demtro said equably, aware
most of the eyes in the tavern were upon him. “I’m looking for a small guy,
thin, short dark hair, crooked nose that’s been bent in a fight, two teeth
missing from his upper jaw. Resides here. Is he around?”

“Don’t know of no guy by that description, mister.”

Demtro sighed and threw three gold coins on the bar top.
The barkeep’s eyes bulged and the coins vanished in a blink of an eye. Demtro
admired the speed by which it had been done. “Have you seen this man?”

“Upstairs, seeing Clora.”

“Clora?” Demtro said with interest. “One of your girls?”

“Uh-huh. Do that trick with the coins to her and she’ll
be yours for a sevenday!” One or two men leaning on the bar laughed raucously.

“Thanks for that information. I might even try her out. She
got a sister?”

Even the barkeep smiled at that. “Nope. Tough luck,
bud.”

Demtro shrugged and found the staircase and went up. The
rooms were along a corridor and noises of a bed being used came from behind
just one. Demtro eased the door open and saw a girl riding hard, her long red
hair tumbling down her back. Demtro admired the view and her athleticism. Must
be still relatively young. He moved quietly to one side and saw, indeed, Renet
as the recipient of the girl’s attention. Demtro eased himself onto the wooden
stool by the window and waited, reading the lists Evas had presented him.

Presently the girl finished and suddenly noticed Demtro
sat there studying. Her intake of breath was followed by Renet’s snarl. “What
are you doing here?”

“Taking notes,” Demtro said, looking up. “Like to see
how the experts do it.”

Renet threw on his clothes and stood up, not looking too
pleased. “Anyone teach you to knock?”

“Oh yes,” Demtro said airily, “but they also told me
never to interrupt someone who was busy. Bad manners, you see.”

“You’re so funny, you know?” Renet snapped. “So what do
you want?”

Clora was rapidly redressing. Demtro tossed her a coin. She
caught it and blinked in surprise. “Come here,” Demtro beckoned her. Obediently
she slid off the bed and stepped up to him. It only took two; the room wasn’t
that large. “Kneel.” Clora did. “Wait for a moment until I’ve finished with
this gentleman here.”

Renet smirked. “Gentleman? Huh – you’ll be calling her a
lady next.”

“She may well be,” Demtro smiled. He passed Renet the
list of names from the accounts office. “Look these people over. Any of them
living a life over their station or acting oddly, or even having odd friends,
let me know. They’re clerks.”

Renet took the paper and slid it into one of his many
hidden pockets. “And my remuneration?”

Demtro tossed him a coin, too. “That’s for starters.”

Renet nodded appreciatively at the coin. “At least
you’re a decent payer, even if you’re a pain in the ass.”

Demtro chuckled. “It has been said. Report back to me in
a sevenday.”