Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles) (5 page)

     I’d had this conversation before, but not with them.

     “There’s a Wolf Soldier named, ‘J’her,’” I informed them.  I’d noted his service.  He’d been with me at Tamaran Glen, and at the Sack of Outpost IX, as it was being called.

     “Have him sent to me.”

     All four nodded.  Every night we waited respectfully outside of the doors for Glennen to arrive.  Guests would be seated before him, so that they could stand in attendance when he entered.  However I would be expected to enter right behind, to learn from him how to conduct myself at the meal.

    
“One of your advisors is a bounty hunter,” the third Oligarch warned me.  “And we are informed already that they do not see service to you as an obligation of theirs.”

    
“So why is he here?” I asked.

    
“He is Tom Kelgan, and he is an essential part of the intelligence here,” the fourth said.  “Even if he must be replaced, then we must speak with him and learn what he knows.”

    
I nodded.  If he did the job of our Drekk, then we couldn’t just boot him out the back door and be rid of him – not if we wanted the intelligence of the nation to keep running.  I would need my own people, however.  Whether Glennen got better or not, we were going to have to run things.

    
“I think that propriety has been served,” the third Oligarch told me.

    
I nodded again.  They threw open the doors and the court stood.

    
There were dozens.  Glennen had supposedly hated to eat alone.  Hectar, the Duke of Eldador, sat to my right with his wife whose name I always got wrong.  They had a son, Hectaro, seven years old and already being aimed at Lee. 

    
The Oligarchs sat at the four corners of the long table, to disperse their wisdom.  There were a few court barons – landless men with titles who hung about the palace looking for ways to further their positions or their wealth, and to be pains in my ass.  They all knew that the duchy of Thera went up for grabs when Glennen couldn’t rule any more.

    
Daharef, the general who had replaced Sammin, and his latest honey, an Uman this time, sat next to a man who wore a breastplate and had daggers crossed behind his shoulders.  He stood with the table between us, his back to the wall, away from the one great window that faced the bay, and he looked me right in the eye.

    
He had red hair brushed out and hanging over one shoulder, a moustache that drooped past his mouth, and green eyes that bore right into me.  No need to guess who he might be.

    
There were other people I hadn’t seen before.  I hadn’t been outgoing enough as the Heir.  I didn’t consider them beneath me; I just didn’t have a lot of time.

    
I walked to the head of the table.  Shela stood in front of the seat beside mine, beaming at me because she still hadn’t gotten used to this.  The Oligarchs took their places; I took mine, nodded regally, and sat.  They all sat as soon I settled in.  Shela touched my hand and, when I turned to her, shot me a smile.

    
I broke protocol and kissed the end of her nose.  That earned a polite titter at the table, and the Duchess of Eldador looked sideways at her husband.

    
“We are pleased that all of you could attend,” I said.  “I – um – We are informed that We are to mix business with pleasure, and discuss affairs of state.”

    
“Mix business with pleasure?” Hectar asked me.

    
Uman servants entered with platters.  Just as in the Fovean eateries, we didn’t order food and it didn’t come in courses.  The table would be piled high and then we would take what we wanted.

    
Shela took my plate and filled it, so that the other guests could eat.  No one would take a bite before I did.

    
“We mix the business of the day with the pleasure of your company,” I explained.

    
Several nodded.  “What a bright way to look at things,” the Duchess commented.

    
Slang breaking in my favor?  That was promising.

    
“Our first issue,” said Oligarch two, leaping into business, “is the state of our relations with other nations.”

    
“No,” the red-haired man said.  “The first issue is your state of relations with
me
.”

    
Even the servants paused over that.  Calling me out at dinner probably made for an even larger breach of protocol than the kiss.

    
“It is, is it?” I said, looking at him directly.

    
“This is our bounty hunter advisor, Tom Kelgan,” the third Oligarch said.  “He is in charge of –“

    
“He is a representative of the bounty hunters’ guild,” one of the barons said.  He was a slight man in elegant clothes, sitting next to Kelgan.  He was either really brave or really naïve.  “He has sworn to bring you to the justice of the guild.”

    
“What makes him think he will survive this meal?” I asked, as Shela laid my plate down before me.  I picked up a fork and took a bite so that the others could eat.  Most looked nervous as they reached for food.

    
“I thought the safety of a dinner guest ensured,” the bounty hunter said, reaching for a stack of cut meat with a two-pronged fork.  He did it with his left hand, so that his weapon hand would be free.

    
Suddenly he dropped the fork, which a moment later glowed red, singeing the dinner table.  He held his hand and looked at Shela and me.

    
“I don’t like the nick name you gave me,” Shela said.  “And I am aware of no custom that says I can’t make you a pile of ashes, any time I want.”

    
“Your Highness,” Oligarch one said.  “Shall I call the guard?”

    
“We don’t need them,” I said, making a dismissive gesture.  A servant came to my left and offered me mead from a pitcher.  I held up my bowl for her.  I didn’t want it, but if I didn’t take it, none of them could have any.

    
“You seem to crave the wrath of the guild,” Tom Kelgan accused me.  “I assure your Highness, if I am harmed – “

    
“The guild that wants me dead at all costs will want me dead at costs that they had never before imagined?”

    
He looked at me, I looked at him, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

    
“You do not let yourself be intimidated, then, I see,” he said, picking up a different fork to get himself more meat.  He winced as he piled his plate, his left hand still sore from the burn.

    
“We have noticed this of his Highness,” Hectar commented.

    
“Many have,” one of the barons commented drolly.

    
Again, a small laugh.

    
“Shall you be keeping me on,” he continued, “or is this my last meal?”

    
“Will you be bound by a fealty?” I asked.

    
He considered this.  Clearly he expected it. 

    
“There are more ways out of a fealty than out of a room full of doors,” the baron next to him commented.  That drew some looks.  Had to be pretty bold to essentially say, “Stupid” to the new boss.

    
I noted the baron.  Maybe a military commission for him.  The army needed risk takers.

    
“Yet there is honor in taking an oath, regardless,” Tom said.  He looked at me, considering.

    
“I would ask you to be bound to my protection,” he said.  “But I don’t think you’re likely to do it, and I see what it means to offend you.

    
“Yes,” he said, finally.  “You are well aware that I am a spy for the guild.”

    
“How would I think otherwise,” I said.

    
“They
will
take you, your Highness,” he warned me.

    
“Heard that before,” I said. “But, you know, all of the people who’ve said it are dead, and I’m not.”

    
He controlled himself better than I did.  He made me wish I
was
a bounty hunter right then.  You just had to like the way he handled himself so easily.

    
“Our second point of affairs, then,” the fourth Oligarch said, “would be affairs with other states.”

    
Several nodded.  A lot of them had questions about how we handled the delegates from Trenbon.  Was this wise?  Well, we weren’t paying reparations.

    
“They demanded reparations, your Highness,” said Hectar, “because they want to sack our ships.”

    
Many at the table nodded.  I grinned and turned to my new general.  “How goes our Theran project?”

    
He smiled, looked at the bounty hunter, then at me.

    
“If he is worth his salt, he already knows of it,” I said.

    
“My salt?” he asked, and looked at a bowl with a small spoon in it.  “Am I to be charged to spice my meal?”

    
I grinned.  “In ancient times,” I said.  “There were nations who had no gold to pay their troops, and paid them instead in rare salt spices.  Hence, worth their salt.”

    
“I have never heard of this,” commented one of the Oligarchs.

    
“It isn’t a well-known fact,” I said.

    
“But a considerable option, if the men would sustain it,” the Duke said.  “It would be much simpler to dole out spice than silver and certainly more economical to the kingdom.”

    
“Something to consider,” a baron said.

    
“Regardless,” Tom said, “I am well aware that you are building your own ships in Thera.  I am aware as well that you seek to enhance them magically, as has Trenbon.

    
“Trenbon has three hundred years more experience than you do,” he added, then took a bite and chewed, adding, “and the best wizards on Fovea,” through his food.

    
I grinned.  “A surprise for them, no less,” I said.

    
He shrugged.

    
“The status of our armed forces,” the third Oligarch continued.

    
“We have the maximum compliment of twenty thousand,” Daharef said, “and your Wolf Soldiers, whom I am told could take them without a sweat.”

    
“Conflu had one army of thirty thousand,” I said, stabbing at a piece of meat.  “The limit of twenty is meaningless if all nations don’t abide by it.”

    
“That is surely why they are so secretive,” the baron who would soon be in my military added.  I looked directly at him.

    
“This is the Baron Jaheff of Andurin,” Oligarch two said.  “He was elevated a year ago, when his Majesty…”

    
“Got drunk and generous,” Jaheff said.  Hectaro barked a laugh, drawing a stern glance from his father. 

    
“Glennen made me an Earl the same way,” I said, nodding to him.  “And for my skill at making money.  What is your skill, Lord Jaheff?”

    
“Being in the right place at the right time, it seems,” he said.  “My father is Duke Groff of Andurin’s brother, a common merchant.  I have no skill at trading this for that, and an older brother who does.  I am as like to hurt myself as another with a sword, and no shoulders to bear armor, I am afraid.”

    
So much for the military aspect, though I couldn’t help feeling that I should find a use for this man.

    
Dinner continued for a while, with more talk like this.  One of the barons, Tenlen, had responsibility for the treasury, and reported that we wouldn’t starve, but we didn’t see much profit, either.  We had barely a city and certainly no village up to date on its taxes.

    
“In honesty, your highness,” he told the room, “the more the cities make, the less they seem to want to pay.

    
“They are conserving their strength, it seems,” Tom said.  “Especially Yerel of Uman City.  He didn’t send a payment at all last month.

    
“What’s the law on that?” I asked Oligarch one, who sat to my left.

    
He considered.  “I can say that he has breached the law,” he said, finally, “but I cannot say that there is a penalty for it.”

    
“His Majesty would usually appear in person and collect,” Oligarch two said.

    
“I would not advise that,” said Oligarch three.  “However the heir actually has no power to demand taxes.”

    
I looked at Tom directly.

    
“How big is his private army?” I asked.