The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1) (63 page)

He stepped closer and, put his arm around his brother so that he could repeat his question.

“Hmm? Oh, thank you, Thayliss,” said the prince, “but I believe I’ll stick to my sword. Besides, so long as I do not stray too far from you, I hardly have reason to fear anything.”

“Aye, in truth, you have little need of me. I’ve seen you at swordplay and you’re very good. I would manage nothing more than cutting off my own fingers if I tried to handle a sword,” said Gully. “The Lord Marshal over there is an expert swordsman, but I never let him teach me any of his sword skills over the years.”

Thaybrill nodded weakly as he stared over at Roald again.

Gully shielded his eyes in the bright sunlight and saw a crowd crossing the front bailey towards them from a different direction. It didn’t surprise him, and he was expecting this sooner or later after the conversation he had had with the royal treasurer earlier. He took a deep breath and squared himself for the unhappy confrontation he expected to arrive with the crowd. He asked Wyael to hand him his throwing knife back to him. It would be good to have it in his hand so he could leverage the slight intimidation it would provide.

He didn’t bother to count, but it looked like most of the noble lords of Iisen coming towards him, led by Ionor veKinn wearing a cream-colored cape on his shoulders that blew in the breeze. With Chelders Basstrolle eliminated, the noble family of veKinn was now the most senior after that of veLohrdan.

Everyone stopped as the noblesirs arrived, and Gully watched very carefully. As he expected, there was the tiniest glance between Ionor and Strafe veWarrnest before Ionor began to speak. Gully already knew who was really speaking, even if it was Ionor veKinn saying the words.

“Your Highness,” said veKinn with a respectful dip of his head, “we beg a moment to speak with you about some news that has reached us and which greatly concerns us.”

“By all means,” said Gully, “I put myself at your convenience, then.”

“Well, then...” veKinn looked uneasily at the others gathered near the king and seemed to have second thoughts. “Perhaps it would be best to not discuss this in front of others.”

Gully looked at the people around him. He already knew what they were there to discuss, but he feigned ignorance. “Oh, perhaps you could give me an idea what you wish to discuss since I’m in the middle of a knife throwing lesson.” He flipped the knife up in the air a few times as he said this, catching it by the handle each time without even looking at it.

veKinn frowned, hesitated, then said, “It seems Your Highness has chosen to make a change to the code of taxation without consulting on the matter with us first.”

“Well, that will be public knowledge soon enough. There’s no need to discuss this privately, I daresay,” said Gully.

“Such matters are usually discussed among
all
of the noble families of Iisen prior to making a decision. Finding out that you have reduced taxation by a full third across the land has put all of us in something of a bind, Your Highness. If we follow the accepted way of this, we would discuss this together, using our collected experience and intelligence to fully explore the ramifications, both positive and negative, before proceeding.”

Gully had thought some on how to address what would obviously be an unpopular decision among the noble families of Iisen. He had thought through how to pin his decision on veWarrnest, turning the families against him. He had a good way of doing that, too.

But as he considered for a moment, he made a decision to not play their game by their rules. Or rather, by veWarrnest’s rules. He decided that it was time to bare himself honestly to the noble families and to see how they responded. Instead, he handed his knife back to Wyael, forgoing the tactic of intimidation any further.

“I’m aware of what the custom is. The treasurer spent quite some time this morning explaining how taxation works in the kingdom, and he was quite emphatic about the traditional way of changing it,” said Gully, and he saw a look of relief on veKinn’s face.

“However, I also probed on this matter and found that, while it is customary for the noble families to decide together, it is not actually required, so I chose to make a decision on my own.”

The frown returned to veKinn’s face, one that was echoed by several other noble lords, veWarrnest especially.

It was here that Strennor veAhnderdan, of Tibbolle, the city by the Ouleand Sea, spoke up. “Majesty, this is a terrible time to reduce the income of the kingdom! We have just narrowly escaped an invasion! If anything, we should be increasing taxes and bolstering our defenses!”

“My dear Strennor,” said Gully, “The Sheard Mountains provide almost all the defense we could ever hope to need against Maqara. And as for the one weak point, the Maqaran Pass, we have already fortified it far more heavily than we probably need to. Maqara will not enter Iisen now without our explicit invitation.”

Ionor looked as if he was about to say something, and Gully held up his hand so he could continue. This would be his time to be very honest with them. Everyone was gathered closely now to hear his words — the noblemen, Dunnhem, Wyael, Thaybrill, and all the others present.

“Each of you deserves to know why, the honest reason why, I chose to eliminate a large part of the taxes in this land this morning. Yesterday, I sat in judgment of a man accused of being a thief. He was a thief, in almost all likelihood, but one born out of necessity, while I was a much worse thief than he, for many years, for no better reason than convenience. I could explain why, and I could try to excuse it one way or another or minimize my actions, but the truth is that I did what I did. What I did yesterday, judging that man, has weighed heavily on me. My own crimes have weighed heavily on me. It’s not enough to know my days as a thief are behind me; that would not be justice. I must balance out the scales for what I have done. My problem is that there is no way for me to remember all the specific instances of theft I’ve committed in the past. So the problem becomes to make amends to everyone, even if it means benefitting those that I never wronged a single time. I chose this. By reducing taxes, I am sure I make reparations to all I have wronged in the past. I believe that there are other benefits to this approach as well, but the key is that it allows me to clear my conscience. I can now serve Iisen the way it deserves.”

Gully took a deep breath. “Thank you, Strafe,” he said, very sincerely, “for providing me with my moment of self-reflection yesterday.” He meant the words deeply and sincerely, but realized he was digging his fingernails into veWarrnest’s back some after all.

He watched the lords closely. Several of them were having a hard time meeting his gaze now — veKinn chiefly.

“Highness, we are all deeply moved by your extraordinarily generous gesture to apply justice to yourself in equal measure to how you would apply it to anyone. But, surely there is a better way to accomplish this!” said veAhnderdan.

“There is not, Strennor,” said Gully. “My conversation with the treasurer was very illuminating. Even the reduced income from the lower taxes will still more than adequately cover the expenses of the kingdom, plus a modest amount to save away for crises that may one day arrive. This is on top of a rather considerable amount of wealth sitting idle in the royal treasury as it is. I think that we can safely do without accumulating this extra bit of wealth when all we do is sit upon it. It will do more good for the kingdom if it is out in circulation,” explained Gully.

veWarrnest could no longer leave well enough alone and stay in the background. He stepped forward and said loudly, “Bah! You put money back in the pockets of peasants! The rabble will just squander the coins you force us to give back to them!”

The man infuriated Gully, and he could not hold back his indignation that had steeped and fermented for men like him for years. Gully almost shouted, “Oh, that certainly would be a crime, wouldn’t it? For the ‘rabble’ to ‘squander’ their own hard-earned money instead of
you
taking it in taxes and squandering it for them!” Gully forced himself to calm down some, but there was still an edge to his words. “I have reduced taxes to a reasonable level, Strafe, not eliminated them. And if you now take in less taxes in each of your respective fiefs, do not forget that I, in turn, am collecting less in taxes from you as well, mitigating your loss. But if I can make do with the reduced income, then you shall as well!”

There was an icy silence throughout the crowd for a very long pause.

veWarrnest finally said, “Which is Your Highness’ way of saying that
we
all must bear the punishment for
your
crimes!”

Gully frowned and then clenched his teeth painfully. Before anything more could be said, he turned and stalked off in a mood as black as a stormy day in the depth of a moongloam.

Gully leaned forward, laid his arms across the stone of the parapet wall and rested his chin on his forearms. The rough material of the lightweight surcoat he was wearing, one from his days of thieving, scratched at his chin, but he took the feeling more as a comfort. It was simple and familiar, things that seemed like distant memories now. The material and clothing was a small reminder of a life that had been stolen from him, replaced by one far more complicated.

A soft noise behind him darkened his already foul mood and he looked back over his shoulder to see Gallun and Gellen emerging out onto the top of the oratory tower with him, both looking like they were already on tenterhooks.

Gully frowned and called at them, “Am I so helpless that I must be guarded even here?! Why even let me out of bed each day?”

The two men, wearing their kilts and light blue tunics, glanced warily at one another.

Gully shouted at them, “Go away! I want to be alone and that means you along with everyone else!”

His two friends looked hurt, but turned to take their leave from the tower.

Gully buried his face back in his arms, closed his eyes, and said, “Just leave me be,” to no one in particular.

He had wanted to climb up the side of the mountain to be alone, to be where everything seemed much smaller and insignificant, only to be stopped by Gellen right when he was about to sneak away. That was why he was wearing his dull-colored thief’s clothes, the ones that would blend in with the rocks and ground of the mountainside.

There was a small ledge where the back side of the Courtyard of the Empyrean, the Folly’s oratory tower, and the face of the mountain came together that he had used before to get behind the tower and begin his climb. This time, though, Gellen was onto his tactic and would not let him get away. Gellen had pointed at the spot where the ledge narrowed dangerously along the deep chasm there and someone would have to jump to get to the far side where the ledge widened once again. It was not a bad jump, and Gully had made it easily on his previous climb, but Gellen was having none of it.

Gallun arrived with a harried Roald in tow a moment later. Roald began to lecture him how he could not take these sorts of frivolous chances, but Gully had not been in the best mind to see anyone’s point of view after the argument with the noble lords out on the practice field earlier in the day. He had snorted at Roald and accused him of not even knowing him anymore. He told Roald that he was perfectly capable of these minor leaps and climbs, and that Roald, of all people, should be very well aware of this.

Roald had replied to him that he wasn’t that person any longer, he was King Thayliss, and that if anything were to happen to him, it would have consequences far beyond just him. Roald had added “and... others... that care for you” with a tone of voice that stabbed into Gully and made the whole thing worse for him. Roald had reminded Gully that it was he who had made him Lord Marshal, and that a large part of the title was to protect the king, which was exactly what he was attempting to do.

In the end, Gully gave in to Roald’s request and sullenly agreed to compromise by going to the top of the tower instead of up the mountainside for his time to think and be alone.

Now, having turned Gallun and Gellen away, Gully looked out over all of Lohrdanwuld and began to stew himself in peace once more.

One of the things that irked him was how Gellen, while trying to convince him not to climb up the mountain, had pointed at the pendant under his tunic. Gully felt worse at the thought that no one seemed to care any longer about the person he was. All that mattered was the bloodline, or bloodlines, he represented.

He sat heavily on one of the benches nearby that looked over the Folly below and the city beyond. He looked down into the ravine next to the courtyard below and felt a fresh sting as the memory of Mariealle came into his mind, reliving yet again her hand slipping from his as she fell. He wished so much that she was there with him.

All of these people and memories, Mariealle, the noble lords, Roald, and more swirled in his head as he felt very bruised for having become someone he was not.

Not very much later, while he stared off into the distance, the breeze of the late afternoon shifted direction some. A faint smell, something not there before, but one that should not have been there, reached his nose.

Gully spun in his seat, and the breath hissed out of him at what he saw before he had a chance to stop it.

Before him, stepping carefully out of the shadows of the turret that covered the steps down into the tower, was Krayell Delavoor. He looked emaciated, and his hair was wild and disheveled, but his eyes were the most frightening. They were wide and red, with an insane fury and madness beyond anything Gully had ever seen. Gully, so surprised by what he saw, froze in place and gripped the arm of the bench so tightly he felt like he would snap it off.

Krayell stepped slowly towards Gully, as if he somehow believed he was still approaching him unaware, even though their eyes were locked together. In his hand, Krayell had a long and very sharp looking dagger.

Krayell stopped while still on the other side of the tower, the breeze catching and whipping his wild hair.