The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (26 page)

Tomar took a wax tablet and a bone stylus out of his leather bag. When he was ready, Anaxantis dictated him a list of names.

“See to it that they all get this, eh, invitation.”

“That's quite a lot of witnesses,”
Tomar thought.
“Yet it seems as if he is doing this against his better judgment. No, it is as if he wished he wouldn't have to do this, yet somehow feels compelled to go through with it. No, that's not it either. I can't put my finger on it.”

“On a totally different subject, have you any experience or insight in the finances of the army and the tax revenues of the city of Dermolhea?” Anaxantis asked.

“There should be copies of reports of both in the archives, though neither fall under the direct jurisdiction of the lord governor.”

“Could you give me an estimate of what the army costs on a yearly basis?”

“Not to the last sarth, not even to a few thousand rioghals, but a rough estimate should be fairly easy to calculate.”

“And the yearly tax revenues of Dermolhea of, say, twelve years ago?”

“That should be even easier and a lot more accurate. If I remember correctly, we should have a copy of the report of the tax collectors to the Royal Treasury. There will be nothing to calculate. The totals should be there.”

“Good. You will be officiating as the notary at the renunciation this evening. Come half an hour early and bring me those figures, please.”

The High King sank back in his easy chair by the fire. He had just finished reading the last report his friend Dem had sent him and mulled over its content.

“Whatever is happening at the northern border? First, like I expected, Ehandar takes over complete control, then he relinquishes it again, and now he seems to have himself let be demoted to a factotum for his little brother. If Dem is to be believed he does nothing more than occupy himself with the day to day drudgery of the Northern Marches. Meanwhile little Anaxantis is frantically building his own fighting unit. He keeps his own counsel and ignores Dem to the point of not even consulting him anymore.”

The High King rose and went over to a nearby table to pour himself a cup of spiced wine. Returning to the fireplace he smiled.

“Well, I suppose I should be proud of the little guy. Although it is a little worrying that I still haven't got a man in place in his inner circle. I can only guess what his next move will be. It appears he will try to resist the Mukthars, but by now he must see that his forces are inadequate. The only resource he hasn't tried yet is the duchy of Landemere. Ha, I'd like to see him try to wring something more than some alms out of old Athildis. He'll be lucky if he gets a few copper sarths for his trouble. And then, my dear son, you have played your last card...”

He drank deep from his cup.

“Maybe I shouldn't be so hasty. After all he is not only a Tanahkos. That vitriol that passes for blood of his mother runs also through his veins. The Gods alone know what that infernal witch has passed on to her son. By Zardok, that woman can hate. With an all devouring, unflinching passion. At least I'm rid of her. A pity she escaped, but on the other hand, she's powerless in Soranza and even farther away from the center of government. Let her plot and rot, for all I care.

“So, Anaxantis seems to determine what's happening in the North. What was that motto again he chose? Something wimpy... Ah, yes. Maktra Va Derimar. Loyalty Binds Me. Is that how you oblige people to yourself? A clever trick. It seems to have worked on his older brother at least. There is no doubt in my mind that there will come a time that Ehandar will rue the day he put his trust in Emelasuntha's brood.

“All in all it's safe to say that Ehandar is no longer in the running for the Devil's Crown. Anaxantis on the other hand has proven that he is good with people. For better and for worse. He may even prove to be a leader. But has he what it takes to be a ruler? Is he a statesman? We'll know soon enough. He must at least begin to suspect what is in the best interest of the realm by now.”

He stood up to refill his cup.

“And if not,”
he thought smiling to himself,
“there is always Dem and the secret charter to prevent him from doing damage. It takes just one order from me. In that case he will at least have learned that to rule is to foresee.”

“Is everything ready?” Anaxantis asked.

Hemarchidas nodded.

“They're installing the anvil as we speak, and the notary has just arrived. You wanted to see him?”

“Yes, send him in please.”

Hemarchidas left the war room and Tomar entered.

“The documents are prepared, my lord, and I have the calculations you asked for. But something occurred to me. You do realize that your brother did most of the administrative tasks that go with the governorship?”

“I knew that, of course, I just hadn't realized that now I would have to do them. That's what you mean, isn't it?”

“Exactly. It is not my department, nor my responsibility, so I kept quiet, but the fact is that they are a lazy bunch and made him do the work they should have done.”

“How so?”

“They just gave him the parchments in the order they came in, without preparing them.”

“Preparing them?”

“Yes, they should not only have opened them, but they should have ordered them according to subject and made a summary of each. That way your brother, or you from now on, would only have to read the summary and the most important pieces. What takes about three hours each day could be handled in about twenty, thirty minutes. If you wish...”

Anaxantis looked utterly astounded at Tomar. He suddenly realized how dependent a lord governor was on his administration. They could bury important stuff in mountains of trivial documents. A good and dependable administration, on the other hand, could make his work not only much lighter, but also more efficient and effective.

“I see,” he said pensively. “I think you and I ought to have a long talk. I would like to hear more about your ideas. I also want to know more about how you came to be stationed here, at the end of the world, instead of running your own department in the Royal Administration. Tomorrow around noon? You know the place by now.”

“Smart boy. He recognizes talent when he sees it,”
Tomar thought.
“That alone gives him an edge. This could be mutually beneficial. My floundering career could get a second breath, and I know so many ins and outs in the legal system and the administration that I can be invaluable to him. I'll make sure he doesn't regret it, and for the rest I can but hope that it isn't true what they say about the gratitude of princes.”

“Of course, my lord. I'll be there.”

He lay a piece of parchment on the table.

“This is a comparison between the cost of keeping the army in the field for a year and what the revenues of the taxes would have been for seven years, beginning 1440. There is a third number. That is what the Royal Treasury has contributed to the reconstruction of the city after the sack.”

For the second time Anaxantis look surprised at him.

“I didn't ask for that last figure.”

“No, but it is what you wanted, isn't it? I just took the liberty of... completing your instructions.”

“By the Gods, I hope I have guessed right.”

“It is exactly what I need. But how did you know?”

Tomar shrugged.

“It is the duty of a good assistant to know such things. It wasn't too difficult to guess that you wanted to compare costs in two scenarios.”

“Summarize your conclusions. I hope you don't mind me throwing your own words back at you.” Anaxantis smiled. “Didn't you say I should make my administration make summaries?”

Tomar permitted himself to grin briefly.

“Indeed, I did. Roughly speaking, keeping the army in the field for a year costs about three times as much as the net revenues in taxes for seven years of Dermolhea, plus the total amount of the reconstruction aid.”

“Ha. The army was kept in the field for only eight months. And there are other factors—”

“Anaxantis, it is time,” Hemarchidas interrupted, entering the room.

“We'll finish this tomorrow, master Parmingh. Now we have another task waiting for us.”

It was in deep thought that Anaxantis left the war room on his way to the great hall.

The moment he entered the great hall through a side door, Ehandar knew he was about to make what could very well be the biggest mistake of his whole life until now. He had expected Anaxantis, a notary and two witnesses. He had hoped to put his seal quickly on a few documents and be done with it in about five minutes. In the hall were at least thirty men. Anaxantis sat at the great table with on his left side Hemarchidas. The commander was there and all the generals. Farther down the hall, standing, were the members of their staff and some captains. At the main doors stood Anaxantis's guards. His own were nowhere to be seen. There also wasn't a chair left at the table for him to sit down, but at the right side of where his brother sat, a place was kept open for him to stand. Before him on the table lay the documents.

Anaxantis looked at him as if to say ‘Are you ready?’ He nodded almost imperceptibly. He kept his face impassive as the notary began to read the document in which he declared to renounce his name, birth and lineage. He didn't hear the individual words through the rustling noises in his head, except for some shards of sentences. “I understand that I am not worthy to carry the name of the royal House of Tanahkos” ... “in the knowledge that I never will be able to fulfill the duties that my name and birth impose upon me” ... “I therefore commend and entrust myself in the protection and care of his royal highness, prince Anaxantis”.

“Was this really necessary, little brother?”
he thought not without some bitterness.
“Displaying me before all these men like this? The humiliating public reading of the motivation?”

Finally the document was read ,and the notary invited him to put his seal on them. He removed his seal ring from his finger and pressed it in the wax that the clerk dripped on the parchments. There seemed to be several copies. In a haze he just did what was asked from him.

During all this he noticed that at the back of the hall, one of Anaxantis's guards quietly left. Some of the captains were openly smirking at the scene they were witnessing. Others were more subdued, but it was clear they didn't disagree with the proceedings. Only a few were surprised. One was even sorry, judging by his expression, and Ehandar felt grateful for that one friendly face in the crowd. It was almost the same with the higher officers who were seated at the table. A few seemed to despise him and let it show, something they wouldn't have dared only minutes ago.

After he had pressed his seal in the last blob of wax, he wanted to put his ring back on his finger.

“Hey, you. Not so fast. Give me that ring,” a young man, a friend of Anaxantis, said.

It was as if someone had slapped him in the face with a wet towel. Nobody had ever dared call him ‘Hey, you’. He wanted to lash out at the impertinent man, but remembered in time, that he couldn't. With a face as if made of stone he handed the ring over.