Sinner. Sara Douglass
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and Heavorand, who had quickly stepped aside for the noblemen, shared a glance that was both surprised and knowing.
“Herme? Theod? What brings you here in such haste? I had no warning that you –”
“Forgive us, Zared, but this news cannot wait,” Herme said. More formality should have been employed, but Herme had something to say, and he wished to waste no time. Besides, Zared was an old friend and one-time family member; Isabeau had been Herme’s sister.
To one side Theod fidgeted. He, too, was a close friend of Zared’s, and his higher ranking than Herme should have seen him speak first. But Herme was older and had the longer acquaintance with Zared.
“Sir?” Gustus put in to one side, but no-one listened to him.
“If it’s about Askam’s new taxes, then I have already heard it,” Zared said, gesturing towards Goldman and Heavorand.
Herme and Theod glanced at them, then looked back at Zared.
“My friend,” Herme said, “matters have come to a head. We cannot –”
“Sir?” Gustus said again, but was again ignored.
“– endure under such taxation! Belial must be turning over in his grave! I suggest, and Theod agrees with me, that we must take this matter to Caelum instantly.”
“Sir!” Gustus all but shouted.
“Gustus, what is it?” Zared said shortly. Never had he had open court like this! Were half the merchants and nobles of the West en route to complain to him?
“Sir,” Gustus said, “one of the Lake Guard has this minute landed with a summons from StarSon Caelum.”
Every eye in the reception gallery was riveted on the captain of the guard.
“A summons?” Zared asked quietly.
“Sir Prince, StarSon Caelum summons the heads of the Five to Council, to be held at Sigholt three weeks hence.”
Zared stared at him, then shifted his gaze back to Herme and Theod. “I seem to be holding a dinner party this evening. Would you two gentlemen care to join me?”
Goldman placed his fork and knife across his plate, and decided it was time to direct the conversation to more important matters. So far they’d discussed everything from the weave of Corolean silk to the exceptional salinity of the Widowmaker Sea, and Goldman was tired of the niceties. He smiled at the young, impish Duke Theod across the table. Theod was a rascal, but good-hearted, and once he’d grown five or six more years, and survived a tragedy or two, he would become as fine a Duke as his grandfather, Roland, whom Goldman remembered well from his youth.
“You must have ridden hard to reach Severin from Aldeni, Duke Theod, as must,” Goldman glanced at Herme, “your companion … who had to come yet further.”
“Herme and I were both at my home estates, Goldman. We share a common interest in the management of the Western Ranges.”
Goldman nodded to himself; Theod’s home estates were close to his northern border with Zared. No wonder they’d managed to get here so quickly. “And no doubt you were both as horrified as Heavorand and myself to hear of Askam’s new taxes.”
“No doubt,” Herme said carefully. He was not quite sure of Goldman, nor of the motives which saw him at Zared’s court.
“Enough,” Zared said, throwing his napkin on the table and leaning back in his chair. “Goldman, you came north to say something. Say it.”
“Sir Prince, as you know, Prince Askam’s taxation measures will place an unfair burden on many Tencendorians, rich as well as poor, traders as well as peasants.”
Goldman paused and looked about the room, pretending to gather his thoughts.
“Yet if Askam’s taxation measures affect poor and wealthy, peasant and noble alike,” he continued, “these taxes do differentiate between types of people.”
The entire table stilled. Heavorand, who knew what was coming, looked hard at the napkin in his lap. But the other three men’s eyes were riveted on Goldman’s face.
“Continue, good Master Goldman,” Zared said.
“Sir Prince, Askam’s measures affect those people living in the West and North, not those living in the rest of Tencendor.”
“And your point is …?”
Goldman took a deep breath. “Sir Prince, the Icarii and Avar do not feel the strain of Askam’s petty taxation, yet the Acharites –”
“Be careful with your phraseology,” Zared said quietly.
“– yet the human population of the West and the North, good Prince, are direly affected by it. Sir Prince, there are many among the Achar – ah, the western and northern populations of Tencendor – who stoutly believe that Askam’s taxations are unfair in that they discriminate against one race out of three.”
“The Ravensbundmen are affected by it as well,” Herme put in carefully.
“Sir Duke, the Ravensbund only trade with the people of the North. They care not if Askam starts demanding a life per cargo of goods transported through the West.”
Zared steepled his fingers before his face and pretended an interest in them. “And so your request is …?”
“That you raise the issue with StarSon Caelum at the Council of Five, Sir Prince. StarSon is the only one with the authority to rebuke Askam. To force him to rescind the tax.”
That had not been the original request that Goldman and Heavorand had come north with. Their plans had been hastily revised with the news of the Council of Five. But they were not dismayed. Far from it. StarSon Caelum had played right into their hands.
“The tax is the very reason Caelum has called the Council, and Caelum is a reasonable man,” Zared said. “I am sure he will listen to what I have to say. So your lengthy trip north was needless, Goldman. I have ever intended to raise this issue.”
“Zared,” Herme began, “I will not rest until I know that Caelum has clearly understood what hardship this tax will impose –”
“Do you doubt my ability to state the case, Herme?”
“Not at all, my friend. But I think it important that Caelum listens to someone from Askam’s own province, as well as your objections. If only you speak against it, well …”
All knew what he meant. The history of conflict between Askam and Zared was well known.
Zared opened his mouth to speak, but was forestalled by Goldman.
“Sir Prince, Earl Herme speaks wisely. Caelum needs to hear from the peoples of the West, as much as from you. I suggest that Heavorand and myself will be as suitable witnesses as the Duke and Earl.”
“Are you saying that I should take you all with me to Sigholt?”
Zared’s four guests looked at him steadily. “Ah!” he said, giving in. “Very well. Your support will be useful.”
“There is one other associated issue, Sir Prince.” Goldman’s voice was tense, and Zared looked at him sharply.
“Out with it, then.” He waved his servants forward to clean away the plates.
Goldman waited until the men had gone. “Sir Prince, many among the human race of Tencendor, the Acharites, my Lord Zared, for I am not afraid to use the term, feel that Askam’s taxes are not only unfair, but illegal.”
“And why is that, Goldman?”
“The talk of the taverns and the streets of Carlon argues that Askam is not the legal overlord of the West, Sir Prince.” Goldman paused, gathered his courage and spoke his treason. “Most Acharites believe that you are.”