“Someone is sinking the king’s ships,” Sarene said. “Common sense confirms what my father’s spies say. Dreok Crushthroat’s fleets couldn’t be sinking the boats—most of Dreok’s ships were destroyed fifteen years ago when he tried to take the throne of Teod, and any remnants have long since disappeared. Wyrn must be behind the sinkings.”
“All right, we accept that much,” Ahan said.
“Fjorden is also giving financial support to Duke Telrii,” Sarene continued.
“You don’t have any proof of that, Your Highness,” Eondel pointed out.
“No, I don’t,” Sarene admitted, pacing between the men’s chairs, the ground soft with new spring grass. They had eventually decided to hold this meeting in the gardens of Kae’s Korathi chapel, and so there was no table for her to circle. Sarene had managed to remain seated during the first part of the meeting, but had eventually stood. She found it easier to address others when she was on her feet—something of a nervous habit, she realized, but she also knew that her height lent her an air of authority.
“I do, however, have logical conjecture,” she said. Eondel would respond well to anything following the word “logical.” “We all attended Telrii’s party a week ago. He must have spent more on that ball than most men make in a year.”
“Extravagance isn’t always a sign of wealth,” Shuden pointed out. “I’ve seen men poor as a peasant put on dazzling shows to maintain an illusion of security in the face of collapse.” Shuden’s words rang true—a man at their own meeting, Baron Edan, was doing just what Shuden described.
Sarene frowned. “I’ve done some checking around—I had a lot of free time this last week, since none of you managed to get this meeting together, despite its urgency.” None of the noblemen would meet her eyes after that comment. She’d finally gotten them together. But, unfortunately, Kiin and Lukel hadn’t been able to attend because of a prior engagement. “Anyway, rumors say that Telrii’s accounts have swelled drastically during the last two weeks, and his shipments to Fjorden turn fantastic profits no matter what he chooses to send, whether it be fine spices or cow dung.”
“The fact remains that the duke has not aligned himself with Shu-Dereth,” Eondel pointed out. “He still attends his Korathi meetings piously.”
Sarene folded her arms, tapping her cheek in thought. “If Telrii openly aligned himself with Fjorden, his earnings would be suspicious. Hrathen is far too crafty to be so transparent. It would be much smarter for Fjorden to remain separate from the duke, allowing Telrii to appear a pious conservative. Despite Hrathen’s recent advances, it would be much easier for a traditional Korathi to usurp the throne than it would be for a Derethi.”
“He’ll take the throne,
then
make good on his pact with Wyrn,” Roial agreed.
“Which is why we have to make sure Iadon starts earning money again very soon,” Sarene said. “The nation is running dry—it is very possible that Telrii will earn more in this next accounting period than Iadon, even including taxes. I doubt the king would abdicate. However, if Telrii were to stage a coup, the other nobles might go along with him.”
“How do you like that, Edan?” Ahan asked, directing a hearty laugh at the anxious baron. “You might not be the only one who loses his title in a few months—old Iadon himself might join you.”
“If you please, Count Ahan,” Sarene said. “It’s our duty to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What do you want us to do?” Edan asked nervously. “Send gifts to the king? I don’t have any money to spare.”
“None of us do, Edan,” Ahan responded, hands resting on his ample belly. “If it were ‘spare’ it wouldn’t be valuable now, would it?”
“You know what he means, Ahan,” Roial chided. “And I doubt gifts are what the princess had in mind.”
“Actually, I’m open for suggestions, gentlemen,” Sarene said, spreading out her hands. “I’m a politician, not a merchant. I’m a confessed amateur at making money.”
“Gifts wouldn’t work,” Shuden said, hands laced before his chin contemplatively. “The king is a proud man who has earned his fortune through sweat, work, and scheming. He would never take handouts, even to save his throne. Besides, merchants are notoriously suspicious of gifts.”
“We could go to him with the truth,” Sarene suggested. “Maybe then he’d accept our help.”
“He wouldn’t believe us,” Roial said with a shake of his aged head. “The king is a very literal man, Sarene—even more so than our dear Lord Eondel. Generals have to think abstractly to outguess their opponents, but Iadon—I seriously doubt he’s had an abstract thought in his life. The king accepts things as they appear to be, especially if they are the way he thinks they should be.”
“Which is why Lady Sarene fooled His Majesty with her apparent lack of wits,” Shuden agreed. “He expected her to be foolish, and when she appeared to fit his expectations he dismissed her—even if her act was terribly overdone.”
Sarene chose not to rebut that remark.
“Pirates are something Iadon understands,” Roial said. “They make sense in the world of shipping—in a way, every merchant considers himself a pirate. However, governments are different. In the king’s eyes, it wouldn’t make sense for a kingdom to sink ships filled with valuable merchandise. The king would never attack merchants, no matter how tense the war. And as far as he knows, Arelon and Fjorden are good friends. He was the first one to let Derethi priests into Kae, and he has given that gyorn Hrathen every liberty of a visiting nobleman. I seriously doubt we could convince him that Wyrn is trying to depose him.”
“We could try framing Fjorden,” Eondel suggested. “Making it obvious that the sinkings are Wyrn’s work.”
“It would take too long, Eondel,” Ahan said, shaking his jowls. “Besides, Iadon doesn’t have many ships left—I doubt he’ll risk them in those same waters again.”
Sarene nodded. “It would also be very difficult for us to establish a connection to Wyrn. He’s probably using Svordish warships for the task—Fjorden itself doesn’t have much of a navy.”
“Was Dreok Crushthroat Svordish?” Eondel asked with a frown.
“I heard he was Fjordell,” Ahan said.
“No,” Roial said. “I think he was supposed to be Aonic, wasn’t he?”
“Anyway,” Sarene said impatiently, trying to keep the meeting on track as she paced across the loamy garden floor. “Lord Ahan said he wouldn’t risk his ships in those waters again, but the king obviously has to keep them shipping somewhere.”
Ahan nodded in agreement. “He can’t afford to stop now—spring is one of the best buying seasons. People have been cooped up all winter with drab colors and drabber relatives. As soon as the snows melt, they’re ready to splurge a little. This is the time when expensive colored silks go for a premium, and that is one of Iadon’s best products.
“These sinkings are a disaster. Not only did Iadon lose the ships themselves, he lost the profit he would have made off all those silks, not to mention the other cargo. Many merchants nearly bankrupt themselves this time of year by stockpiling goods that they know they can eventually sell.”
“His Majesty got greedy,” Shuden said. “He bought more and more ships, and filled them with as much silk as he could afford.”
“We’re all greedy, Shuden,” Ahan said. “Don’t forget, your family earned its fortune by organizing the spice route from Jindo. You didn’t even ship anything—you just built the roads and charged the merchants to use them.”
“Let me rephrase, Lord Ahan,” Shuden said. “The king let his greed make him foolish. Disasters are something every good merchant should plan for. Never ship what you can’t afford to lose.”
“Well put,” Ahan agreed.
“Anyway,” Sarene said, “if the king only has a couple of ships left, then they have to deliver a solid profit.”
“‘Solid’ isn’t the right word, my dear,” Ahan said. “Try ‘extraordinary.’ It is going to take a miracle for Iadon to recoup from this little catastrophe—especially before Telrii humiliates him irreparably.”
“What if he had an agreement with Teod?” Sarene asked. “An extremely lucrative contract for silks?”
“Maybe,” Ahan said with a shrug. “It’s clever.”
“But impossible,” Duke Roial said.
“Why?” Sarene demanded. “Teod can afford it.”
“Because,” the duke explained, “Iadon would never accept such a contract. He’s too experienced a merchant to make a deal that appears too fabulous to be realistic.”
“Agreed,” Shuden said with a nod. “The king wouldn’t be against making a horrible profit off of Teod, but only if he thought he was cheating you.”
The others nodded at Shuden’s statement. Although the Jindoeese man was the youngest in the group, Shuden was quickly proving himself to be as shrewd as Roial—perhaps more so. That capability, mixed with his deserved reputation for
honesty, earned him respect beyond his years. It was a powerful man indeed who could mix integrity with savvy.
“We’ll have to think on this some more,” Roial said. “But not too long. We must solve the problem by the accounting day, otherwise we’ll be dealing with Telrii instead of Iadon. As bad as my old friend is, I know we’d have less luck with Telrii—especially if Fjorden is backing him.”
“Is everyone doing as I asked with their planting?” Sarene asked as the nobles prepared to leave.
“It wasn’t easy,” Ahan admitted. “My overseers and minor nobles all objected to the idea.”
“But you did it.”
“I did,” Ahan said.
“As did I,” Roial said.
“I had no choice,” Edan muttered.
Shuden and Eondel each gave her quiet nods.
“We started planting last week,” Edan said. “How long before we see results?”
“Hopefully within the next three months, for your sake, my lord,” Sarene said.
“That is usually long enough to get an estimate of how good a crop will do,” Shuden said.
“I still don’t see how it matters whether the people think they’re free or not,” Ahan said. “The same seeds get planted, and so the same crop should come up.”
“You’ll be surprised, my lord,” Sarene promised.
“May we go now?” Edan asked pointedly. He still chafed at the idea of Sarene running these meetings.
“One more question, my lords. I’ve been considering my Widow’s Trial, and would like to hear what you think.”
The men began to shift uncomfortably at the statement, looking at each other uneasily.
“Oh, come now,” Sarene said with a displeased frown, “you’re grown men. Get over your childish fear of Elantris.”
“It is a very delicate topic in Arelon, Sarene,” Shuden said.
“Well, it appears that Hrathen isn’t worried about that,” she said. “You all know what he’s begun to do.”
“He’s drawing a parallel between Shu-Korath and Elantris,” Roial said with a nod. “He’s trying to turn the people against the Korathi priests.”
“And he’s going to be successful if we don’t stop him,” Sarene said, “which requires you all to get over your squeamishness and stop pretending that Elantris doesn’t exist. The city is a major part of the gyorn’s plans.”
The men shot each other knowing looks in the dense Korathi garden. The men thought she paid undue attention to the gyorn; they saw Iadon’s government
as a major problem, but religion didn’t seem a tangible threat. They didn’t understand that in Fjorden, at least, religion and war were almost the same thing.
“You’re just going to have to trust me, my lords,” Sarene said. “Hrathen’s schemes are important. You said the king sees things concretely—well, this Hrathen is the opposite. He views everything by its potential, and his goal is to make Arelon another Fjordell protectorate. If he is using Elantris against us, we must respond.”
“Just have that short Korathi priest agree with him,” Ahan suggested. “Put them on the same side, then no one can use the city against anyone else.”
“Omin won’t do that, my lord,” Sarene said with a shake of her head. “He bears the Elantrians no ill will, and he would never consent to labeling them devils.”
“Couldn’t he just …” Ahan said.
“Merciful Domi, Ahan,” Roial said. “Don’t you ever attend his sermons? The man would never do that.”
“I go,” Ahan said indignantly. “I just thought he might be willing to serve his kingdom. We could compensate him.”
“No, my lord,” Sarene said insistently. “Omin is a man of the Church—a good and sincere one, at that. To him, truth is not subject to debate—or sale. I’m afraid we have no choice. We have to side with Elantris.”
Several faces, including Eondel and Edan’s, blanched at that statement.
“That might not be an easy proposition to carry out, Sarene,” Roial warned. “You may think us childish, but these four are among the most intelligent and open-minded men in Arelon. If you find them nervous about Elantris, then you will find the rest of Arelon more so.”
“We have to change that sentiment, my lord,” Sarene said. “And my Widow’s Trial is our opportunity. I am going to take food to the Elantrians.”
This time she succeeded in getting a reaction even from Shuden and Roial.
“Did I hear your correctly, my dear?” Ahan asked with a shaky voice. “You’re going to go into Elantris?”
“Yes,” Sarene said.
“I need something to drink,” Ahan decided, unstoppering his wine flask.
“The king will never allow it,” Edan said. “He doesn’t even let the Elantris City Guards go inside.”
“He’s right,” Shuden agreed. “You will never get through those gates, Your Highness.”
“Let me deal with the king,” Sarene said.
“Your subterfuge won’t work this time, Sarene,” Roial warned. “No amount of stupidity will convince the king to let you into the city.”
“I’ll think of something,” Sarene said, trying to sound more certain than she was. “It’s not your concern, my lord. I just want your word that you will help me.”
“Help you?” Ahan asked hesitantly.
“Help me distribute food in Elantris,” Sarene said.
Ahan’s eyes bugged out. “Help you?” he repeated. “In there?”
“My goal is to demystify the city,” Sarene explained. “To do that, I’ll need to convince the nobility to go inside and see for themselves that there’s nothing horrifying about the Elantrians.”
“I’m sorry to sound objectionable,” Eondel began. “But, Lady Sarene, what if there is? What if everything they say about Elantris is true?”