After I walked out of his study, leaving him to think over what I’d said, I laughed, softly and bitterly. Now all I had to do was overhaul the entire economic and political structure of Solidar before Ferrum recovered.
70
Just before eighth glass on Meredi, Maitre Dyana and I stepped from the duty coach and walked through the security entrance into the Council Chateau and up the east circular staircase to the second level and from there to the larger study of the Chief Councilor. All three members of the Executive Council were seated around the circular table. The chairs were arranged so that the three Councilors sat on the south side, with Ramsael in the center, Caartyl on his left, and Sebatyon on his right. Maitre Dyana took the leftmost of the two chairs on the north side, leaving the one to the right to me.
“Greetings, Councilors,” she offered. “I believe you all know Maitre Rhennthyl.”
“How could we not?” asked Ramsael genially. “Greetings.”
Sebatyon and Caartyl merely nodded.
“I trust you’ve all read the communique from Deputy Sea-Marshal Caellynd,” began Maitre Dyana.
“I thought he was acting Sea-Marshal,” said Sebatyon.
I managed not to wince.
“He is acting Sea-Marshal,” Ramsael agreed. “His official title is still Deputy Sea-Marshal. Once the Council votes tomorrow to confirm his position, he will be Sea-Marshal in name as well as fact.”
“A mere formality,” sniffed Sebatyon. “With the Ferrans under control, we won’t need to rush back into those tiresome discussions about new ships for the Navy. We should be able to reduce taxes on goods and return to more prosperous times.”
Ramsael glanced to Caartyl.
The guild Councilor cleared his throat. “There are other priorities to consider, Councilor.”
“Such as what? I can’t imagine anything more important than enhancing Solidaran prosperity. Why tax ourselves for ships that are now unnecessary?”
I glanced at Maitre Dyana. She continued to smile pleasantly.
Ramsael frowned, but appeared disinclined to speak.
So I did. “Councilors, I hate to be contrary, but if what Councilor Sebatyon is saying represents the view of the Council, what we’ve just endured will be nothing compared to what happens in twenty years.”
“Why, Maitre Rhennthyl? Ferrum will not be a danger for years, it would appear from Marshal Asarynt’s communique.” Sebatyon’s smile was ingratiatingly unpleasant.
I smiled as cold a smile as I could. “Perhaps I should put it in another way. We leveled more than half the cities in Ferrum. We may have killed millions. We destroyed most of their industry. Thousands more, perhaps tens of thousands, will die of lack of shelter and the inability to get or pay for food. What will motivate the Ferran people for a generation or more to come? They weren’t our friends to begin with. Do you think they’ve forgotten how to build good ships and weapons? Or to rebuild their manufactories? Their farmland is still untouched, as are their mines. As are manufactories away from the coast. What will happen to your children when our fleets are falling apart twenty years from now and the brand-new Ferran fleet masses for revenge? Or do you plan to spend millions of golds to raise an army we don’t have to occupy Ferrum so that doesn’t happen? Do you propose we continue the same taxing and licensing restrictions on new machinery that hamstrung us so much that Councilor Glendyl mortgaged his entire future in an attempt to avoid what he saw was coming? Do you think it was an accident that both Suyrien the Elder and Glendyl were targeted for assassination by the Ferrans?”
“Maitre Rhennthyl,” said Sebatyon pleasantly, “I would that you would spare us the lectures.”
I looked at him, and projected pure power at him, as well as anger, literally pinning him in his seat. “Councilor…do not patronize me…or the Collegium. We sacrificed close to a third of our most promising young imagers to stave off the Ferran threat. We lost our two most senior imagers to a bombardment. You sacrificed nothing. Neither did most High Holders. You are both interested in merely gilding your profits, rather than investing in the future. You will not do so on the bodies of dead imagers, dead sailors, and Solidarans who died from Ferran explosions, Stakanaran elveweed, and treachery. You will devote yourselves to reforming the tax structure, modernizing the fleet, and reforming the licensing laws so that an inventor of new processes must license them to others, for a fair royalty, after a brief period of exclusivity.”
I turned to Ramsael. “You are a fair man, Chief Councilor. I trust I will not have to remind you that the needs of all Solidar come before the need for excess profits.” I inclined my head politely. “I am not a politician, and I am less than skilled in reasonable and gentle language. I lack the diplomacy of Maitre Poincaryt, or the patience and experience of Maitre Dyana. I would that I had her measured iron determination, but I think it best that I leave now that you have heard what I have to say. That does not mean I will not follow what you do, nor does it mean that I will not hold you personally accountable. For I will.”
Then I left, and walked downstairs to wait outside Baratyn’s study.
He immediately came out. “I thought you were with Maitre Dyana.”
“I was, but then Sebatyon started in with some nonsense about not needing new ships and returning to the old ways. I expressed my views on his idiocy, suggested that the time was overdue for change, and that I‘d hold them all accountable…personally. Then I departed and left Maitre Dyana to be politely unyielding.”
“You didn’t make things easy for her.” Baratyn shook his head.
Actually, I thought I had. I’d let them know that they really had no choices, and now they could work out how to do what needed to be done with Maitre Dyana. “With Sebatyon’s views, what else could I do?”
“Sebatyon wasn’t a good choice. They all knew that, but none of the others would spend the time, not when their factorages are so far from L’Excelsis. Sebatyon’s son really runs things. The factor representative on the Executive Council needs to be from L’Excelsis.”
“None of the other factors on the Council are from L’Excelsis, and the factors’ associations haven’t even agreed on a successor to Glendyl yet, have they?”
“That will be weeks away, at best.”
“There’s one other matter,” I offered, since it was my responsibility, and not Maitre Dyana’s. “Dartazn won’t be coming back to the Chateau.”
“I’d thought as much.” Baratyn nodded.
“I will be talking matters over with him to see if any of the imagers who were under him on the operation might have shown potential for security duties.”
“Do you know who’ll be coming back?”
“Not until they return with Dartazn. That’s likely to be several days yet.”
Baratyn and I must have talked for another quint before Dyana came down the circular east staircase. She smiled at Baratyn. “Greetings. You’re looking well, given all the extra work we’ve piled on you.”
“Thank you. Rhenn has said you’ll be looking for someone to replace Dartazn.”
“He will indeed.” She inclined her head politely, then looked to me.
We walked out together, but I didn’t say anything else until we were in the coach on the way back to Imagisle.
“Was there too large an outburst after I left?”