“How many citizens are there?”
“At present, I believe about ten to fifteen percent of the city’s population are citizens.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, Your Eminence. It’s also a drain on the treasury, because only citizens are required to pay taxes. Also, only citizens have the right of a trial in a court, or are required to serve to protect the city walls in the event of attack.”
Modina stared at him.
“Shall I summon the city’s merchant council and organize a meeting in order to review the guild policy, say, tomorrow?” Nimbus asked.
“Please do.” She looked back down at Bernard Green. “Rest assured I will address this matter immediately, and thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
“Bless you, Your Grand Imperial Eminence, bless you.” He bowed once more with his head to the floor.
Modina waved her hand and the master-at-arms escorted him out. “I don’t so much mind the bowing-that’s actually nice. It’s the scraping I can’t stand.”
“You are not just the empress,” Nimbus told her. “You are a demigod. You must expect a little scraping.”
“Who’s next?”
“A fellow by the name of Tope Entwistle, a scout from the north,” he replied.
“A scout? A scout follows the candlemaker?”
“He just has a status report-nothing urgent,” Nimbus told her. “And the candlemaker had been waiting for three days.”
A stocky man entered wearing a heavy wool tunic with a little copper pin in the shape of a torch on his breast. He also sported wool pants wrapped in leather strips. His face was blotchy, his skin a ruddy leather. The tip of his nose was more than red; it was a disturbing shade of purple. His knuckles and the tips of his fingers were a similar color. He walked with an unusual gait, a hobbled limp, as if his feet were sore.
“Your Imperial Eminence.” The man bowed and sniffled. “Sir Marshal Breckton sends word. He reports that there has been no confirmed movement by the elves since the initial crossing. In addition, he sends word that all bridges and roads have been closed. As for the lack of movement on the part of the elven force, it is his estimated opinion that the elves may have gone into winter quarters. He has also sent several quartermaster lists and a detailed report, which I have here in this satchel.”
“You can give those to the clerk,” Nimbus told him.
He slipped the satchel off and sneezed as he held out the bag.
“And how are things in Colnora?”
“Excuse me, Your Highness.” He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. “I’ve been fighting a cold for a month and my head is so clogged I can barely hear.”
“I asked, how are things in Colnora?” she said louder.
“They are fine in Colnora. It’s the road between that gets a tad chilly. Course I can’t complain. I’ve been up on the line in the wilderness and there it is colder than anything. Not even a proper fire allowed, on account of not wanting to give away our positions to the elves.”
“Is there anything you need?”
“Me? Oh, I don’t need much. I already had me a good hot meal and a sit near a hearth. That’s all I need. Course a soft, warm place to sleep awhile before I head back would certainly be appreciated.”
Modina looked at Nimbus.
“I will inform the chamberlain,” he told her.
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” the scout said, and bowed again before leaving.
“I never really thought about how it must be out there for them, waiting,” Modina said.
“Next is Abner Gallsworth, the city administrator,” Nimbus said, and a tall, thin man entered. He was the best dressed of the lot that morning, wearing long heavy robes of green and gold draped nearly to the floor. On his head was a tall hat with flaps that drooped down the sides of his head like a hound’s ears. His face was long and narrow, qualities made more noticeable by the sagging of age.
“Your Imperial Eminence.” He bowed, but more shallowly than anyone else so far, and there was no scraping to be seen. “While I am pleased to report that all the provisioning you have commanded has been achieved, and that the city is functioning at high efficiency, I nevertheless regret to tell you that there is a problem. We are becoming overcrowded. Refugees are still arriving from the surrounding towns and villages-even more so since the news of troops sealing the roads and passes has leaked into the countryside.
“We now have several hundred people living on the streets, and with the winter’s cold, I have daily reports coming across my desk of frozen corpses in need of disposal. At present we are carting the bodies outside the walls and piling them in a fallow field to await a spring burial. This solution, however, has attracted wild animals. Packs of wolves have been reported and those still outside the city walls are complaining. I would like to request permission to dispose of the bodies at sea. To do this, I will require access to a barge. As all ships are presently under imperial edict, my request has been repeatedly denied. Hence I am here, appealing to you.”
“I see,” Modina said. “And what provisions have you made to prevent the future deaths of more refugees?”
“Provisions?” he asked.
“Yes, what have you done to stop the peasants from freezing to death?”
“Why… nothing. The peasants are dying because they have no shelter. They have no shelter because they cannot afford any or none can be found. I can neither create money nor construct housing. Therefore, I do not understand your question.”
“You cannot commandeer ships to dispose of bodies either and yet you stand before me requesting that.”
“True, but a barge is an achievable goal. Preventing future peasants from dying is not. The city has been overcrowded for weeks and yet just this morning another large group has arrived from Alburn. There are perhaps fifty families. If a viable solution is what you desire, I suggest preventing any more displaced people from entering the city. Seal it off and be done with it. Let those that come here looking for charity learn that they must provide for themselves. Allowing them entry will only cause a higher rate of mortality.”
“I suspect you are right,” Modina told him. “I also suspect you would feel quite differently if it was you and your family standing on the other side of our locked gate. I am the empress of all the people. It is my responsibility to keep them safe, not the other way around.”
“Then please tell me what you would like me to do, for I can see no solution to this problem. There is simply no place for all these people.”
Modina looked around her, at the painted dome and the great stone hearth burning the new log she had ordered.
“Chancellor?” she said.
“Yes, Your Eminence?” Nimbus replied.
“How many people could we fit in this hall?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then pursed his lips. “Perhaps a hundred if they do not mind squeezing together.”
“I think if faced with freezing to death, they will not mind.”
“You will open the throne room to the public?” Gallsworth asked, stunned. “How will you conduct the business of the empire?”
“This is the business of the empire, and no, I am not going to open the throne room to the public.” She looked at Nimbus. “I am opening the entire palace. I want the gates opened at once. Line the halls, corridors, even the chapel. I want every square inch used. There will not be a single man, woman, or child left in the cold as long as there is any room to spare. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely, Your Eminence.”
“Furthermore,” she said, turning to Gallsworth, “I want a study done of the city to locate any other sources of shelter that could be utilized. I don’t care how hallowed or privileged. This is an emergency and all space is to be used.”
“You’re serious?” he said, amazed.
“I will not have my people dying on my doorstep!” she declared in a raised voice that left no room for question.
Guards looked up, concerned by her unusual outburst. Servants appeared nervous and several noticeably cringed. The city administrator did not. He remained straight, his eyes focused on her own. He said nothing for a moment; then his lips began to move about as if he were sucking on something, and finally he began to nod.