Magic's Price

Radevel, Mekeal, and two cousins Vanyel just barely knew. That conference left him with a profound admiration for how well the folk in this so-called “Border backwater” were keeping up with important news. They knew pretty well how much impact Treven's marriage was going to have on situations outKingdom, had good guesses about what concessions Randale was likely to have to make with Rethwellan in order to gain their Queen's aid, and had a fair notion of the amount of help Tashir was likely to be able to offer Valdemar.

What they wanted to know was the real state of the situation with Karse. “We heard they'd outlawed magery,” Radevel said, putting his feet up on the low table they all shared, “and there was rumors about fightin' inside Karse. All well an' good, if it's true, an' what's bad for Karse is likely to be good for us 'twould look like, but what's that really gonna do to us? That gonna end up spillin' across the Border, you reckon?”

Vanyel put his drink down on the table, and dipped his finger into a puddle of spilled ale. “Here's the Karsite Border,” he said, drawing it for them. “Here's Rethwellan, and here's us. Now this is what we know so far -”

In a few sentences he was able to sum up his own and Randale's analysis of the situation, and the reasons why the alliance with Rethwellan was all the more necessary.

“So we end up takin' hind teat if there's trouble out here, hmm?” one of the cousins said cynically, around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

“To be brutally frank,” Vanyel felt forced to say, “unless it's a major incursion, yes. I wish I could tell you differently.”

Radevel shrugged philosophically. “Somebody's gotta take second place,” he pointed out. “No way around that. Seems to me we've been doin' pretty well for ourselves; we got some Guard, we got our own patrols, we got Tashir an' his people. So long as nobody brings up an army, we should be all right.” Withen nodded, and refilled all their mugs, letting the foam run over the tops with casual disregard for the state of the furniture.

“l can do this much for you,” Vanyel told them after a moment's thought. Five sets of eyes fastened on him. “You know I have limited Crown authority. I can authorize a general reduction in taxes for landholders who keep their own armed forces. And I can get you weapons - and I think some trainers. We've got some Guards that are minus legs or arms that would still make good trainers, even if they can't fight.”

All of them brightened at that. Mekeal looked as if he was counting something up in his head.

:Probably would-be young heroes,: Yfandes said cynically. :And he's reckoning how much he can get taken off the tax-roles by encouraging young hotheads to take their energy off to the Guard.:

:Probably,: Van replied, thinking a little sadly of all the aspiring heroes who had found only early graves on the Karsite Border. And how many more he'd send there, if indirectly. . . .

But the fighters had to come from somewhere. Better that they came as volunteers, and well-trained. “I can probably even authorize tax credit if you send trained fighters for the Guard instead of cash or kind at tax time,” he continued. “Randale's pretty loath to hire mercenaries, but he wants to avoid conscription, and right now the ranks down South are getting thinner than we'd like.”

“I got another thought,” Mekeal put in. “Give that credit across Valdemar, an' send the green'uns to us for training an' seasoning. We'll get 'em blooded without the kind of loss you get in combat.”

That made him feel less guilty. “Good gods,” Vanyel replied, “I'm surrounded by geniuses! Why didn't we think of that?”

Meke shrugged, pleased. “Just tryin' to help all of us.”

:It's an excellent solution to getting youngsters used to real combat at relatively low risk,: 'Fandes observed, with approval. :I like the way your brother thinks.:

:So do I, dearling.: He nodded at Meke. “That will help immensely, I truly think.”

They discussed other matters for a while, but it was fairly evident that they'd touched on all the topics the others considered of the most import. Vanyel got to his feet and excused himself when the conversation devolved to small talk about hunting.

“I'll make an effort to get in touch with Herald Joshel and get confirmation on everything we covered,” he told them, and grinned, seeing a chance to bring a point home. “That's the advantage of having a strong Mindspeaking Herald around when you need answers in a hurry. Joshe is actually a stronger Mindspeaker than I am, and he's taking my place with Randale while I'm gone. I know when he'll be free tomorrow, and I'll contact him then.”

He was surprised at how late it was when he left them. The halls were quiet; the servants had long since gone to bed, leaving every other lamp out, and the ones still burning turned down low. His room would be the guest room he'd used every visit he'd made home, and he knew exactly where it was, despite the additions to the manor and the darkness of the halls.

He found himself yawning as he neared his door. I didn't realize how tired I was, he thought sleepily. It's a good thing I didn't drink that second mug of ale Father poured. I wonder what room they put Stef in? I hope it wasn't the one overlooking the gardens; ye gods, he'll be up all night with