After that, we went over his assignments and readings, and I asked him to re-read the section of the history dealing with the events leading to the formation of the Collegium and the first Council. When he left, I almost felt as though I’d been doing manual labor, but I had half a glass to check the reports Kahlasa brought me after Ralyea left. There was nothing more on either Ruelyr or Johanyr.
At least the walk across the quadrangle to the duty coach station refreshed me, even with the chill blustery wind.
As I sat in the duty coach, headed northward on West River Road, I realized why Master Dichartyn had often been so hard to find-and I was far from doing all that I probably should have been. Ferlyn’s words, or their implications, still nagged at me. The drive took only slightly less than a glass, since the “L’Excelsis” estate of the Suyriens was three milles from Imagisle, although it was closer to one and a half as a raven flew, because both the road and the River Aluse wound their way north. Still, that was far closer than Suyrien’s main estate, some fifteen milles south of L’Excelsis, if also on the river.
The “smaller” L’Excelsis estate was located on a hill overlooking the river. Surprisingly, to me, the walls were less than three yards in height, and there was but a single guard in the gate house, who opened the gates and waved the gray Collegium coach through for the drive to the mansion-not quite a chateau, since it was a comparatively modest two-story gray stone structure on the hillcrest a mere hundred yards from end to end. The trim was crimson, and the roof tiles well-kept but weathered slate.
A single footman stepped out from the portico to greet me, and Frydryk was waiting in the hexagonal foyer.
I inclined my head to him. “I’m sorry to intrude at this time, but I’m afraid that your father’s death will not be the only one if we can’t track down those responsible quickly.”
“I understand.” He gestured to the door on his left, then turned.
I followed him into a study whose front windows, their pale blue hangings drawn back, overlooked the River Aluse and its gray swirling waters. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered the inside wall facing the windows. A small writing desk was set before the windows, with three yards of polished parquet flooring between the desk chair and a circular table with four chairs.
Frydryk took the chair facing the windows. I took the one to his right.
“What would you like to know?” he asked.
“Several things. First, when we had dinner with you and Kandryl, you alluded to why your father had paid a visit to High Holder Ruelyr. I’d appreciate it very much if you’d expand on that. You’d mentioned his problems with low justice, but it wasn’t just that, was it?”
“It is a High Holder matter, Rhenn.”
“Was it about the elveweed traced to his lands? And the fact that his lands were so heavily mortgaged that he had no other way to meet the banque’s terms but to accept a questionable lease and turn the other eye?” The last part was only a guess, but I couldn’t see any other reason for a High Holder to get involved…except by ignorance or stupidity.
“I shouldn’t say. Really.”
I smiled pleasantly. “There’s already an investigation under way, and possibly a justiciary inquiry, you know. It will come out, and you wouldn’t want more holders or factors to die when everyone will know before long anyway. Was he gaoling tenants under low justice to keep them from reporting the elveweed?”
“Father didn’t know. He had heard that Ruelyr, and some others, had been incarcerating malefactors longer than they should have. He wanted to find out more.”
“Did he?”
“He didn’t say much when he came back, except that he couldn’t help Ruelyr any more. He was worried. He said that Ruelyr blamed him for his troubles. Father didn’t say why. He only said that Ruelyr was living in the past, and that he wouldn’t listen. He told me to avoid him because Ruelyr’s actions would bring him down, sooner or later.”
“He didn’t say any more than that?”
Frydryk shook his head.
“Isn’t most of Ruelyr’s worth tied up in land?”
Frydryk nodded. “He has a few manufactories, but they’re really just to supply his lands.”
“What does Alynkya think about him?”
“Ah…I haven’t asked her.”
“You should ask her…about many things. Women often see what we miss. Her eyes may be the only pair besides your own that you can trust.” I paused, then asked, “How are the shipworks doing?”
Frydryk blinked, as if disconcerted by the apparent change of subject. “We’re doing well enough with building merchanters and the like. We’re finishing up a fast frigate for the Naval Command in a few weeks, but it will be the last, until…” He shrugged.
“Despite your father’s position, he had great difficulty in persuading the rest of the Council of the need for more modern vessels. That’s what I understood.”
“That’s true enough. Father even agreed to a fixed-price contract for the first fast battlecruiser. We would have lost tens of thousands of golds on it, and the Council still wouldn’t agree.”
“Councilor Glendyl, in spite of all he said in public.” A touch of bitterness shaded his words.
“Wouldn’t he have supplied all the engines and boilers?”
“He had a contract with father, splitting the profits.”
“And he would have shared in the losses?”
Frydryk shook his head. “He would have broken even. Father would have taken the losses.” He paused. “Just on the first ship. That was so the Council could see how much better it was.”
“What did Glendyl say?”
“He said that he’d be Namer-cursed if he’d forgo a profit because the Council was too stupid to do what was right. He told father that he and the other High Holders either had to change the way Solidar was governed or that the realities of modern technology would take care of it, one way or another.”
“That sounds like a threat of sorts.”
“Father just laughed afterwards. He said that Glendyl understood golds, but not people, and that was why he accomplished so little in the Council.”
“Whereas Caartyl understands people, but not golds?”
“I suppose you could put it that way.”
“Have you ever spent much time with either Glendyl or Caartyl?”
“No. I’ve exchanged pleasantries. That’s about it.”
“Did your father ever deal with Sea-Marshal Geuffryt?”
“I don’t know. He never mentioned that name.”
“Juniae D’Shendael?”
Frydryk raised his eyebrows. “It wasn’t a good idea even to mention her name around father.”
From what I’d heard, I wasn’t surprised.
Abruptly, he looked at me, then frowned.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I hesitate to say this, but…. Rhenn, do you know how many High Holders aren’t…how should I put it… extraordinarily effusive when your name is mentioned?”
I managed a wry smile. “Besides you, Kandryl, Alynkya, and Iryela…I’d be amazed if any were even politely effusive.”
“Father alluded to matters…”
“Your father was a thoughtful High Holder, especially in considering the interests of all the people of Solidar. Intelligent as most High Holders are, few approach his breadth of understanding.” I was probably overstating the case, but, if Suyrien hadn’t told his sons, except indirectly, how Kandryl had come to be Ryel D’Alte, I wasn’t about to. In such matters, I trusted Suyrien’s judgment about other High Holders. Unhappily, it meant that the Collegium would have more High Holder resentments to deal with because I was more visible and more senior.
I didn’t want to press Frydryk, nor to answer his implied question, and I replied by saying, “There were
