“Everything in its own time, my lord,” Rhovann said. “First we must convince Grigor Hulmaster to step down-or force him to if he fails to see reason. After all, he is simply the wrong man for the times.”
“The wrong man for the times,” Marstel said softly. It was not his own thought, but he was so deeply under Rhovann’s dominion, he likely believed that it was.
“Do not speak of becoming harmach again. It is a secret between you and me.”
“A secret …” Marstel smiled, and his eyes took on a cunning cast. “I have a secret.”
Rhovann frowned. Maroth Marstel was not a young man, and between besotting himself with drink and a certain native lack of wits, he very well may have started along the long, confusing road that afflicted some humans as they grew old. Rhovann had used spells of compulsion and control on Marstel for months now with little concern for the innate soundness of the man’s mind. He found with no small vexation that he did not know exactly how his magic was likely to be affected by the subject’s slide into senescence-one more unpleasant characteristic of humankind seemingly designed for his personal frustration and annoyance. It might be wise for Marstel to spend more of his time out of sight of others and to adopt a pretense that the House mage Lastannor was an especially loyal, competent, and trusted subordinate who conducted most of Marstel’s business so as not to trouble the great man with needless details.
In a tenday or two that will be Sergen’s concern, not mine, Rhovann reminded himself. After all, he didn’t care what became of Hulburg after he was finished dealing with Geran. Whether Sergen succeeded in seating a puppet on the throne-such as it was in this rude little backwater-or lost control of the city as Marstel’s failing mind became apparent to all didn’t matter to him in the slightest. But just in case, Rhovann murmured the words of his domination charm and erased the childishness from Marstel’s expression.
The carriage rolled into the courtyard of the harmach’s castle, and footmen appeared to help Marstel from the coach. Judging from the other carriages in the courtyard, Rhovann guessed that they were the last to arrive. He allowed Marstel to lead the way into the castle’s great hall and trailed a step or two behind. The other members of the Harmach’s Council waited by the table, conversing with each other or studying their notes. Seated in the row behind the place reserved for Marstel as the head of the Merchant Council, the heads of the other great merchant companies in Hulburg-Sokol, Jannarsk, Double Moon, and Iron Ring-waited as well.
“Lord Marstel! Master Mage Lastannor!” the Shieldsworn guard by the door announced. The murmur of conversation in the room died away, and the various officials took their seats. Rhovann and Marstel sat down just in time to be called to their feet by Harmach Grigor’s arrival. They stood slowly, and the mage studied the ruler of Hulburg as he descended the stairs leading to the great hall. Grigor looked pale and tired, and he sat down with an audible sigh. The councilors and assembled advisors and seconds sat down as well.
Deren Ilkur, the Keeper of Duties, rapped his gavel on the table. “The Harmach’s Council is met,” he said. “With your permission, my lords and ladies, we will set aside the normal agenda and proceed directly to the urgent business of the day-the rioting and unrest in the Tailings and other poor neighborhoods.”
No one objected. Then Burkel Tresterfin cleared his throat and spoke. “I suppose I’ll speak first,” he said. “Two more buildings were burned last night. At this rate, there will be nothing left of Hulburg but ashes. What steps can we take to restore order? Can’t the Shieldsworn do something?”
“The Shieldsworn are stretched to their limit,” Kara said. Her brow was creased with a stern frown that hadn’t lifted for days. “We bore the brunt of the fighting against the Black Moon, and many of the harmach’s soldiers were killed or seriously wounded in the struggle to defend the town. The last thing we expected in the wake of the pirate raid was a full-scale revolt by the foreign laborers who have settled here in recent years. I’ve brought as many men in from the post-towers as I dare to, but until
“Is there any news of
Kara shook her head. “None that I’ve heard, High Magistrate. We may not hear anything for many days yet.”
Rhovann chose to attack the opening Nimstar had unwittingly provided him. “So the harmach’s plan for quelling the unrest is to wait for
“Then I need more soldiers.” Kara looked across the table to Marstel and the heads of the Merchant Council Houses behind him. “Your companies employ hundreds of sellswords. So far they’ve done nothing but guard your own storehouses and compounds. Place those armsmen under the harmach’s command for a few days, and I’ll check the Cinderfists, the Crimson Chains, and the rest of the foreign gangs. It won’t address their grievances in the long term, of course, but it should at least restore calm to the city.”
Marstel shifted in his seat. Rhovann carefully shaped the answer he intended, and willed it through the old lord’s lips. “No,” Marstel said clearly. “We will not place our guards under the harmach’s command. The time has come for the Merchant Council to take more direct action to bring an end to this chaos.”
“Direct action, Lord Marstel?” Kara asked, with a hint of suspicion in her voice. Rhovann could not really blame her for that. Marstel’s bold ideas were often stunning examples of braggadocio or folly.
“It is clear to the Merchant Council that the Tower no longer has the ability to meet this challenge,” Marstel answered. “Therefore the Merchant Council has resolved to assume responsibility for the governance, good order, and security of Hulburg. We have a list of specific demands that must be immediately enacted.”
Several of the council members started to protest, but Rhovann pushed Marstel ahead. Marstel rose to his feet and raised his voice, overriding everyone else at the table. “First, the illegal militia known as the Moonshields must be immediately banned. If we say that one gang of ruffians, vigilantes, and scofflaws is illegal in Hulburg, then all such gangs must be illegal. Since the Spearmeet is simply a thin justification for the Moonshields to meet and organize, the Spearmeet must be disarmed and disbanded as well. We can no longer accept so-called militias taking the law into their own hands!
“Second, the ill-considered ban on the Merchant Council’s employment of a Council Guard must be rescinded. The harmach refuses to safeguard our property and our rights in his domains. Very well; we intend to protect our substantial investments in Hulburg ourselves.
“Third, since the Merchant Council is obligated to see to our own security-at no small expense of our own-we renounce all existing concessions and leases with the Tower. Why should we pay the harmach ruinous royalties for no benefits other than the right to do business in Hulburg?” Marstel glowered fiercely at Grigor Hulmaster, seated above the head of the table. “If the harmach cannot protect our interests in Hulburg, we must do so ourselves.”
The chamber was still as a tomb when Marstel finished. Rhovann hid a small smile behind the ridiculous beard he wore in his guise as a Turmishan mage. Kara Hulmaster was so angry her eyes positively glowed with the tainted magic that marked her azure irises. Shieldsworn guards standing watch over the proceedings pressed their lips together tightly and glared at Marstel, well aware of how much of an insult the old buffoon had delivered to their lord.
“This is impossible!” snapped Wulreth Keltor. The old Keeper of Keys quivered with rage. “We all remember how the so-called Council Guard managed their affairs! And the concessions cannot be renegotiated!”
“I fail to see how disarming Hulburg’s law-abiding citizens and taking steps to enrich the merchant companies will help to restore order,” Deren Ilkur said. He frowned deeply behind his short, black beard. It was his task as Keeper of Duties to chair the council meetings and set the agenda, but it was clear that he couldn’t continue until the question of Marstel’s challenge had been dealt with.
For his own part, Harmach Grigor simply stared at Marstel for twenty long heartbeats, his face sagging in exhaustion. Finally Grigor gathered his strength and spoke. “And if we do not adopt these measures, Lord Marstel?” he asked in a weary voice. “What then?”
Rhovann glanced at Marstel and fixed his will on the old merchant lord. Marstel drew himself up with a pompous sniff. “Then the Merchant Council will take steps to enforce these measures ourselves. House Hulmaster has run this domain into ruin. We will not permit the Hulmasters to prevent us from saving ourselves.”
Kara Hulmaster leaped to her feet, unable to sit quietly any longer. “I have endured years of your stupidity in this chamber, Marstel, but this is intolerable! The freedom to speak your mind does not give you the authority to incite rebellion! You say that the Hulmasters have brought this town to ruin. Need I remind you that only five
