Sinner

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“I had every right to impose those taxes –” Askam began, but Caelum silenced them both with an angry look.

“We are all aware of how onerous these taxes are,” he said. “A third of the value of goods is … exorbitant. Ten thousand gold pieces per family moving north is incomprehensible.”

Zared relaxed slightly.

“I wish to hear from the principals involved, then from Duke Theod and Earl Herme who were kind enough to ride to Sigholt to offer their views, then from the rest of you about this table. Askam, will you speak?”

Askam took a deep breath. “My friends, I am as aware as any of you how draconian these taxes sound. However, consider my position. For years I have worked tirelessly on Tencendor’s behalf, and on StarSon Caelum’s behalf. These efforts have cost me dearly. My creditors push for the return of their funds. These taxes will clear the West of debt within two years –”

“And two years is more than enough to drive your people into starvation, Askam!” Zared cried. “Curse you! There are better ways of raising revenue than stealing it from the mouths of those who can least afford to –”

“Oh, god’s arse, Zared!” Askam said. “This is all about you! Have you not been transporting your ore and gems and furs free of charge down to the southern markets at a handsome profit for decades? This talk of starving peasants is nonsense. Your purse has been dented – you who can well afford it – and thus you complain. I have not seen you spend more than a copper piece entertaining diplomats and foreign missions, nor founding the schools or universities that I have.”

“Be quiet, Askam,” Caelum said, then shifted his eyes slightly. “Zared, Askam has got a point there. You have indeed made free use of his extensive system of roads and river boats for many years now.”

“I have paid full price for their passage, StarSon,” Zared said.

“Still, Askam does have the right to impose taxes on external goods moving through his territory. The fact is, he could have levied this tax only on your goods, not on those of his own people.”

Zared held his breath for a moment, then spoke very deliberately. “The fact is, Caelum, that Askam has imposed a tax which directly hurts the West, and indirectly hurts another province. And the … human … populations of the West and North feel that they have been inordinately imposed upon. If these taxes are the result of debt run up in your cause, Caelum, then why do not all the peoples of Tencendor help retrieve the situation?”

“The Avar do not pay taxes,” Isfrael said, very low.

“And yet my people must!” Zared cried. “Can you not all of you see how dangerous this is? One race pays the debts of a nation of three races?”

“Enough,” Caelum said. “Before I ask the views of the Avar, Icarii and Ravensbund, I would have Herme and Theod enter.”

He nodded at the side tables, and one of the secretaries hurried to open the doors, whisper urgently, and escort the Duke and Earl to the table.

Herme and Theod stood slightly to the right of Sa’Domai’s chair, where all could see them. Both wore tightly restrained expressions, both avoided looking at either Askam or Zared.

“Your views, gentlemen?” Caelum asked.

Herme spoke first, detailing how the taxes had impacted upon his own county of Avonsdale. All had been crippled, not only those with business moving goods on the road, but even the lowly farmers or labourers who moved neither stock nor fodder from their land.

“They can hardly afford food now, StarSon,” Herme finished. “If they cannot grow it, then they certainly cannot buy it, for merchants have been forced to increase the cost of all merchandise to cover the taxes.”

Which naturally, Zared thought, then increases the taxes in direct proportion to the inflated value of the goods.

Theod told a similar tale. The people of Jervois Landing, of whom almost all relied on trade to survive, would be destitute within the year. And yet they could look across the Nordra, look into eastern Tencendor under FreeFall’s control, and see free markets, and round, rosy cheeks on the children.

“As, of course, they can in the North,” he said finally. “Many among the people of the West are moving north, and if they cannot afford to pay the border tax, then most of them will become homeless, destitute, and a burden on those already struggling to survive.”

“I thank you, gentlemen,” Caelum said, just as Herme had opened his mouth to say something else. “You may retire.”

He waited until the doors had closed behind them, then he looked at Isfrael, FreeFall, Yllgaine and Sa’Domai. “My friends?”

FreeFall spoke first. “There can be no doubt that these taxes are onerous, StarSon. But …”

“But obviously something must be done to relieve Askam of the burden of debt he ran up in your service, Caelum,” Yllgaine said. “The tax on goods moved through the West seems the best way to do it.”

Zared bit his tongue to keep his anger from spilling out in unreasoned words. Yllgaine undoubtedly would not want his trading rights taxed!

Isfrael’s only comment was to repeat that the Avar had never been taxed, and would not consent to being taxed now. “And how would they pay it? In twigs? In acorns?”

Sa’Domai shrugged. “I can sympathise with Zared in that his people also suffer … but I note Askam’s point that this debt was largely run up in Tencendor’s service –”

Zared could no longer contain himself. “And some appalling investments! Gloam mines, for the gods’ sakes!”

Caelum hit the table with the flat of his hand. “Be still, Zared! Or would you like to entertain the Corolean Ambassador and his train the next time he decides on a three-year stay?”

Zared leaned back in his chair, his eyes carefully blank, listening to the conversation waft about him. Those of the Five not directly affected by the taxes first spoke of the weight of the taxes, then of Askam’s pressing (and understandable) need for money.

Caelum listened, nodded occasionally, and was careful not to give the impression that he was for one side or the other. Finally he held up his hand for silence.

“The issue of placing a border tax on those families wishing to move north must also be resolved.”

“The issue is one of the freedom of a man to move his family to where they can eat, Caelum,” Zared snapped, tired of the discussion, but not willing to let such an important point pass with no debate.

“The issue,” Askam shot back, “is whether or not you have the right to entice the most skilled of my workers and craftsmen north. I hear rumour that you pay well for such men to settle in Severin. Well enough, I think, to levy a tax on each of their departing heads for the troubles their loss causes me.”

“I pay them nothing! They journey north only because they know their families will have a future with –”

“Enough!” Now Caelum stood, furious. “I have heard sufficient to judge in this matter.”

He sat down again, but his eyes were still flinty. “Askam. You may have the right to levy taxes as you will in the West, but you do not have the right to deprive people of the means of survival. Zared, your people have suffered too, and that is wrong, but what is also wrong is the fact that for many years … too many years, you have grown fat on the riches of Ichtar which you have shipped, free of any levy, to market via the West.

“This is my judgment. The border tax must go. It is an injustice to so deprive people of their freedom of movement, their freedom of choice to move.”

“But –” Askam began.

“However, I hope that my decision on the other tax will go some way to alleviate your financial troubles, Prince of the West. The third tax on goods carried through the West must be lowered to one-tenth, still onerous, but enough for your people to bear.”

Askam’s face went dark with anger. How did that help him? A tenth would never bring in – “But, Askam,” and Caelum’s eyes slid fractionally towards him, “I am fully aware that most of your debt was accomplished in my service, and for that I am more than grateful. While the people of the West must only pay one-tenth in tax, anyone else moving their goods through the West must pay half value in levy.”

Zared’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. What was Caelum doing? “No-one else moves goods through the West save the people of the North,” he finally managed. “That is a tax aimed directly at me and mine!”

Caelum turned to look him full in the eye. “And when have you run into debt to aid me, Zared? When? This is a fair way, as I see it, of making sure that all contribute towards –”

“But none of them have to pay!” Zared shouted, flinging an angry arm at the others. “When do they contribute towards –”

“Are you asking what the Icarii contribute?” Caelum seethed, “when they spent a thousand years in exile due to … due to …”

Due to your people. Caelum may not have spoken the words, but all heard his thoughts in their minds.

“Do you ask what Nor contributes, when for a thousand years his family maintained the Island of Mist and Memory?”

And for a thousand years your people desecrated every sacred site in Tencendor they could lay a plough to?

“Do you ask what the Avar contribute, when they had to watch their homelands slaughtered, their children burned?”

And for a thousand years your people took the axe to every tree they could find, and murdered those who did not conform to the Way of the Plough?

Zared had gone white with shock. He stared at Caelum, absolutely incapable of speech.

How could Caelum send those thoughts careering through all of their heads, and still claim that he didn’t want the term “Acharite” used because it stank of the hatreds of the past?

Caelum held his stare, then waved one of the Lake Guard over. “Bring in the Princess Leagh,” he said.

“No,” whispered Zared. “Not after that, not –”

The doors opened, and Leagh walked in. She had dressed herself in a gown of silk that precisely matched the grey of Zared’s eyes, and her face was as ashen as his, for she had heard the shouting of the previous minutes.

Even so, she was composed, and she did not tremble or falter as she curtsied before Caelum. “StarSon.”

“Princess Leagh,” Caelum said, his tone now far more gentle. “You and Zared are aware of why I have called you here.”

She stood, and gazed calmly at him. “I am, StarSon. Is it yea or nay?”

Caelum was taken aback at such bluntness. He had meant to put this matter before the entire Council as well, even though he had made up his mind weeks ago, because he’d felt that both Zared and Leagh would take it better if his decision was backed by the weight of the Council.

But after the previous “discussion”, Caelum did not trust this gathering, nor even himself, to be able to keep a debate calm and reasoned.

“Leagh … Zared,” he risked a quick glance at Zared, but turned back to Leagh. “Leagh, it is nay. It must be nay. There are good reasons for my –”

He got no further. Zared leapt to his feet. “Good reasons, Caelum? Good reasons to deny Leagh and myself our hearts’ desire? Why? Is there a tax on her I have neglected to pay?”

He turned to Askam. “How much, man? A third? A half?”

Askam leaped to his feet, his chair crashing behind him. He made as if to lunge across the table, but FreeFall was quick enough, and strong enough, to seize his arm and drag him back.

“Peace!” Caelum shouted. He signalled one of the Lake Guard. “Please escort the Princess Leagh from this Hall. I have words to speak that I would not like her to hear.”

Leagh shot one frightened, stricken look at Zared, but then the birdman had her by the elbow and was pulling her back.

“Leagh!” Zared cried, but he was restrained by Isfrael, and the door closed behind Leagh with no further word or look being exchanged.

Caelum whipped about to face Zared. “You have gone too far, Prince!”

As have you, Zared thought. He was icy calm now, and he shook off Isfrael’s hold.

Caelum sat down. “I will close this Council within minutes, Zared, but first I need to say that –”

“You cannot close this Council yet,” Zared said. “There is one more item of business we need to discuss.”

Caelum stared at him. “And what might that be?”

“We need,” Zared said, his hand absently hovering where his sword normally hung from his weapons belt, “to discuss restoring the throne of Achar.”

13 The Throne of Achar (#ulink_1cab7603-90c2-5ecf-9ff6-fd8d4145072f)

The entire Hall was silent, stunned. The notaries and secretaries had paused in their incessant hunt for precedents in their documents to stare open-mouthed at the central table. The scribes’ quills had dipped unnoticed to scratch uselessly against cloth instead of parchment. The messenger boys were rigid with terror, incapable of moving.

The guards, already rigid and expressionless, still somehow managed to register their outrage. Restore the throne of Achar?

“And so now the traitor speaks,” Askam said softly into the silence. “Is this what you have wanted all along, Zared? Is this the reason you so pursued Leagh?”

“I am no traitor,” Zared said, just as quietly, “to want for the Acharites what every other race in Tencendor has – their own head. Their own pride.”

“Sit down, Zared,” Caelum said. Nothing about his demeanour revealed the intense shock, even fear, Zared’s words had caused.

Caelum set his hands flat on the table before him, stared at them a long moment, then raised his eyes to the six men about the table. “Speak to me,” he said.

“Well,” Yllgaine said, “technically this conversation is academic only. The throne of Achar no longer exists. It is a relic of the past. It cannot be revived.”

“Achar no longer exists!” Askam exclaimed. His body was stiff with outrage, his eyes bright with indignant anger. As Prince of the West, Askam had the most to lose if the realm of Achar was recreated. Achar had once covered most of the territory he now governed, and had included Carlon, the richest and most populous city in Tencendor. “And thus the ‘Acharites’ don’t exist. Have you not read your Edicts of the First Year of StarSon Caelum’s Reign, Zared?”

Zared ignored him. “This is not how I wished to raise the issue –” he began, when Caelum interrupted.

“Nevertheless, this is how you raised it! I – nay, all of us here at this table – would be grateful if you would enlighten us as to the motives … the desires … behind your words.”

“But now that the issue has been raised,” Zared continued regardless, refusing to look at Caelum, “may I speak without interruption?”

Askam started to say something more, but Caelum held up his hand for silence. “Let him speak.”

“My friends, when Axis reunited Tencendor he righted a massive wrong. I cannot deny that. Former Acharite kings and the Seneschal had riven the ancient realm apart with their lies and hatred. Borneheld only made matters worse, and I have no quarrel with the fact that Axis killed our brother in fair duel in the Chamber of the Moons in Carlon.

“But I do have some reservations about his choices immediately after winning that duel. He reproclaimed Tencendor, yes, but in doing so he destroyed the ancient kingdom of Achar.”

“It had no place in Tencendor!” Askam said, looking about the table for support. “It was ever an aberration!”