Broken Rule | Chapter 23

This post is chapter twenty-three of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.

The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

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Baron Henrik Zsolt found an invitation to dine with the king waiting for him the moment he arrived in Kubara. He regretted that he had let so many of his Tarkannan contacts wither during his years in Liat. Now, rushing to get himself cleaned up and presentable, he would have no opportunity to get the lay of the land before meeting with Radoslav.

In terms of royal engagements, the meal was an intimate affair. The king sat at the head of the table with Count Evgeny on his right hand. Sir Grigori and half a dozen other freehold knights completed the group. After so many years in Liat, Henrik was reminded of all the things he despised about Tarkannan cuisine. Each dish was either overwhelmed by the spices that the Desert Traders brought to the city or totally devoid of them. One might hope that it would somehow balance out and provide a flavorful combination, but it never worked out that way. Which was the worse sin, to have no taste at all or to overwhelm the palate with spice so you could taste nothing else? Perhaps whoever was running the kitchen was conducting an empirical study in natural philosophy rather than exemplifying everything that was wrong with Tarkannan cooking.

“Tell me about my son, Henrik,” said Radoslav, “It has been so long since I have seen him.”

“Majesty, I am pleased to say that Zakhar is a fine man and a good prince,” Henrik answered. “He is quite popular in Liat. He is a great patron of artists and philosophers.”

“It is interesting,” said Evgeny, “that you don't begin by mentioning his prowess as a knight. I would have thought that quite important, given Liat's military reputation.”

“My lord, you know as well as I that the army of Liat is led by officers selected from among the common soldiers. The prince concerns himself with matters of state, as is the Liatian tradition, not the battlefield.”

“And here I thought that Zakhar was a Tarkannan like his father.”

Henrik had walked into that. He truly had been away from Tarkannan too long. “Naturally, but he chooses to respect the traditions of Liat.”

“I was led to understand that Liatians were open to those that question their traditions. Isn't that the principal activity of these philosophers that Prince Zakhar is so fond of?”

Leave it to Evgeny to twist things like that. Was he merely attempting wit to amuse the others or was he laying a foundation for resisting the kind of changes that Danijela intended to bring to Tarkannan? “Some traditions are offered more respect than others. The function of the Liatian military is seldom questioned, given its well deserved reputation.”

“And pray tell, which traditions are afforded less respect? I have heard talk that the vows of marriage are not considered sacred and binding in Liat.”

“It is true that some merchants have been granted divorce in recent years. When the first petition came, Princess Danijela had someone look into it. I expected the Church of the Most Holy to object, but it turns out that the Blessed Book is surprisingly silent on the subject.”

“Surely you mean Prince Zakhar did this, not his wife.”

Henrik cursed himself for slipping up again. “Yes, of course, my lord.”

Radoslav interrupted their back and forth. “Speaking of Danijela, I am concerned that she has yet to produce an heir. I think we can all learn the lesson from Duke Benedek that not having a proper heir can lead to great trouble. Some have suggested that she is past the age for children by now.”

Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. “Majesty, I am no midwife. I can't speak to such things.”

“Perhaps,” said Evgeny, “this is the sort of thing that led these merchant friends of yours to petition for divorce. Do you think that is an idea that Zakhar will bring from Liat?”

Henrik cursed himself for underestimating Evgeny. He had been so accustomed to thinking of Tarkannan as rustic and primitive that he had forgotten the low cunning that the nobility always brought to their maneuverings, and the sophistication they applied to defending their parochial interests. Evgeny knew as well as Henrik that Danijela was the true power in Liat. He wasn't blinded by a father's love the way Radoslav was. He was making it clear that he would not roll over for Danijela. Evgeny would never make a political move unless he was confident that he had the support of the nobility. Henrik had warned Danijela that there would be resistance to her rule, and now it was clear that Evgeny intended to lead that faction. Henrik realized he had been pondering the implications too long, that he had allowed an unpleasant silence to take over the conversation. Henrik had been shocked awake by Evgeny's bold gambit, but now, taking his cue from the chef, he would respond only with blandness. “I don't know, my lord, it is my custom to share my thoughts and advice with the prince, but he seldom volunteers his own to me.”

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Count Evgeny had revealed himself as an enemy, and Henrik regretted again that he had let so much of his influence in Tarkannan slip away. The few favors he could call in were owed by people who were days or weeks away from Kubara, if he could even get letters to them. He could wait for Danijela herself to arrive, but he recalled her mood the last time he had discussed the notion of Tarkannan resistance to her rule. He needed to recover some face. He needed to take action. But how?

Not knowing what else to do, Henrik resolved to drown his sorrows. He made his way to Filip's Parlor, a respectable version of what the commoners might call a tavern. Henrik had learned from some freehold knights that attendance there had become the latest craze at court. Instead of kegs of ale, Filip's Parlor offered the widest selection of fruit-based liquors from the orchard regions of Tarkannan. Only after he stepped inside did Henrik realize that a place filled with Tarkannan nobility was the last place he could hope to relax. Still, several people had seen him enter and he couldn't simply turn and leave without making himself look like a fool. He scanned the room and saw a man sitting alone at a table in the far corner. From his attire he was clearly a foreigner, and he seemed to have a similarly dim view of being surrounded by Tarkannans. Henrik hoped he would be at least tolerable company and approached the table. Henrik cleared his throat to get the man's attention. "May I join you?"

The man looked Henrik up and down. "You don't look Tarkannan," he said, apparently having consumed enough drink to make him less decorous than one might expect.

Henrik ran a finger along a seam in his Liatian embroidered coat. "I spend most of my time in Liat these days. Baron Henrik Zsolt, at your service."

The man pushed a chair away from the table, a wordless invitation to sit. "Enrico Conti," the man introduced himself. "Torzani ambassador to this dung heap of a kingdom."

Henrik blushed slightly as he sat down. He couldn't really disagree with Conti's assessment of Tarkannan, but it wasn't the sort of thing you said out loud. "I believe the word we're supposed to use is 'quaint'," Henrik suggested.

Conti laughed. "It is that." He down a glass of whatever he was drinking and signaled the waitress to bring some more for the two of them to share.

"So, why does a Torzani gentlemen like you find himself in our quaint kingdom?"

Apparently Henrik had hit a sore spot. Conti seethed silently for a moment, and then apparently found words to express his feelings. "I made the mistake of thinking that the bonds of family were more important than political expediency."

"I see," said Henrik, not seeing at all. The Torzani were infamous for their political machinations, and the in-fighting among Torzani families was the most notorious of all.

"You'd think that marrying his cow of a sister would bring some gratitude from Ignatio, but instead he sacrifices me over some dispute with the church."

"Ah," said Henrik, more of the picture coming into focus. He himself knew the bitter taste of opportunism that had turned sour. Danijela's prospects for taking the Tarkannan throne looked bleak, and that meant that Henriks' future looked even bleaker. "Disputes with the church can be tricky things."

Apparently this hit another sore spot. "It's all the doing of that damnable wizard, Arturo Boroni," Conti snarled. "We put the dead in the ground for a reason. Once they're gone they're meant to stop causing trouble. But what that wizard does is an abomination against the natural order, and he's acquired a taste for trouble-making from the restless spirits he consorts with."

Henrik found that to be a surprisingly lucid argument for one so drunk, and suspected Conti had been dwelling on those thoughts for some time. He had to wonder whether this wizard was simply the easiest target for Conti's enmity, given the political firestorm he might ignite in Torzano were he to openly criticize the church, or even Speaker Ignatio. "Perhaps it's a blessing that you're so far away from him, then," Henrik offered.

"I'll drink to that," said Conti as he drained another glass. "So, what brings you here?"

Henrik sighed. "This business with Gavril. There was some concern that he would seize the throne, and I'm supposed to ensure that the proper succession is maintained. Now that he's been named Lord Marshal, who can say what's happening."

Conti groaned. "Don't get me started on that. At first it seemed like an opportunity. What's so wrong about slipping a little gold to an underfunded aspirant for the throne, I ask you? Once Gavril was king, he would have paid me back a hundredfold with nearly exclusive control over shipping into and out of this backwater kingdom. But no, the church and that damnable wizard had to stick their noses in, and then my dear brother-in-law demanded I cut off his funds. Now the only thing anyone here is likely to remember is that I supported the opposition, except for Gavril who will only recall that I withdrew my support. I lose all around."

Henrik was grateful for the fact that Conti was slurring his speech so much that it would be difficult for any eavesdroppers to make out what he was saying. Tarkannans didn't take kindly to foreign interference in the affairs of their nobility. For that matter, Henrik wasn't pleased to learn that Conti had been so instrumental in starting the trouble with Gavril in the first place. For a moment Henrik considered holding it against Conti, but Henrik already had too many enemies in Kubara to add another one. Besides, the man clearly had a mercenary heart, not a malicious one. He hadn't backed Gavril out of spite for Danijela, merely the opportunity to profit. Now that Gavril was Lord Marshal, and seemingly allied with King Radoslav again, it wasn't clear where Conti stood. Realizing this, Henrik felt a burst of inspiration. He may be fighting against a tide, but there were still things he could do to advance his interests. “You know, the port fees and shipping taxes that you hoped to avoid are not set by Radoslav himself.”

“What do you mean?” Conti asked, his attention suddenly sharpening. Apparently matters of coin were enough to rally his strength against the many drinks he had consumed.

“Count Evgeny, the Lord Treasurer, controls all of it. Radoslav doesn't care about who pays the taxes and how, as long as Evgeny brings in the gold. Evgeny sets the taxes and fees to favor Old Harbor over Torzano because the Old Harbor proctors make deals directly with the noble landholders here. Evgeny only cares about the nobility, not the smaller merchant houses that your ships deal with. You pay all the taxes, they take all the profit.”

Conti seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “So this Evgeny is the one I need to work on?”

Torzani were notorious for the way they played games of influence. Could Henrik make this man an ally against Evgeny? It would certainly be preferable to report that to Danijela than to report only Evgeny's opposition. “I think you'll find that Evgeny is beyond manipulation. He leads tax men the way Gavril leads armies. He is ruthless and implacable. He already controls all the coin of the realm. He can't be bought.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Henrik looked around, making doubly sure that no one could overhear. “If Evgeny were to be replaced with someone that favored merchants over the nobility, I imagine that the taxes and fees would become much more favorable toward Torzano.”

Conti took a moment to consider that. “Ignatio told me not to try to empower a new king, but he didn't say anything about a new Lord Treasurer. Do you have someone in mind?”

“I think you'll find that the Liatians have a much more enlightened view of commerce than anyone in Tarkannan. I myself have learned much from them, about how the nobility shouldn't have a stranglehold on wealth.”

“So you wish to take his place?”

“I only offer it as a suggestion. The real trick, I think, would be to displace Evgeny. He is old and wily, and has one of the sharpest minds in the kingdom. I wouldn't have the first idea how to move against him.”

Conti gave Henrik a knowing smile. “You leave that to me. I am Torzani, you know."