The footman who answered the door did not admit the two visitors immediately.
“Lord Allutar was quite emphatic about it, my lord,” he told Valin. “I am to admit no one without his explicit command.”
“We have a message for him from the emperor,” Valin said, holding up the envelope.
“I can see that he gets it, my lord . . .”
“No,” Valin said, “I shall see that he receives it, directly from my own hand. I assured the coachman that I would make certain it reached its destination.”
The footman frowned. “If you would wait here, my lord?”
“Very well.”
The footman closed the door, leaving the two standing in the portico, and Anrel remarked, “You could have just handed it to the man.”
“But I prefer to see for myself that Lord Allutar receives it,” Valin replied with a smile.
Anrel shook his head. He knew perfectly well that Valin was hoping for a confrontation over Urunar’s death, and the emperor’s letter was merely an excuse.
A moment later the footman reappeared. “This way, my lord,” he said. He hesitated when Anrel followed Valin inside, then shrugged and led both of them to a small, bare room Anrel did not recall ever having seen before.
“The landgrave will join you shortly,” the footman said. Then he departed, closing the door behind him, leaving the two men alone.
Anrel glanced around, and realized there was nowhere to sit. “Lord Allutar is not exactly putting any great effort into hospitality today, is he?” he said wryly.
The room consisted of four bare stone walls, a single diamond-paned casement, a tile floor, two heavy wooden doors, and a vaulted ceiling; there were no furnishings at all. A less welcoming prospect was difficult to imagine.
“Perhaps he wants to be sure we won’t pocket the silver,” Valin answered.
Before Anrel could respond, one of the doors opened and Lord Allutar appeared. He looked tired, as if he had not slept well, and his collar was askew.
“Lord Valin,” he said. “Hollem tells me you have something of mine?”
“A message from the emperor, newly arrived on the morning stage,” Valin said, displaying the envelope. “I assured the coachman I would see that it reached you.”
“Then see that it reaches me,” Allutar said, holding out a hand.
“Of course,” Valin said, making no move to deliver the envelope. “Might I ask, though, how you feel this morning? Frankly, you do not appear to be at your best.”
“My well-being is no concern of yours, my lord,” Allutar said.
“On the contrary, my lord, I am a resident of Aulix, and you are the landgrave of Aulix. Your health is very much the concern of everyone in the province.”
Allutar gazed calmly at him. “My health is excellent, Lord Valin.”
“Then you were not troubled by cutting the still-beating heart out of a man’s chest yesterday?”
Anrel drew in his breath, but Allutar gave no sign of annoyance. The landgrave answered in calm, measured tones, “I was revolted by the experience, my lord, but I felt it necessary. I do not regret my actions.”
“And you still believe that black magic is an appropriate employment of your skills?”
“I do, my lord. My letter?”
“You felt no ill effects from the spell?”
“What I felt or did not feel is my business. The letter, please.” His outstretched hand still waited.
Valin began to say something else, but Anrel could stand it no longer. “Father and Mother, Valin, give him the blasted letter!”
Startled, Valin turned to look at his companion, and Allutar snatched the envelope from his hand. Before either Anrel or Valin could say another word, he tore it open and pulled out the letter inside. He read it quickly—Anrel could see that there were only a few lines of text.
Allutar frowned. He held the paper up to the light from the casement. “It appears genuine,” he said.
“The possibility of fraud had not occurred to me,” Valin said.
“That does not surprise me,” Allutar retorted. He looked Valin in the eye. “Have you read it?”
Valin lifted his chin haughtily. “I am not in the habit of reading the private correspondence of others,” he said.
“No, you are in the habit of sitting in wineshops in Naith and holding forth on subjects of which you know nothing,” Allutar retorted. “However, one can occasionally do things other than the habitual.”
Stung, Valin drew himself up to his full height. “I delivered the letter still sealed,” he said. “Unopened and unread.”
“You claim to be a sorcerer,” Allutar said. “Any magician worthy of the name could have restored the seal after reading this.”
“I give you my word I did not,” Valin said coldly.
“Then you do not know what it says?”
“I do not.”
Allutar stared at Valin for a moment, then shrugged. “You will know soon enough; I might as well tell you, though it will undoubtedly please you.”
“I doubt anything you might say would please me,” Valin replied.
“But it is the emperor who says this, my lord. He has changed his mind again, and put an end to the confusion regarding the makeup of the Grand Council.”
“Oh?”
“In the interests of avoiding strife, he says, he commands that every landgrave, every margrave, and every burgrave shall appoint a single representative to the Grand Council, in conference with the other nobles in his demesne.”
“That hardly pleases me,” Valin said.
“Nor did I think otherwise,” Allutar said. “But he likewise commands that the commoners in each jurisdiction shall elect one of their own number, so that fully one-half the council will be commoners, chosen by commoners.” He flung the letter at Valin. “See for yourself.”
Valin caught the letter and turned it. He read hastily.
“How are these elections to be managed, my lord?” Anrel asked. “Is that set forth?”
“No, it is not,” Allutar said. “I am to use whatever means I find at my discretion to be sure that each male head of household shall have the opportunity to cast a vote, but what means those might be, or how the candidates are to be chosen, is not mentioned.” He smiled. “Perhaps this is not as pleasant for Lord Valin as I first thought; it would appear to me to be within my authority to choose the candidates for whom the people will be permitted to vote.”
“Naturally, that would occur to you,” Valin said, looking up from the letter.
“I believe I am generally cognizant of how best to defend my own interests, yes.”
“And you see nothing reprehensible about asserting your own authority regardless of the cost to others, do you?”
“Lord Valin, my own interests are likewise the interests of all Aulix, and indeed of all Walasia. I would much prefer to be landgrave of a prosperous and happy province, rather than lording over a cowed and starving populace. I think it better to live in an empire that is flourishing than one in decline. I take no pleasure in the suffering of others; on the contrary, it pains me to observe it, and so I act to prevent it where possible. If this sometimes means that I must harm an individual for the good of the community, I do so, much as I would choose to suffer the pain of extracting a splinter over the possibility of infection. What is reprehensible in that?”
“You see nothing wrong in refusing others the freedom to speak for themselves?”
“When they would speak foolishly and to their own detriment? Indeed, I do not.”
“You will not allow the commoners to choose their own representatives freely?”
“What do commoners know of governance? They would vote for the well-spoken over the truly wise, I would think.”
“You are not so easily fooled, then?”
“I like to think I am not, my lord.”
Anrel listened to this brisk exchange with something not unlike despair. He was quite certain that neither commoners nor sorcerers had any monopoly on wisdom, nor even a sufficiency of that particular virtue, and in specific he was convinced that very few men of any station possessed the wisdom to recognize wisdom in others. These two magicians were arguing over whether the blind or the smitten were more suited to objectively judging the beauty of women.
“You are so certain of your own virtue, then?” Valin demanded.
“I am certain that the emperor saw fit to confirm me in my position as landgrave of Aulix, and that it is both my responsibility and my privilege to govern the province as I judge best. Whether that is how the commoners would judge best does not trouble me; let their grandchildren say whether I governed poorly or well, when time has shown the consequences of my actions.”
“Time, my lord, will undoubtedly show that you lacked the imagination to help guide the empire into a new era of equality, liberty, and glory. Don’t you see that if the commoners are given a voice, they will be inspired to greater things? They have hearts and minds that could be put to the service of the empire, but because they have no magic we tell them, no, you are nothing, you are the dirt beneath our heels, to be trodden upon as we please, and you can never be anything more. If we allowed them the opportunity to rise above their present station, we would in all probability encourage them to heights we cannot now imagine!”
“I hardly think that commoners are so disheartened as you seem to believe, Lord Valin. Have you ever seen the homes of the great merchants and bankers in Lume? They are flourishing without being permitted any voice in government.”
“But they could do so much more!”
Allutar spread his hands. “Have you the slightest shred of evidence to support this claim? If a commoner has it in him to create some magnificent enterprise, then what would stop him from creating it?”
“The fear that he might be seen as a threat, and be called a criminal, perhaps accused of trespassing or theft with no witness but the man who has the power to decide his guilt and order him executed.”
“Valin!” Anrel said warningly.
Allutar did not reply; he stared balefully at Valin for a moment, then snatched the paper from his hands and turned away. “You have delivered the emperor’s letter,” he said. “Hollem will see you out.”
Valin started to protest, but Anrel held him back as Allutar strode out of the room and slammed the door behind himself.
“Valin,” Anrel said, “you came near to accusing the landgrave of perjury and murder.”
“Did I?” Valin spat on the floor. “And what if he is a perjurer and murderer? Should I say nothing?”
“You have no evidence to support such a claim.” He glanced at the closed door. “I like Lord Allutar no more than you do, but he has all the law and custom on his side, and you have no evidence that he has done anything outside his authority.”
“I do not acknowledge his authority to kill a man for no reason.”
“He had a reason, Valin. He had two—Urunar Kazien was a thief, and Lord Allutar needed a sacrifice for his spell. Either one would suffice under the law. I do not even mention other crimes of which Master Kazien was accused, but which were never proven to the landgrave’s satisfaction.”
“I do not see those reasons as even remotely sufficient,” Valin proclaimed defiantly.
“All the emperors, from the first through the current incumbent, would disagree with you, my lord. Landgraves have the power of life and death over the commoners in their provinces.”
“That does not make it right, Anrel.”
Anrel sighed. “I might find it easier to support you in this had Master Kazien been a better person—”
He might have said more, but the door opened and the footman reappeared. “This way, please,” he said.
The two visitors followed him silently back to the front door; they had both stepped outside when the footman leaned over and said, “A moment, Master Murau.”
Valin turned, curious.
“A personal matter, sir,” the footman said. “Could I see you inside, for just a moment?”
Anrel hesitated, and glanced at Valin.
“Just you, sir,” the footman said. “I’m afraid Lord Allutar has made it plain that Lord Valin is not welcome in this house.”
“Shall I wait for you?” Valin asked.
“No,” Anrel said. “Go on without me. I’ll be along shortly.”
Valin nodded, and walked away. For a second or two Anrel watched him go; then he shrugged and followed the footman back inside.
Lord Allutar was waiting in the foyer.
“My lord,” Anrel said, unsurprised. He bowed.
“Master Murau,” Allutar replied.
“I take it, my lord, that it was you, rather than the estimable Hollem, who wished a word with me in private?”
“Indeed.” Allutar frowned. “I remember you as a boy, Master Murau, and I did not think much of you then, but it seems to me you have grown up considerably during your four years in Lume. Your uncle has told me that your professors spoke well of you in their letters reporting your progress, and your academic performance was, by all accounts, excellent. You seem to me to have become a young man of considerable sense—unlike your friend.”
“You flatter me, my lord.”
“False modesty does not become you, Master Murau.”
“Then I will merely thank you for the observation, my lord. I hope you’re right.”
“I hope so, as well. Right or wrong, that assessment is why I choose to give you this warning, rather than addressing it directly to Lord Valin. I believe he would take it as a challenge, whereas you may see that it is nothing of the sort.”
“Warning, my lord?”
“To date, I have restrained myself for several reasons—a general desire to avoid strife, my respect for your uncle, and to avoid displeasing your cousin, to name three. I am telling you now, though, that your friend Lord Valin has pushed me to the limits of my toleration. You heard him a few minutes ago, when he all but called me a liar to my face.”
“I did,” Anrel admitted.
“He is obsessed with this Urunar Kazien. He doubts his guilt—but he has not even asked about the facts of the case. Lord Valin’s claim that there were no witnesses is baseless and offensive. I do not deign to explain myself to him, but perhaps you might explain to him that he is in error. It was not I who caught Master Kazien stealing herbs from my garden; it was my gardener, Guldim li-Forsha. An examination of the Kazien family bakery discovered a large cache of my herbs—it seems Darith Kazien has been using them in his herb bread for some time. I could have had the entire family put to death; I did not. Nor was this the first complaint against Urunar Kazien; he has previously been accused more than once of grievous assault, but there was insufficient evidence in every prior instance. I may be a tyrant, sir, but I am not an arbitrary tyrant, nor am I merciless. I would thank you to convey this to your companion.”
“I will try, my lord.”
“I trust you will succeed, Master Murau, because I warn you now that despite my love for Lord Dorias, and my hopes for Lady Saria, I will not tolerate any further insolence from your uncle’s erstwhile apprentice. If he troubles me further, there will be dire consequences.”
Anrel hesitated.
“Is there something you would say, Master Murau?”
“My lord,” Anrel said, “even if Val—Lord Valin abandons the case of the late Urunar Kazien, you and he have many other disagreements, as well. From your comment a few moments ago I take it you are aware that he has become a radical populist, and holds forth on politics in the taverns and squares of Naith in much the same fashion he spoke to you today. I think it possible he will come to your attention further on this account, and I hope you will not consider this to be intended to disturb you, in particular.”
“His intention is not at issue, Master Murau. I can forgive a certain amount of youthful idealism, but there are very definite limits to that amount, especially in times as uncertain as these.”
“I am sure it is indeed just youthful folly, my lord, and that nothing will come of it.”
“See that it does not, Master Murau.”
“I will do my best to restrain him, my lord.”
“I have quite enough to concern me as it is, Master Murau—crop failures in the Raish Valley, this Grand Council that will most probably require an extended stay in Lume, petty crime in a dozen villages, and crimes more than petty in the streets of Naith. I am not looking for ways to busy myself at your friend’s expense, but neither am I oversupplied with patience at present. Do I make myself clear?”
“You do, my lord, and I thank you for the warning.”
“Do your best to make him heed it.”
“I will do what I can, my lord, but Lord Valin has his own mind.”
“I will not hold you personally to account should my warnings be ignored; you need not trouble yourself about that. It is only Lord Valin who is at risk, so far.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“That will be all, then.” He turned away.
“Thank you,” Anrel said again, as Hollem opened the door to usher him out.
And then he was standing in the portico as the door closed in his face.
He shuddered, and turned to hurry after Valin.