Page 46 of Elvenbred

Haldeen shrugged. “Just street gossip.”

The Lord High Provisioner shook his head …. “Doesn’t know the half of it. All are sworn to secrecy. A Source failed completely. The ambient magic drained away, the guardwall went down, and Predators got into the city. It’s bad. The farms are completely gone, and the Central Granary apparently burned in some kind of secondary fire. There is going to be an assessment to send food, blankets, relief supplies to Citrine, or what’s left of it. Quotas are going up.”

Haldeen swore. “Pelias, we still haven’t answered the last assessment.”

The High Lord nodded wearily. “I know. The king knows. But, we’re stuck. We’re all stuck. This isn’t some back of beyond hamlet that we can ignore and let die. This is Citrine.”

“How much?” Haldeen asked.

“Ten percent … on top of the last assessment. All the Jeweled cities agreed.”

Haldeen rubbed his forehead. “All right. Any other good news?”

“Yes,” Pelias replied. “Black mold, found in Erthord’s assessment. Unclear if he thought he could slip it past, or if he was just sloppy. Contaminated several hundred bricks. He’s being made to make good on it. He’s ruined. King’s taking his land, titles, everything. He’s to be turned out of the city if he can’t beg, borrow, or steal the rations.”

Haldeen felt his stomach lurch. “Thank you for the warning. We’ll be careful.”

Pelias gave him a tight grin. “Council meeting. Third past noon. The king is in a mood, so don’t be late. Says the meetings go daily until progress picks up.” Another rictus-grin. “Time for me to spread good cheer elsewhere.” His face vanished from the ’Speaker, leaving the tracery of lines as the last of the magic dissipated.

Haldeen’s sense of well-being completely evaporated. He left the Farspeaker room, closing the door behind him. He went into the large outer office and rang the bell for a messenger. Something of his urgency must have communicated through the bell-pull as the fellow appeared before the pull had stopped swaying.

Haldeen made no effort at politeness. “Overseer. Now.”

He tried to work out the math … so many workers, so many ration bricks, so much algae and other feedstock … the constant temptation to cut corners. The heavy punishments to fall once the cheater got caught … as they inevitably were.

He had worked out a few rough numbers when the Overseer entered. Haldeen could see by his expression that he already knew the broad outlines, if not perhaps not the exact details.

“Where do we stand?” Haldeen asked.

“Rumor is another tithe? Another 10 percent?” the Overseer asked.

“You’re well informed,” Haldeen replied, though it was the Overseer’s job to remain so. “Can we cover it?”

The Overseer glanced up and away, doing the numbers in his head. “Only barely. It will leave us short for the King’s Portion at the end of the month.”

“Can we hire more? Better rewards? Nice Lord’s House … all that.”

The Overseer shook his head …. “No one to hire, m’lor. Everyone’s in the same boat … midlevel magic … anyone who can turn brick-mulch into food is worth their weight in gold.” Haldeen rubbed his eyes … he’d just used a portion of his precious reserve to buy the physician’s silence.

He had an inspiration that would solve his personal food problem. “There is a rumor about black mold. Made it into a Lord’s assessment. Ruined a bunch of other bricks. Draw me 10 rations, at random, from the household stores, and bag them. I’ll take them with me when I attend the King’s Table this afternoon. An offering of food to show our rations remain uncontaminated.” He didn’t usually explain himself, but found himself running on. “Mark it as a donation for the Accounter. Go.”

Once the Overseer left he sat back down behind his desk in the outer office and took a stylus from the desk drawer. He began drafting out rescripts and making lists … the first for his meeting, the second for his next foray to the Cave. Food? Check. He didn’t make it past the one line before he found himself staring blankly at the paper. His worry flashed into anger, and into fury. He smashed the stylus down, driving it deeply into the desk. He swept all of the papers, the mage-light, the telltales, and the rest of the litter onto the floor. His rage passed quickly, leaving him drained and startled. He couldn’t say where these outbursts came from, only that they occurred more frequently, and when the pressure felt particularly overwhelming.

He collected the papers off of the ground, cleaned up the spilled ink, and started to work out what he would say … and remain silent about … during the Council meeting. Marks passed as he sat hunched over his desk until the servants delivered the sack of rations. They returned later to tell him that the king had summoned him, and a rare and precious Skydancer had been sent to collect him. He spilled his careful notes into his satchel when he left for the King’s Table, but not the rations he would never deliver. He brushed his fingers along the satchel. He would have to be careful today as he gave his report, and would have to endure the king’s frustration at the lack of progress …. Not Yet, My King … no luck on the transit. Will work night and day to make this happen. He nearly laughed at the literal truth of that promise. Expected the king would be angry about Triana, and demand to know why he hadn’t transferred her. He worked on various speeches, seeking plausible explanations or reasons for delay.

The Skydancer arrived, its iridescent wings spraying dust and small stones across the courtyard. Haldeen knew better than to keep it waiting. He quickly grabbed his cloak and his satchel, sliding the food sack into the Farspeaker Room for safekeeping. He threw his cloak around his shoulders and ran for the ’Dancer. He had barely seated himself on the passengers’ bench behind the Manipulator, when it lifted off, the wings blurring into shimmering rainbow waves and it departed the ground. Haldeen could do little except to look out of the portal and down at the city while he tried to control the anxiety that built in his stomach.

Haldeen tried to anticipate all of the questions the king might ask about Triana, expecting to find an angry king demanding to know why he still hadn’t transferred her. He needn’t have bothered. King Alliard took perfunctory reports from the Lords, and cut Haldeen off after the first few sentences of his memorized speech. “No progress, then,” Alliard said, as he interrupted. “Next.” The king had bigger issues today, and moved onto another lord, who delivered equally bad news.

Once the last of the Lords’ Reports were done, always ending with Sanitation, the king laid out the situation in Citrine in broadly the same tones that Pelias had with him over the Farspeaker. Haldeen could see the surprise on the lord’s faces as Alliard caught them on the hop with his news. They had all heard the rumors, but the grim reality matched what Pelias had sketched for Haldeen. He watched surprise morph into fear, anger, and confusion. King Alliard pressed them for answers, new ideas, anything that would turn the tide. The Lords’ answers failed to impress and Alliard’s plain, stern face glowered as each stumbled through whatever half-answers they could cobble together.

Haldeen realized only then that Pelias had warned him beforehand, and had not advised the others … giving him time to prepare. He looked at the Lord High Provisioner and raised an eyebrow. Pelias gave him a nod, and a small gesture. Later. Still, it gave him time to think.

Alliard looked at him. “Haldeen? Your turn. Give me something I can use. What would you advise?”

Haldeen took a deep breath. He had the rough bones of a plan to buy time. “We continue as we are.” He looked at the other lords. “The king has set me to conduct experiments to see if it is possible to connect to the World Gate, and perhaps restore our connection to the Exiles’ world.” Haldeen found himself speaking into absolute silence. He had the undivided attention of every person in the Council. King, lord and commoner … all centered their attention on him. “The king has ordered those experiments kept secret to avoid creating false hope, but the fall of Citrine changes the equation.”

Haldeen felt the chamber’s attention shift to Alliard, whose eyebrows had gone wide with surprise. “Go on,” the king said in a carefully controlled voice.