“And tax levies are on land,” Ferlyn finished. “So the High Holders are going to be squeezed two ways.”
“Three,” suggested Chassendri. “Conditions will get worse on some of the holdings, not all, because most of the High Holders actually manage their lands well, but workers on the poorly managed lands will leave. They’ll either work for the free-holders or get conscripted. More High Holders will fall to debts, and their lands will be split between successful High Holders and free-holders, but in the end there will be more free-holders and fewer High Holders.”
I could see that, but I didn’t see it happening that quickly. “Won’t that take time?”
“There are at least fifty High Holders who are so land-poor that were they businesses, they’d be close to bankruptcy,” replied Chassendri.
“But they could sell their lands, or part of them, and besides,” Ferlyn pointed out, “there are hundreds of High Holders.”
“More than a thousand,” said Chassendri cheerfully, “one thousand and forty-one High Holdings, to be precise.”
Something . . . there was something. Then I had it, an obscure section of the compact that had created the Council. “The rebalancing provisions. The High Holders would lose a Council seat, probably to the factors, and the head of the Council would no longer be a High Holder.”
“But . . . the High Holders could just split a few holdings up, couldn’t they?” asked Ferlyn. “To keep the numbers above a thousand.”
“They could,” Chassendri pointed out.
Left unspoken was the point that few High Holders ever willingly let go of anything.
Those thoughts put a damper on matters, especially since we were close to being done with breakfast anyway, and I had another concern as well-Shault.
He looked so forlorn that as soon as I swallowed the last drops of my tea, I rose and walked over to the long table that held the primes and the seconds and said to him, “I’ll need a few moments with you after you’re done eating. I’ll meet you by the doors.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then I just stood there for a moment and let my eyes run down the table, face by face, before I turned and walked away, slowly, listening.
“. . . one you don’t want to cross . . .”
I wondered about that, because I’d never done anything harsh to any of the primes or seconds, except for Diazt and Johanyr. I didn’t have to wait long before Shault hurried out of the dining hall, his thin face pinched in worry.
“Sir?”
“I take it that there’s a second who’s giving everyone trouble, maybe from the taudis? More than likely, he’s even suggesting to you that you need to do what he wants, or something will happen to you or someone else.”
Shault’s mouth started to drop open, but he closed it with a snap.
“Have you ever heard of Diazt or Artazt?” I asked.
“No, sir.”
“Diazt was a second here. His brother Artazt was a taudischef in the hellhole. They’re both dead.” I paused. “Right now, there are two things you need to know. First, no one will rescue you from being pushed around unless you study and work hard and unless you do your best to learn everything you can about imaging. Second, in time, things happen to bullies here at the Collegium.” I paused. “Why do you think I’m telling you this?”
The poor prime shivered. I just waited.
“So I know it will get better? Sir . . . will it get better?”
I offered as gentle a smile as I could. “It will, but it won’t be easy. You have more imaging ability than most primes and even some seconds, but you haven’t had enough book education. Do you have someone helping you to read better?”
“Yes, sir. Mayra and Lieryns are helping me.”
“Good. That’s important.” I paused. “One other thing. No student imager is allowed to harm another. That doesn’t mean there won’t be threats, or other nasty things. No one has actually hurt you physically, have they?”
“No, sir.”
His response was firm enough and without hesitation that I believed him.
“Keep that in mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” As I left him, I wished I could do more for him, but that would only make matters worse. The way I’d approached him would certainly not have let the others think he was getting any favors. But Master Dichartyn had told me that I needed to talk to him at least twice a week, and he certainly had raw talent, more than I’d had at his age, and I couldn’t help but hope that he’d be able to become at least a third in time. I was also pleased that Lieryns was helping. I’d always liked Lieryns.
At eighth glass I was in my studio, after trudging through a rain that showed little sign of dissipating. While I was waiting, I’d checked the small storeroom that held an assortment of unused items and found a fairly solid and flat crate that I hoped no one would mind my borrowing. At slightly past the hour, in walked Master Rholyn.
“I apologize for being late, Rhennthyl, but Master Poincaryt wasn’t that precise in explaining where your studio was, especially for someone coming from the north quarters.”
I’d assumed that Master Rholyn was married and living in one of the separate gray stone dwellings for senior imagers situated on the north end of Imagisle, but I hadn’t known for certain. I smiled. “I barely knew whose portrait I’d be painting next. Master Poincaryt just indicated that I should be here.”
“He can be terse to the point of being cryptic,” replied Master Rholyn. “One reason Master Poincaryt decided you should paint my portrait is not only your present duty, but your past duty as well. Before we get into that, should I sit there?” He gestured to the chair.
“Not for a moment, sir. I’d like to ask a question. I didn’t often observe the Council. When you speak to the entire Council or to the Executive Council, do you remain seated at your desk or do you stand?”
“In open discussion, councilors remain seated. To offer a motion, one stands.”
“Then I will portray you standing.” I carried the low crate over next to the chair. “If you’d put one foot . . . the one you’d use if you stood that way . . .”
“Rhennthyl . . . you know the chamber floor is flat.”
“Yes, sir, but not if you were making a motion to the High Council.” I paused. “I realize that’s unlikely, but it’s perhaps more politic.”
He laughed. “Did Master Poincaryt suggest that?”
“No, sir, but if I didn’t do it that way, he might.”
Rholyn shook his head, then stepped forward and took the position.
“Look a touch to the right . . . please.” I began to draw in the details on the design I’d already started.
After a time, I had him sit down for a bit while I worked on some of the angles, but I couldn’t help asking, “Do you think the Council will actually declare war on Ferrum, sir?”
“No one really wants Solidar in a war, even the High Holders, but it’s looking less and less likely that we can avoid it. Ferrum will use any pretext to try to obtain the iron and coal mines near the Jariolan border, and their army is large and well trained and equipped enough that any attempt to invade by us would be a bloodbath on both sides. Even if Jariola put all its efforts into attacking Ferrum, and we were able to blockade the Ferran ports, it could devastate both Ferrum and Jariola.”
“So the strategy is likely to stall and negotiate and try to avoid all-out war until the covert field operatives can find a way to persuade Ferrum not to attack?”
Master Rholyn shook his head sadly. “Even if your assumptions were correct, accomplishing a change in Ferran policy would still be difficult, because all those who have power in Ferrum think alike, and the number of illnesses, accidents, and deaths necessary to change the collective political mind of the Ferran Assembly would be so noticeable that it would unite everyone against us.”
That, unfortunately, made sense, and I had to wonder what the Collegium might be able to do against such a united opposition with a mere handful of talented covert field operatives.