Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [11]
“No offense taken,” Kieri said. “You’re quite right. Armies must be fed, clothed, and paid—they don’t come cheap. Some changes we must make, and I agree that better roads is a good place to start. Where would you put the roads?”
“We can’t do a thing about the southern trade road once it’s in the Ladysforest,” Chalvers said. “We’ll likely never have a trade route by land to Bannerlíth. But up to the last steading before the Ladysforest, it could be improved—bridges over the runoff streams instead of fords, for instance. And the river road or that middle road, supposing the new Verrakai duke allows, could be laid out like the Guild League roads, all-weather roads for heavy traffic.”
“Those cost a great deal,” Kieri said, thinking of what he’d been told in Aarenis. “Where would the stone come from? And the labor?”
“That’s this map, my lord,” Chalvers said, unrolling another and spreading it on top of the first. Kieri stared. Chalvers had marked the resources needed for road building: where they were, what ways led to them, and his estimate of costs. “The roads alone will pay for themselves in five years—increased trade. It’s true we don’t have the population of Tsaia or Fintha, but perhaps we could hire rockfolk—dwarves or gnomes—to cut and move the stone.” Kieri had doubts about that; he suspected the elves would not favor such a plan.
“But the real improvement—and we need the roads to make it work—is this,” Chalvers went on. He put his finger back on the first map, on the Honnorgat northeast of Chaya. “The river towns have landing places and some crude wharves, but they’re not adequate as trading ports. That’s what we need. Water travel—down the Honnorgat to the eastern sea, to Bannerlíth at least and maybe around to Aarenis—would open new markets and be cheaper transport than overland.”
“It’s a long way,” Kieri said, tracing the route with his finger. “Over the mountains, even going through Tsaia, is shorter.”
“Yes, but Tsaians take toll of everything that passes through. Downriver, no problem. Harbor fees and cargo taxes at Bannerlíth, but I know the Pargunese and Kostandanyans trade to Aarenis without stopping there.” He tapped the map again. “Look here. There’s a marshy area, a double handful of little mucky streams, not good for anything: dig it out, make it a harbor off the river. What comes out to make the harbor can build up around it to support buildings.” He looked up, grinning. “Our very own river port. Tsaian ports are all above the falls. They’d use our road to reach this port, and they’d pay us tolls. It would still be cheaper, even for them, than going overland—at least for some goods.”
“You talk to the Pargunese?” Kieri asked; that had trapped his attention.
Chalvers shrugged. “Well … yes. There’s some trade across the river—not much—but traders will talk to traders whether their rulers are friends or not. We’ve seen their seagoing ships heading downriver, loaded with furs and timber and whatnot. Salt fish, I expect. Woolen goods: their women are fine weavers.”
Another problem Kieri hadn’t anticipated. Tsaian traders, as far as he knew, had nothing to do with Pargun … but was that true? “So … you found out their routes,” he said to cover his unease.
“Yes, Sir King. Right now, merchant vessels coming north have nowhere to go but Bannerlíth and one port each for Kostandan and Pargun. Pargun doesn’t have a road from its port up above the falls, and they don’t trade much with Tsaia anyway. Southern merchants would come to us to reach markets in Tsaia and Fintha if we had a safe port and a good road up past the falls. We might even attract the Pargunese. Better to trade than fight, eh?”
Kieri just managed not to shake his head. He had hoped for a new viewpoint when he insisted on having a merchant representative on his Council, but he had not