Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [66]
Cortes Andres, Aarenis
Jeddrin, Count of Andressat and the South Marches, sat in the cool of his loggia on the east side of his residence, overlooking the walls of Cortes Andres. He had a fine view of the pastures where his horses grazed, steep vineyards, and the walls of a village clinging to the slope, its white walls gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Though the day had been hot, on this side of the house he had a little breeze, and the damp cloths his servants had hung chilled the air just enough to make it pleasant.
He had been up at dawn, as always, for a Count of Andressat (as he said daily to his sons and grandsons) must be diligent if he was to do the best for his people. He had duties, not merely privileges; it was in the performance of such duties that a true nobleman distinguished himself from pretenders, those who thought wealth alone or power could make gold from lead by painting it yellow. Ruling—ruling well—could never be easy, and was less easy now, though he had hoped—believed—that with Siniava gone, it would be easier.
He had claimed the South Marches, the cities of Cha and Sibili that Siniava had ruled so badly, and at first this security on his southern border gave them all confidence. His son-in-law Narits governed Cha; his son Ferran governed Sibili. That should have given Andressat direct access to the Immerhoft trade, but he had recurring problems with Confaer, the only port he’d captured, and pirates controlled the island that lay in the harbor’s throat like a stone. Andressat wine and Andressat wool piled up in the warehouses of Confaer, easy prey for thieving gangs—pirates ashore allied with pirates afloat. None of the allies of Siniava’s War had the resources or will to help him clean out the other port cities or the island towns.
Other problems had arisen, as well. Duke Phelan had allied with Alured the Black in Siniava’s War to gain unhindered passage through the southern forests and so outmaneuver Siniava’s army and pin them at last. Alured now claimed the title of Duke of Immer and moreover claimed it was his by birthright, not merely conquest.
That led everyone the Count knew to ask him, for he was known as a genealogist, possessor of the most complete archives of Aarenisian families and their relationships, whether Alured’s claim could possibly be true. Jeddrin was sure it was not, for Alured had none of the qualities of nobility.
The man had been a pirate from nobody knew where, had made a reputation at sea, then—for no reason anyone knew—had come ashore and begun gathering a force in the great southern forest that lay between the Immer valley and the Chaloquay drainage. Phelan had befriended him and used him in Siniava’s War, but Phelan was—had been—he had thought Phelan was—merely a northern duke, whose title reflected nothing of blood or bone.
And now Phelan was shown to have had royal blood after all, royal and elven, and he had treated the man as a mere mercenary captain. Well, that was done and he could not undo it, but he did not want to make any mistakes about this new Duke of Immer.
Now, having brought up another stack of documents from the family archives, he spread them on the table and began looking them over.
He ran his eye down the pages of a bound book—very old, the leather binding flaking away; he preferred scrolls—recording the yields of wheat and the produce of vineyards in a time before his father’s father’s father’s father. Rainfall records, damaging storms: the same kinds of records he himself kept. Nothing in that one about families, politics, or even trade. He put it aside for a stack of flat sheets tied with a ribbon faded gray from its original color; it had left marks on the outer pages. He turned them one by