David Weber - How firm a foundation

The Guildhall pump had shown no signs of excessive wear, however, even though it was delivering progressively less water despite running almost constantly. So the answer had to be that the water was escaping somewhere between the inlet and the cistern, but where? A diligent search had revealed no obvious leaks, but Hainree had known there had to be one, so he’d persevered until he finally found it. What had made it so difficult was that it was quite high, yet there’d been no signs of leakage… because the break in the shaft wall had occurred where it passed through a stone wall directly adjacent to the roof drainage system. Given the intensity of the rainstorms which frequently smote Manchyr, the Guildhall’s downspouts and gutters were designed to handle a lot of water, and at the point where the break had appeared one of the main drain channels had been separated from the shaft only by a single relatively thin layer of cement. Once the shaft started leaking through the dividing cement, it had simply discharged itself down the drain, where no one ever saw it and there was no telltale seepage on any walls or gathering in the cellars.

It had also happened to be one of only two sections of the shaft which couldn’t be eyeballed in a routine inspection, which ought to have suggested something to someone, since “routine inspections” had so singularly failed to find the problem. Hainree had been forced to lower himself down the outer edge of the building, pry loose two large building blocks, and then chip his way through the drainage channel’s inch-thick wall before he could confirm his suspicions. Actually getting to the problem and fixing it had been relatively straightforward after that, although that didn’t mean it hadn’t still required plenty of hard work and sweat. In fact, he damned well deserved Grahsmahn’s praise.

“Well, I just wish more of our people tried as hard to do their jobs as you do,” the supervisor said now. “We’d be in a lot better shape, let me tell you! Not that we’re having much luck getting the budget we need out of the Regency Council.” He shook his head disgustedly. “We need someone on the Council who understands engineering problems-the kind that keep cities like Manchyr running and not just the ones that go into making newfangled weapons!”

Hainree nodded vigorously. It was one of Grahsmahn’s recurrent refrains, and the supervisor probably had a point, although Hainree’s own problems with the Regency Council focused on rather different concerns. However…

“I meant to ask you for your impression of this Empress Sharleyan,” he said, forcing himself to speak the hated name in an almost normal tone.

“I think she’s… impressive.” Grahsmahn leaned back in his chair, scratching the back of his neck, and shook his head slowly. “Somebody said she was beautiful, but me, I’m not so sure. She’s a handsome woman, I’ll give her that, but beautiful?” He shook his head again. “Too much nose, and those eyes of hers… Trust me, Bahrynd-she’s got a temper that would make a slash lizard run for cover!”

“So was she ranting and raving?” Hainree asked.

“No, no, she wasn’t.” Grahsmahn stopped scratching the back of his neck and looked up at Hainree, his eyes unfocused with memory. “In fact, that’s the reason she’s so impressive, if you ask me. It’s not natural for a young woman that age, and one who’s hated the House of Daykyn so long, to not lose her temper at a time like this. I mean, here she’s in a perfect position to hammer us after what those idiots tried to pull, and she’s cool as a cucumber. Not wishy-washy, don’t misunderstand me. I think she was madder than Shan-wei’s Hell at Craggy Hill, at least. But she didn’t scream, she didn’t shout, and she just ordered them beheaded. Didn’t have them tortured, didn’t send their family members after them on general principle, didn’t even have them hanged. Just a short, sharp appointment with an ax and it was all over.” He shook his head again. “I’ll be honest with you, Bahrynd, I can’t see the Old Prince letting them off that easy. I’d say she’s got a short way with people who cross her, but she’s not going out of her way to be any nastier about it than she has to.”

“You sound as if you actually admire her.” Hainree couldn’t quite keep the disapproval out of his voice, and Grahsmahn’s eyes refocused as the supervisor looked up at him.

“Didn’t say that,” he said a bit testily. “Mind you, I’m of the opinion we could do worse, if only her damned husband hadn’t had Prince Hektor murdered. For that matter, if young Daivyn were to come home-and assuming the Regency Council could keep his head on his shoulders when he did-I don’t think she’d go out of her way to be nasty to him, either. Not so long as he didn’t cross her, leastways.”

“Maybe.” Hainree shrugged. “And I’m no noble, or a member of Parliament, either. All the same, Master Grahsmahn, it seems to me that sooner or later there’d come a time when Prince Daivyn would have to ‘cross her’ if he was going to be true to Corisande. And from what you’re saying…”

He let his voice trail off, and Grahsmahn nodded unhappily.

“I’m inclined to think you’ve got a point,” he sighed. “Hopefully, though, it’s not anything that’s going to happen soon, and if I were young Daivyn, I’d be staying far, far away from Corisande until Mother Church gets done sorting out what’s going to happen with this Empire of Charis and Church of Charis.”

It was Hainree’s turn to nod, although he’d come to suspect Grahsmahn was at least mildly Reformist at heart himself. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t as outraged as Hainree at Sharleyan Ahrmahk’s presence here in Manchyr.

“You’re probably right,” he said. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Not really.” Grahsmahn’s expression was troubled. “I mean, I know it’s an honor and everything, but I don’t really like watching men being sentenced to death. Langhorne knows they spent long enough on the trials. If they weren’t doing their best to be sure everything was done right and proper, they sure used up a lot of time doing something else! And I didn’t hear any of them yesterday claiming they hadn’t been given a fair trial, except maybe that sorry piece of shit Barcor. But I still don’t like watching. Funny thing is, I don’t think she likes being there any better than I do!” He gave a brief laugh. “I guess she’s got even less choice about it than I do, though.”

Hainree nodded again, though he doubted “Empress Sharleyan” was as bothered by all of this as Grahsmahn seemed to think. The supervisor really didn’t have a choice, though. He was one of the randomly selected city professionals who’d been chosen to witness what happened, and attendance wasn’t optional. Sharleyan and the Regency Council seemed determined to make certain there were plenty of eyes to see-and tongues to tell-what happened to whoever dared to raise his hand against their tyranny and treason.

“Well, Master Grahsmahn,” he said now, “it may be you won’t have to be there tomorrow after all. Things can change, you know.”

“I wish it would,” Grahsmahn said feelingly, pushing his chair back and starting around the end of his desk. “I’ve got enough other things I could be doing, and like I say, I don’t like watch-”

His eyes widened in stunned horror as Hainree’s right hand came up from his side and the short, keen-edged dagger drove home at the base of his throat. His voice died in a horrible gurgle and his hands reached up, clutching at Hainree’s wrist. But the strength was flowing out of him with the flood of his blood, and Hainree twisted the blade as he drew it sideways. The flood became a torrent, and he stepped back as Grahsmahn thudded to the office floor with his eyes already glazing.