David Drake - Tyrant

It was almost as if the man understood that Demansk brought his own ruin in his train. Which, indeed, he did. If Demansk was successful, the status of the Emeralds would undergo a dramatic improvement. Not least of all, because Demansk would eradicate the long-standing evil of the Confederacy's system of tax collection — which, in practice if not in theory, relied on men like Governor Willech to make it work.

Willech, lounging on a couch across the room from Demansk, was a small and wiry man. Hard-faced, tight-featured, and surprisingly fit for a man who made his fortune with abacus and weighing scales rather than a plow or a sword. True, he resembled the popular image of a "tax shark." But Demansk thought it would have been more appropriate if Willech had sported a large, sleek, tapered and finned body — with a wide and whiskered face consisting mostly of jaws and teeth. Just like the breed of sea predators whom the Emeralds, using an ancient word whose original meaning was long lost, called a "shark."

"I'm afraid I can't agree to that, Justiciar Demansk." Willech's words, like his face, were clipped and hard. "One regiment, certainly; perhaps two. But four ? That would leave me only two regiments in the entire province. Riot and rebellion would be the certain result."

Demansk did not reply immediately. He returned the little man's stare with a hard stare of his own, allowing Willech time to let his hidden uncertainty mount. And his fears.

Willech had been one of the main creditors of the traitor Redvers, who had led the Confederacy's most recent attempted coup d'etat because the only way he and his cohorts had seen to avert bankruptcy was to usurp state power and repudiate their debts. Demansk had played the key role in crushing that insurrection. And while most people would assume that such men as Willech would be grateful to him for it, the reality was much more complicated.

True, had Redvers and his co-conspirators achieved their aim, Willech would have been ruined — and, most likely, murdered in the bargain. On the other hand. .

Redvers' property, as was traditionally the penalty for treason, had been confiscated by the Confederate government. And while some of the money obtained from liquidating what few assets Redvers still had left had been handed over to the creditors, most of it had disappeared into the coffers of the officials charged with overseeing the liquidation. Officials who were every bit as greedy and corrupt as Redvers himself — and Willech — if not as impecunious.

Demansk fought down a harsh grin. He didn't doubt for a moment that Willech assumed that he had swindled a fair share of the Redvers estate. Which, as it happened, was not true. Demansk was one of the few officials in the Confederate government who relied on the workings of his own estates for his fortune.

That, and the merchant establishments and manufactories which Demansk had begun investing in several years earlier, once he came to realize that agriculture alone was a risky basis for maintaining a family fortune. Of course, he'd been careful to use an elaborate network of "cutouts" for the purpose. Partly to protect his investments against his many enemies in the officialdom, but mostly because Vanbert custom did not allow a nobleman to engage in anything as low and disreputable as manufacturing and trade.

Unless, of course, it was the trade in slaves arising from conquest. Over the years, Demansk had augmented his fortune considerably from that particular trade. Like any successful military commander, slaves were part of his booty. But, even as a young man, it had struck him odd that the most savage and bestial of all forms of trade should be the only one acceptable to the Confederate elite. Looking back on it from the perspective of middle age, he thought it was that experience which first began sowing the seeds of doubt in his mind as to the health of his own society.

* * *

He decided he'd allowed enough time to lapse in these idle ruminations. When he spoke, his voice was even more clipped and hard than Willech's.

"That's Triumvir Demansk, Governor Willech, and I trust I won't have to remind you of it again. The penalties for disrespect to state officials are severe." As in mutilation for a first offense, he left unspoken. Even though, in practice, a nobleman like Willech would rarely suffer that penalty — not for a first offense — it remained a possibility. More than a few of the noblemen who had been distantly connected with the Redvers rebellion were walking around today with their left arms ending at their wrists rather than their fingertips.

"As for the danger of rebellion," he continued harshly, "that is your problem, not mine. I am charged with the task of conquering the Western Isles — a martial feat which has never been accomplished in the history of the Confederacy. You, on the other hand, are charged with the simple task of maintaining public order in a province — something which any competent governor can manage easily with a bit of thought and effort."

He rose to his feet. Unlike Willech, he had been sitting erect on his couch, and could thus rise easily and quickly. An old soldier's habit, that. "I will also remind you that, not so many years ago, I was the governor of this very province. And I managed to keep order, with no difficulty at all, using only two regiments."

Willech's face was like a nut, now, hard and wrinkled. Demansk gave him a smile which ended just short of a sneer.

"Of course, I used those troops to check the worst depredations of the tax farmers. Instead of using them to enforce outright robbery. I dare say you'll have the same success, if you adopt my methods."

Willech's face, as impossible as it seemed, tightened even further. But he said nothing.

What was there to say? Since becoming governor of the province three years earlier, Willech had attempted to extricate himself from his bad loans by squeezing the Emeralds mercilessly. It was an open secret that Governor Willech was taking a cut from every tax farmer in the northern province. That was illegal, under Confederate law. But, for several generations now, Demansk had been one of the few governors to obey that law. The main attraction to becoming a governor nowadays, in fact, was that the post allowed just such chicanery. The modern Vanbert aristocracy, most of whose members couldn't tell one end of a pig from the other, raised taxes the same way their ancestors raised swine.

Not even that, really. No swineherd was stupid enough to think that the way to get rich was to starve his pigs.

Demansk realized that Willech was going to remain silent. Not saying anything was, ultimately, the last resort the governor had. If he said "no," he would be in open rebellion. Demansk had enough of his own troops in Solinga now to crush all six of Willech's regiments — even assuming they would obey the Governor, which was highly doubtful. And if he said "yes," he would be officially acquiescing to Demansk's demand.

Demansk decided he could live with the silence. By the time Willech could even begin to figure out a way to circumvent Demansk's plans, it would be too late anyway. Unlike the Governor, the Triumvir was popular with the army. And he knew already which four regiments he was going to select. The best, naturally, with the best officers. The commanders of three of those four regiments were former protégés of his, in fact, and he'd already spoken to them privately.

So, matching silence with silence, he turned on his heel and marched out of the Governor's private audience chamber. He even closed the door himself on his way out, before a slave could do so. Partly, because he thought a formal display of politeness was to his advantage. Mostly, because he wanted to test the door a bit — in case it proved necessary to come back through it at the head of a squad of soldiers.