Simon Hawke - The Outcast

“The templars have never tried to hinder you in that regard,” Timor replied. “In fact, we have cooperated with this new government to the fullest extent of our abilities. However, you cannot expect to overturn a long-standing institution without encountering some difficulties. You will remember that I cautioned you about this. I warned you that freeing the slaves would wreak havoc with the merchants and disrupt law and order in the city, but your thoughts were on your lofty principles, rather than pragmatic considerations. Now you reap the results of your ill-considered actions.”

“What we reap are the results of centuries of oppression by Kalak and his templars,” Rikus said angrily. He pointed at the senior templar. “You and the parasites who make up the nobility have grown fat on the blood of slaves. I find it hard to sympathize with you for wishing you had all your slaves back.”

“Much as I hate to contradict one of the heroes of the revolution,” Timor said sarcastically, “the fact is that I, personally, have no wish for my former slaves to be slaves again. My household slaves have always been well cared for, and they have all chosen to stay on as my servants rather than plunge into the maelstrom of uncertainty you have created for the other former slaves of Tyr.”

“They have chosen to stay on with you?” asked Rikus, frowning.

“And why not? I pay good wages, as the new edict demands. The added expense is easily offset by what I charge them for their room and board.”

“In other words, nothing has changed for them,” said Rikus with disgust. “You pay their wages with one hand, then collect the money back for rent with the other. They are still no better than slaves.”

“I beg to disagree,” protested Timor, raising his eyebrows. “They are merely experiencing the economics of freedom. As slaves, they were my property, and I was obliged to care for them. As freemen, they are free to come and go as they choose, and I am obliged only to pay them for the work they perform. I am not obliged to house them, and there is nothing to prevent them from seeking cheaper accommodations in the warrens. However, they seem to prefer the comfort and safety of the templars’ quarter to the crime-ridden and pestilential conditions they would encounter elsewhere in the city. Since I am offering them superior accommodations, I feel it is not unreasonable that I charge for them accordingly. In fact, I am being more than fair. I do not charge them any more than what they can afford to pay.”

“Trust a templar to find a loophole in the law,” Rikus said contemptuously.

“Enough,” Sadira said firmly. “While I cannot condone Timor’s self-serving rationalizations, they nevertheless underscore a valid point. We had not given enough thought to how the city would be affected by outlawing slavery, and we are now paying the price for that oversight. The question now before the council is how to remedy the situation. Granting homesteading rights to the former slaves in Kalak’s fields outside the city has not addressed the problem adequately. Many are not taking advantage of the opportunity, but even if they did, there would not be enough fertile land for all of them. And among those who have established homesteads, we have already seen disputes over water rights and boundaries and rights of way.

“We still have scores of former slaves in the city who are beggars on the street. Riots in the warrens, as well as in the elven market, have become common, and they are spreading to other sections of the city. The mobs are growing large enough to intimidate the soldiers, and if these uprisings continue, fewer traders will come to the city. They have already started joining caravans to Urik, instead. We have survived one war with Urik only to be plunged into another—a war of trade. If our treasury dwindles further while Urik’s grows, it shall not be long before they are strong enough to attack us once again.”

“The way things have been going, they may not have to,” Timor said wryly. “The people will simply open up the gates and let them in.”

“Never!” Rikus said. “Not after all they have suffered to see the end of Kalak’s tyranny!”

“For the moment, perhaps, you enjoy the people’s support,” said Timor, “but do not count on it overmuch. The people have short memories, and the mob is fickle. The heroes who killed Kalak will very soon become the council members who have brought the city to ruin, and the mob that once cheered you will start howling for your heads.”

“And I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?” asked Rikus through gritted teeth.

“I?” said Timor. “You mistake me, Councilman. I bear you no malice or ill will. Remember that I, too, sit upon the council, and if the mob starts howling for your head, they shall call for mine, as well. I might also add that it would hardly be in my best interests if this government should fail and Tyr falls prey to Urik. As one of Kalak’s former templars, I would be among the very first to be executed by King Hamanu.”

“Thus far, we have heard a litany of things we have done wrong,” Sadira said. “We have yet to hear any suggestions from the templars as to what we can do right.”

The other council members nodded and muttered in agreement. None of them appeared to have any constructive suggestions to offer, and they would just as soon see that burden fall on the templars.

“As it happens, I do have a few modest proposals,” Timor replied.

“I can well imagine what they are,” Rikus muttered.

“Let him speak, Rikus,” said Councilman Kor. “We cannot judge these proposals until we hear them.”

“Thank you,” Timor said, bowing his head slightly. “My first proposal is that we institute a tariff on all farm produce brought into the city.”

“What? More taxes?” Rikus said with disbelief. “That is your solution? We need to stimulate trade, not drive farmers away from our markets!”

“To stimulate trade, we must first take steps to stop unfair competition,” Timor said. “Former slaves who homestead outside our city walls and grow crops to feed the citizenry will be exempt from this tariff. In this way, they will be able to market their produce more cheaply than the fanners who bring in produce from the outlying areas. It will ensure a ready market for the homesteaders and add incentive for others to take part in the program. And the profits the homesteaders make will enable them to employ laborers, which will cut down on the ranks of beggars in the city.”

“What about the farmers who bring produce to our markets from the outlying areas?” asked Sadira.

“They shall have to settle for a lesser profit,” Timor said, “or else market their produce elsewhere.”

“They can simply choose to lower their prices enough to compete with locally grown produce,” Councilman Dargo said.

“If the tariff is sufficiently high, they shall find themselves unable to compete with the homesteaders,” Timor replied. “Besides, why should we concern ourselves with them? They have been growing fat from their profits in our marketplaces, and in the absence of local competition, they have been able to control the prices, which has driven up the cost of food here in the city. The tariff would not only stimulate crop production, it would bring about lower prices for produce, and thereby lower the price of meals at food stalls and at the city’s inns and taverns. That is something the people would certainly support.”

“The idea has merit,” said Sadira thoughtfully. “However, you neglect the fact that there is still not enough fertile land to go around:”

“There is more than enough to make the city self-sufficient in terms of farm-grown produce,” Timor said. “And it is only fitting that those who had the foresight and industriousness to take advantage of the program first receive the greater rewards. For those who have delayed in taking advantage of the program, there will still be jobs as laborers on the homestead farms, once they start to make a profit. Or else they can take advantage of our second proposal, which will create a new program to address the very issue you just raised.