Rachel Aaron: Spirit’s End

“Very well, my lord,” Obermal continued at last, pushing a ledger toward Josef. “As I was saying, your mother, may she rest in peace, extended nearly all of Osera’s reserves preparing to meet the Empress. Our gold supply is at a critical level, and with the extensive damage to the city, especially to the docks and roads, we cannot expect to levy enough tax revenue to meet our basic obligations, much less the needs of Osera’s citizenry for repairs to the basic infrastructure required for—”

“So we’re broke,” Josef said. “Too broke to rebuild, but we can’t get money until we rebuild because everything’s too wrecked to do business.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Obermal said with a long sigh. “As I just said—”

“So how do we get money?” Josef interrupted again.

Lord Obermal stiffened. “If my lord would allow me to finish.” He waited until Josef nodded before continuing. “We have no choice but to borrow from the Council. Until the full damage reports are in, I can’t say for certain how much we’ll need, but if the numbers so far are any indication—”

“No,” Josef said, crossing his arms.

Lord Obermal blinked. “No to what, my lord?”

“No, I’m not going to go begging money from the Council,” Josef said. “Whose skin do you think we saved stopping the Empress? If it wasn’t for Osera, it’d be their houses on fire, not ours. They should be falling over themselves to help us.”

“That’s not the way the Council works, sire,” Lord Obermal said, his voice taking on the patient air of a tutor with an exceptionally stupid child. “The Council of Thrones is an economic and defensive agreement for the mutual benefit of all countries. Though I’m sure our fellows in the Council are very grateful to Osera for stopping the Empress and will almost certainly grant us a very favorable rate of interest in any loan for rebuilding, you can’t possibly ask them to just give—”

“Interest?” Josef roared, slamming his chair against the floor as he lurched forward. “You mean those bastards want to make a profit off rebuilding the country that saved their lives? Are you kidding me?”

“There are several precedents, my lord,” Obermal said gently.

“Forget it,” Josef said, shaking his head. “Forget the whole thing. There is no way I’m borrowing money from that Council of vultures who couldn’t even be bothered to show up to fight their own war until eight hours after the Empress was gone.”

“But the repairs must be made!” Lord Obermal cried. “And there’s simply no other way to raise that sort of capital. The Council’s the only body large enough to offer the amounts we will require.”

“How much?” Josef said.

Obermal paused. “Pardon?”

“How much are we talking about?”

Obermal began riffling through his papers. “I couldn’t be sure without—”

Josef rolled his eyes. “Guess.”

“Yes, sire.” Obermal ran his fingers down a list of figures. “If I had to guess, and mind you, this is almost certainly a gross underestimation, but if I had to make a blind guess based on incomplete information for the cost of rebuilding the docks and all the infrastructure in Osera, I’d say it could be anywhere from a hundred and fifty to three hundred thousand gold standards.”

“Oh,” Josef said, sitting back. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Obermal cried, forgetting himself as his face turned scarlet. “I don’t know how much money you handled as a murderer for hire, Thereson, but Osera is one of the most prosperous countries in the Council, and we pull in, at most, a hundred and twenty thousand per year, including our tax on sea traffic. Even if my lowest estimates were correct, which I can assure you they aren’t, it would take one and a half years of Osera’s pre-Empress income to save that much money, assuming of course we didn’t pay for anything else during that time, so no guards, no servants, no social services, no garbage men or lamp lighters. And let’s not forget that level of income is impossible now since our docks are destroyed.” The treasurer shook his head. “It can’t be done. We cannot raise that kind of money on our own, not unless you want the repairs to take twenty years. Your mother borrowed Council funds the last time the Empress destroyed Osera, and it was the salvation of our island. The least you can do is try to follow her good example.”

Josef leaned back, glaring at the old man as he finally fell silent. “Are you done?”

Obermal went very still, his eyes growing wide as he realized what he’d just done. “Yes, sire,” he whispered. “Forgive me. It’s been a very stressful time for our office, and—”

“It’s been a stressful time for everyone,” Josef said. “Forget it. I’d rather you say what you think rather than have the truth all muddled up with flattery. Anyway, I’ve got an idea that could make this all very easy. Nico?”

Nico looked up from what was left of her slab of roast.

Josef flashed her a huge grin. “It seems Osera’s short on cash. Since Eli’s not around for me to shake down at the moment, can I borrow your prize?”

“My prize?” Nico scowled in confusion, and then, like a flash, she got it. “Oh,” she said, returning his smile. “Of course.”

“Right.” Josef turned to his treasurer. “That’s settled then. Go get what’s-his-name, the Whitefall, and have him meet me downstairs.”

“Lord Myron?” Obermal looked appalled. “What do you need him for?”

“He’s the highest ranking Council man here, right?” Josef said, standing up. “I have business with the Council, so he’ll have to do. Just send him down and we’ll handle it. Believe it or not, I actually have some experience with this sort of thing.” His grin grew feral. “I did used to be a bounty hunter, after all.”

Nico couldn’t help smirking at that as she shoved the last of her dinner into her mouth. Meanwhile, Josef ducked back into the bedroom for his knives. Lord Obermal just watched, his eyes growing wider and wider, like he was waiting to see how things could get any worse. “Are you sure I can’t assist—”

“What part of ‘go get Whitefall’ didn’t you understand?” Josef said, picking up the Heart from its resting place by the fire.

Lord Obermal jumped up. “Yes, my lord. I’ll have him sent to you at once.”

Josef nodded, watching the old treasurer as he gathered his ledgers and excused himself, bowing deeply before shutting the door. When he was gone, Nico stood and stretched, popping her joints.

“If Eli were here, I think this is where he’d say that you should try being a little nicer to your staff,” she said.

Josef snorted. “If Eli were here, I’d ignore him. Anyway, if there’s one thing I did learn from my mother, it’s that sometimes you have to roll over people if you want to get anything done.” He stopped a moment, checking his knives again. When he was confident they were all accounted for, he jerked his head toward the door.

Nico nodded and fell in beside him, following the king into the hall and down the stairs toward the burned-out western wing.

Myron Whitefall looked up from his dinner with an incredulous scowl. “He wants what?”

“The servant said King Josef wants to meet with you,” his guard repeated. “Says it’s urgent.”

“It better well be urgent,” Myron grumbled, pushing back from the table with a shove that almost toppled his wineglass. “I finally have a moment’s peace now that Sara’s taking her freak show back to Zarin, and the vagabond king of Osera wants me to spend it with him? He’d better have the Empress on a leash.”

The guard smiled. “Do you want us to escort you, sir? Just in case he does?”