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"I always enjoyed Society events before the Change," the consort of Portland's ruler said. "But there are times when I miss being able to slop around in sweats: not to mention just getting into a car and going somewhere, especially after a trip like this. God alone knows what it'll be like when the roads and bridges have washed and worn away. But I know you youngsters aren't interested in hearing us decrepit fogies talk about the good old days."
She held out a hand, palm-down over the table. The maidservant took a book from the shelves and slid it forward under her fingers. It had a black-leather binding, and gilt-stamp letters on the spine beneath the Lidless Eye. They read: Fiefs of the Portland Protective Association: Tenants in Chief, Vassals, Vavasours and Fiefs-minor in Sergeantry. That meant among other things that the maidservant wasn't just a maidservant; she could read at least, which a lot of people her age in the Association's territories couldn't. Sandra flipped the book open, then turned two pages over to find precisely the entry she wanted.
"The mesne tithes from Sir Jason's manor of Loiston-"
She raised a brow at them, and they all nodded to show they were familiar with the Association's terminology. Mesne tithes were what a fief-holder paid his own overlord for seizin of the land, part of which would be passed on to the Lord Protector by the tenant-in-chief.
"-amount to eight hundred silver dollars yearly, or fifty-seven rose nobles in gold," she went on, ru
She looked up at Astrid and raised a brow. The younger woman made herself refrain from licking her lips by an effort of will, feeling more than a little rushed. She'd expected to come into these talks with all the advantages. It wasn't working out quite like that, somehow.
"We'll turn him over when his steward sends us five years' yield," the Lady of the Dunedain replied curtly. "In cash or equivalents in cloth, horses, tools and provisions of types and quantities to be agreed. We won't release him until the ransom is paid in full."
"Five years' mesne tithes?" Sandra said. "Oh, come now. The standard ransom in the Protectorate is two, for men captured in a private quarrel, and this was private war, not one between realms."
"I'm not interested in how you pay each other off," she replied firmly. "Five years."
Sandra put her elbows on the arms of her chair, steepling her fingers together and tapping them gently on her lips. That let the brow of her wimple shadow her face while she thought.
"How's this, then," she said after a moment. "Make it two and a half years, and I'll pay the entire sum to you in cash right away. That'll save you a good deal of trouble, and spare you Sir Jason's company, which frankly I always found tedious myself."
Silence ran heavy for a moment. Then Astrid went on: "We wanted to make the ransom heavy to send a message," she said. "We don't want your yrch trespassing on our land. Three and a half years."
Sandra laughed softly. "My dear girl-" At Astrid's expression, she modified that: "My dear Roquen Astrid, I don't intend to make him a gift of the money. Rest assured that he'll pay back every barley grain of it. If it's any comfort to you, the humiliation of paying me will be even greater. Shall we say three years?"
"We should have taken his head with the scum he hired," Alleyne said, his voice quiet and cold. "That would teach others not to attack us on our own ground."
Sandra sipped at her goblet. "You killed his brother-in-law and liege-lord," she pointed out. "It's only natural for him to be a bit ticked."
I killed his brother-in-law and liege lord, Eilir signed. While he was trying to kidnap or kill my brother Rudi on our own land. Rising thrust that cut the femoral artery, not to mention the testicles. He should have worn a metal cup under the hauberk.
Sandra's eyes flicked to Astrid and she made a questioning hmmmm? Astrid translated the Sign without being in the least convinced of the Portlander's ignorance. Sandra shrugged.
"Well, well, at that point you'd already kidnapped my daughter on my own land, and Eddie: Baron Liu: was trying to get her back, with your brother as a wergild," Sandra said, and for a moment something showed behind her eyes.
Then she smiled charmingly. "These chains of grievances go in both directions. For example, you also killed Katrina Georges, Mathilda's tutor who I sent along to be with her in her captivity."
"That was me, actually," Astrid said. "I shot her in the back with a broadhead after we Dunedain disposed of your ambush party. She was killing a Mackenzie with a sword at the time, as I recall. Some tutor."
"She was Mathilda's physical-education tutor," Sandra chuckled, and the glacier eyes of the young woman behind her chair shifted to Astrid, going slightly wider and then narrowing. Arminger's wife went on: "And Tiphaine Rutherton here was a good friend of Katrina's; they were both members of my Household from shortly after the Change. I don't doubt she'd like to pay you back for killing her friend. Wouldn't you, Tiphaine?"
"Yes, my liege," Rutherton said, her voice as unemotional as water ru
"So you see, there's a certain symmetry to all this. But back to practicalities. If you take my offer, you get the money immediately. Otherwise you'll be negotiating with dowager Baroness Liu, Sir Jason's sister. I don't think you'll do better, and things may well drag out. Lady Mary would have been pleased if Sir Jason had succeeded, but right now she's rather a
Her smile invited Astrid to share in the hapless Sir Jason's woe. The Dunadan had to make a conscious effort to reject that complicity and the momentary warmth it brought. She glanced around at the others instead, reading their expressions as her own qualified yes.
It really would be more convenient. They'd have the gold, the distilled yield of two hundred people working two square miles of good land for three years, and they'd have it right here, in the Valley's best-supplied marketplace, or at least the best for tools and clothing and weapons. And they needed more trained warhorses, which were hideously expensive whether you spent money or your own time. Everyone was buying them.
So why is she making things convenient for us? Astrid thought. Perhaps she's afraid he'll talk: and there's no reason at all to relieve her anxiety. Then, aloud: "I presume you're here for the meeting of the Faculty Senate or something like that?" she said.
Sandra nodded.
"So are we," Astrid went on. "So we'll hand him over on Sunday, when everything's finished. We have a use for him until then."
Sandra's expression remained the same, but Astrid didn't need the sudden pressure of Alleyne's foot on hers beneath the table to realize that the dart had hit.
"I'd really rather have him now," Sandra said. "If it's all the same to you."
"Is that a condition for paying the ransom?" Alleyne asked, a sharp note in his voice.
"No," she replied easily. "Not at all; if you want to keep seeing Sir Jason's scowling face that long, you may. As long as he's in reasonable health when you hand him over, you'll have the money-one hundred and sixty rose nobles in gold, or any mix of gold and silver you wish at the usual exchange ratios."