It was then I noticed a strange look on Tain’s face, a kind of bright-eyed intensity as he looked between the men. “And we’ve earned our wealth, haven’t we?” he asked, with such false mildness that I almost wanted to shout caution at blustery, oblivious Lazar as he nodded in fierce agreement.
“Precisely! Our ancestors, the first Council, made this city and this country what it is!”
“Aren’t we finding out right now how dependent we are on the rest of the country to sustain us here, though? For food, for labor, for the supply of trade goods that make us rich?” Tain still spoke levelly, but this time Bradomir caught the undercurrent; he shifted back to solicitous-uncle mode in a heartbeat.
“You are right, of course, Honored Chancellor. So wise for your years! The country does depend on all of us doing our part. We are a great engine, are we not? And our farmers and miners and estate workers have all contributed to that greatness. As have we! We provide education, justice, the finest healthcare in the continent, and countless opportunities to learn the fine arts and crafts and skills of our Guilds. All are welcome in Silasta. But this?” He spread his hands in the manner of a disappointed tutor and clucked his tongue. “This violence and brutality? This is not what our country stands for. Though it saddens me to oppose my own countrymen, we are bound by our honor and loyalty to our country and they have betrayed that loyalty. I believe we must stand up and defend this city.”
I thought of the head in the bag, and my own beating, and the murder of our uncles. There was no easy answer to this, but I found myself not in disagreement with Bradomir, which was an odd sensation.
Tain stared at the wall, a muscle in his jaw working, and said nothing for a very long time. The Credolen shifted, uncomfortable; even Bradomir seemed to have run out of things to say. Abruptly Tain got to his feet. “I’ve got some important things to take care of, gentlemen,” he said.
“But, you summoned us, Honored Chancellor,” Lazar stammered, looking confused.
“I don’t think you can help any further, Credo,” Tain said coldly. “Attend your duties. I have a lot to think about.”
Lazar mumbled a hasty apology, but the shutters came down on Bradomir’s smooth expression, and I knew Tain had made a mistake, maybe even an enemy.
I told him so, once we were alone, along with my theory that Javesto might have tipped someone off about the best time to break into the storehouses. “We need to seriously consider the possibility that Javesto is actively working with Darfri rebels inside the city.”
The anger was gone as abruptly as it had erupted. “I’m just tired. I want a solution, not rhetoric about traitors and loyalty.” He looked up at me, bleak. “Lini was up here last night. Did you see what she’s found about the Guilds? And the school? We’ve let the estates go, Jov. We’re not treating people outside the cities as part of Sjona—we might as well be two separate countries, where we’re taking everything and it’s not clear that we’re giving anything in exchange. We don’t know what education their children are getting, or what quality of judicial services there are in the villages. Money goes from the Administrative Guild to the Families for determination councils and schools in the estates but the amounts have dwindled and we’re not getting any accounting for the funds. I asked Budua when we’d last had an appealed decision from an estate determination council to the city ones, and she blustered and couldn’t tell me. I went through my family’s steward’s reports and there’s never a mention of any of these services. I was going to ask Bradomir and Lazar to explain how it works on their lands, but what’s the point? They just tell me they don’t know precisely, that their stewards take care of these things. And I can’t even argue because that’s what mine does, too. And yours.
“We call the Darfri outside traitors for rising against us, but what reason do they really have for loyalty? What proof is there that we’ve been any kind of proper government for them?”
I let out my breath in a puff. “Look, I won’t pretend this isn’t all troubling. Maybe services have been run down out there. But there’s a big jump between resentment about living conditions and pitching a siege on the capital. If things are bad out there, why not petition the Council directly? Or write to the Chancellor? Why raise a bloody army as a first step? And honor-down, Tain, look what they did to our messengers. I know you’ve been obsessing over the Warrior-Guilder, but I never thought you’d think violence was the way you solve difficult problems.”
He scowled. “Aven’s not violent. She’s brave, and she’s a fighter of course, but she—”
“Tain, I don’t want to hear a treatise on the virtues of Aven the precious Warrior-Guilder, all right? I don’t trust our Council and I’m not convinced they wouldn’t enslave the population of the estates if they could get away with it, so I don’t believe people rebelled for no reason. What I do believe is that murdering people for living in a city and trying to destroy our entire civilization is not the right course of action, and we don’t deserve to be killed for whatever grudge they might have, valid or not.”
He looked at the floor, sails drooping. “I know,” he said at last. “I do know. But you should read some of the Council records. Did you know there’ve been motions to get additional Guilds—for years they’ve tried to get a farmers’ guild, and a miners’ guild.…” Animated again, he sprang up. “The deaths in our gemstone mines, Jov! I never knew how many people died in there, and there’s no Guild to look after them, or change the way things are done. But every time it comes up, it gets crushed. And these people who were my Tashi’s closest allies, and who we’re meant to trust with our lives here, they’re the ones who were always arguing how the Guilds are part of our traditions and we can’t go adding new ones. They don’t care that people die out there.”
“Well,” I said, fidgeting, “we can’t have a Guild for every job there is, or the Council would be hundreds strong. It’s hard enough getting twelve people to come to a decision on something.”
Tain’s mouth twisted as he looked at me, like he’d discovered something unpleasant he’d never noticed before. He shook his head and spoke slowly. “Jov, we’ve got two different Guilds just for kinds of art. Surely one Guild which looks after the people who aren’t in the cities is warranted, at least, given we couldn’t even feed ourselves without them. Did you know there are ten times as many people who live outside the cities as in?”
I thought of the camp outside our walls, an ocean of tents and figures trying to swallow us whole. “Yes, actually, I did.” When he fell silent, staring at the wall with his hands jammed under his armpits, I levered myself up and stood beside him. “I do understand, and of course you’re right.” Etan’s kind, serious face flashed across my eyes then, and my throat tightened at the wave of emotion—the love, respect, and trust I’d shared with my uncle, soured by grief at his loss, and shame at my failure to save him. “It’s just hard to think about these things when we’ve lost so much.”
“We have to, Jov.” Tain’s face was still serious, but without judgment. He picked up a paperweight from the table and passed it from hand to hand, his gaze distant. “We have to find out why this happened before we can stop it.”