Sinner. Sara Douglass

WolfStar’s predatory grin.

       12 Council of the Five Families

      The Great Hall of Sigholt sat silent, waiting, as the morning sun danced down through the high arched windows set among the massive roof beams. Banners, pennants and standards hung from walls and beams, their fields and borders rippling slightly in the warming air. From the windows the silvery-grey walls fell unfettered for twenty paces, eventually dividing into immense arched columns, behind which shifted the shadowy spaces of the cloisters. The floor was utterly bare, the newly scrubbed and sanded flagstones gleaming almost ivory in this bright light.

      In the very centre of the Hall sat a great circular golden oak table. Seven chairs were arranged about it.

      About eight paces from this great table, and between it and the empty fireplace, were arranged some three smaller tables, each draped with black cloth and with a dozen chairs behind them.

      The notaries were first to enter, their faces solemn with importance, their scarlet robes stiff with self-worth. Behind them came their secretaries – arms bustling with ledgers, accounts, papers, scrolls and the minutiae of a nation’s life – and their scribes, carrying the quills and inkwells of final judgment. Finally there was a brief scuttling of messenger boys, too overcome with the occasion to be anything but round-eyed and obedient.

      Once the bureaucracy had arranged themselves at the black-draped tables, the messenger boys waiting behind them amid the columns, the honour guard entered. Three Wing of the Strike Force, unarmed, stood about the walls of the Great Hall, their black uniforms merging with the dimness behind the columns. When they were still, WingRidge led in twenty-five of the Lake Guard, who took a prominent position, standing in a ring ten paces back from the central circular table.

      All the Council needed now were the main actors.

      Of those, StarSon Caelum entered first. He wore black, as was his custom, but his face was far more careworn than usual. Without fuss he seated himself at the table. And then, in a procedure initiated by Caelum when he first assumed the Throne of the Stars, the heads of the Five Families entered simultaneously, each from a different door. They strode to the central table, their boot heels clicking, arriving to stand behind their chairs as simultaneously as they had entered the hall. All were unarmed, their swords left back in their chambers.

      They waited. From the central doors Isfrael emerged.

      As one they all turned to Caelum, and bowed.

      “I thank you for your attendance here this day,” he said. “Be seated.”

      Askam sat on Caelum’s immediate right, Zared his left. FreeFall sat next to Askam, Isfrael next to Zared. Sa’Domai and Yllgaine took the seats immediately opposite Caelum. There was nothing on the table before the men, save their differences.

      “My friends,” Caelum said in a voice that, although soft, was so well modulated it carried easily to the men at the table, and to the notaries and secretaries eight paces away. “I bid you welcome to Sigholt for this Council, and I express my regrets that it should be convened so hastily and so soon after our last Council.

      “However, as you are all aware, there are matters which need to be discussed and decided among us. Chief among these matters is the issue of the taxes that Prince Askam has been forced to levy on the West. Over the past few weeks Askam has imposed taxation on goods moved by land or water through his territory, as well as on those families deciding to emigrate to the North.”

      “‘Forced’ is hardly the word I’d use,” Zared muttered, his grey eyes on Askam.

      “I had every right to impose those taxes –” Askam began, but Caelum silenced them both with an angry look.

      “We are all aware of how onerous these taxes are,” he said. “A third of the value of goods is … exorbitant. Ten thousand gold pieces per family moving north is incomprehensible.”

      Zared relaxed slightly.

      “I wish to hear from the principals involved, then from Duke Theod and Earl Herme who were kind enough to ride to Sigholt to offer their views, then from the rest of you about this table. Askam, will you speak?”

      Askam took a deep breath. “My friends, I am as aware as any of you how draconian these taxes sound. However, consider my position. For years I have worked tirelessly on Tencendor’s behalf, and on StarSon Caelum’s behalf. These efforts have cost me dearly. My creditors push for the return of their funds. These taxes will clear the West of debt within two years –”

      “And two years is more than enough to drive your people into starvation, Askam!” Zared cried. “Curse you! There are better ways of raising revenue than stealing it from the mouths of those who can least afford to –”

      “Oh, god’s arse, Zared!” Askam said. “This is all about you! Have you not been transporting your ore and gems and furs free of charge down to the southern markets at a handsome profit for decades? This talk of starving peasants is nonsense. Your purse has been dented – you who can well afford it – and thus you complain. I have not seen you spend more than a copper piece entertaining diplomats and foreign missions, nor founding the schools or universities that I have.”

      “Be quiet, Askam,” Caelum said, then shifted his eyes slightly. “Zared, Askam has got a point there. You have indeed made free use of his extensive system of roads and river boats for many years now.”

      “I have paid full price for their passage, StarSon,” Zared said.

      “Still, Askam does have the right to impose taxes on external goods moving through his territory. The fact is, he could have levied this tax only on your goods, not on those of his own people.”

      Zared held his breath for a moment, then spoke very deliberately. “The fact is, Caelum, that Askam has imposed a tax which directly hurts the West, and indirectly hurts another province. And the … human … populations of the West and North feel that they have been inordinately imposed upon. If these taxes are the result of debt run up in your cause, Caelum, then why do not all the peoples of Tencendor help retrieve the situation?”

      “The Avar do not pay taxes,” Isfrael said, very low.

      “And yet my people must!” Zared cried. “Can you not all of you see how dangerous this is? One race pays the debts of a nation of three races?”

      “Enough,” Caelum said. “Before I ask the views of the Avar, Icarii and Ravensbund, I would have Herme and Theod enter.”

      He nodded at the side tables, and one of the secretaries hurried to open the doors, whisper urgently, and escort the Duke and Earl to the table.

      Herme and Theod stood slightly to the right of Sa’Domai’s chair, where all could see them. Both wore tightly restrained expressions, both avoided looking at either Askam or Zared.

      “Your views, gentlemen?” Caelum asked.

      Herme spoke first, detailing how the taxes had impacted upon his own county of Avonsdale. All had been crippled, not only those with business moving goods on the road, but even the lowly farmers or labourers who moved neither stock nor fodder from their land.

      “They can hardly afford food now, StarSon,” Herme finished. “If they cannot grow it, then they certainly cannot buy it, for merchants have been forced to increase the cost of all merchandise to cover the taxes.”

      Which naturally, Zared thought, then increases the taxes in direct proportion to the inflated value of the goods.

      Theod told a similar tale. The people of Jervois Landing, of whom almost all relied on trade to survive, would be destitute within the year. And yet they could look across the Nordra, look into eastern Tencendor under FreeFall’s control, and see free markets, and round, rosy cheeks on the children.

      “As, of course, they can in