Sinner. Sara Douglass

thank you, gentlemen,” Caelum said, just as Herme had opened his mouth to say something else. “You may retire.”

      He waited until the doors had closed behind them, then he looked at Isfrael, FreeFall, Yllgaine and Sa’Domai. “My friends?”

      FreeFall spoke first. “There can be no doubt that these taxes are onerous, StarSon. But …”

      “But obviously something must be done to relieve Askam of the burden of debt he ran up in your service, Caelum,” Yllgaine said. “The tax on goods moved through the West seems the best way to do it.”

      Zared bit his tongue to keep his anger from spilling out in unreasoned words. Yllgaine undoubtedly would not want his trading rights taxed!

      Isfrael’s only comment was to repeat that the Avar had never been taxed, and would not consent to being taxed now. “And how would they pay it? In twigs? In acorns?”

      Sa’Domai shrugged. “I can sympathise with Zared in that his people also suffer … but I note Askam’s point that this debt was largely run up in Tencendor’s service –”

      Zared could no longer contain himself. “And some appalling investments! Gloam mines, for the gods’ sakes!”

      Caelum hit the table with the flat of his hand. “Be still, Zared! Or would you like to entertain the Corolean Ambassador and his train the next time he decides on a three-year stay?”

      Zared leaned back in his chair, his eyes carefully blank, listening to the conversation waft about him. Those of the Five not directly affected by the taxes first spoke of the weight of the taxes, then of Askam’s pressing (and understandable) need for money.

      Caelum listened, nodded occasionally, and was careful not to give the impression that he was for one side or the other. Finally he held up his hand for silence.

      “The issue of placing a border tax on those families wishing to move north must also be resolved.”

      “The issue is one of the freedom of a man to move his family to where they can eat, Caelum,” Zared snapped, tired of the discussion, but not willing to let such an important point pass with no debate.

      “The issue,” Askam shot back, “is whether or not you have the right to entice the most skilled of my workers and craftsmen north. I hear rumour that you pay well for such men to settle in Severin. Well enough, I think, to levy a tax on each of their departing heads for the troubles their loss causes me.”

      “I pay them nothing! They journey north only because they know their families will have a future with –”

      “Enough!” Now Caelum stood, furious. “I have heard sufficient to judge in this matter.”

      He sat down again, but his eyes were still flinty. “Askam. You may have the right to levy taxes as you will in the West, but you do not have the right to deprive people of the means of survival. Zared, your people have suffered too, and that is wrong, but what is also wrong is the fact that for many years … too many years, you have grown fat on the riches of Ichtar which you have shipped, free of any levy, to market via the West.

      “This is my judgment. The border tax must go. It is an injustice to so deprive people of their freedom of movement, their freedom of choice to move.”

      “But –” Askam began.

      “However, I hope that my decision on the other tax will go some way to alleviate your financial troubles, Prince of the West. The third tax on goods carried through the West must be lowered to one-tenth, still onerous, but enough for your people to bear.”

      Askam’s face went dark with anger. How did that help him? A tenth would never bring in – “But, Askam,” and Caelum’s eyes slid fractionally towards him, “I am fully aware that most of your debt was accomplished in my service, and for that I am more than grateful. While the people of the West must only pay one-tenth in tax, anyone else moving their goods through the West must pay half value in levy.”

      Zared’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. What was Caelum doing? “No-one else moves goods through the West save the people of the North,” he finally managed. “That is a tax aimed directly at me and mine!”

      Caelum turned to look him full in the eye. “And when have you run into debt to aid me, Zared? When? This is a fair way, as I see it, of making sure that all contribute towards –”

      “But none of them have to pay!” Zared shouted, flinging an angry arm at the others. “When do they contribute towards –”

      “Are you asking what the Icarii contribute?” Caelum seethed, “when they spent a thousand years in exile due to … due to …”

      Due to your people. Caelum may not have spoken the words, but all heard his thoughts in their minds.

      “Do you ask what Nor contributes, when for a thousand years his family maintained the Island of Mist and Memory?”

       And for a thousand years your people desecrated every sacred site in Tencendor they could lay a plough to?

      “Do you ask what the Avar contribute, when they had to watch their homelands slaughtered, their children burned?”

       And for a thousand years your people took the axe to every tree they could find, and murdered those who did not conform to the Way of the Plough?

      Zared had gone white with shock. He stared at Caelum, absolutely incapable of speech.

      How could Caelum send those thoughts careering through all of their heads, and still claim that he didn’t want the term “Acharite” used because it stank of the hatreds of the past?

      Caelum held his stare, then waved one of the Lake Guard over. “Bring in the Princess Leagh,” he said.

      “No,” whispered Zared. “Not after that, not –”

      The doors opened, and Leagh walked in. She had dressed herself in a gown of silk that precisely matched the grey of Zared’s eyes, and her face was as ashen as his, for she had heard the shouting of the previous minutes.

      Even so, she was composed, and she did not tremble or falter as she curtsied before Caelum. “StarSon.”

      “Princess Leagh,” Caelum said, his tone now far more gentle. “You and Zared are aware of why I have called you here.”

      She stood, and gazed calmly at him. “I am, StarSon. Is it yea or nay?”

      Caelum was taken aback at such bluntness. He had meant to put this matter before the entire Council as well, even though he had made up his mind weeks ago, because he’d felt that both Zared and Leagh would take it better if his decision was backed by the weight of the Council.

      But after the previous “discussion”, Caelum did not trust this gathering, nor even himself, to be able to keep a debate calm and reasoned.

      “Leagh … Zared,” he risked a quick glance at Zared, but turned back to Leagh. “Leagh, it is nay. It must be nay. There are good reasons for my –”

      He got no further. Zared leapt to his feet. “Good reasons, Caelum? Good reasons to deny Leagh and myself our hearts’ desire? Why? Is there a tax on her I have neglected to pay?”

      He turned to Askam. “How much, man? A third? A half?”

      Askam leaped to his feet, his chair crashing behind him. He made as if to lunge across the table, but FreeFall was quick enough, and strong enough, to seize his arm and drag him back.

      “Peace!” Caelum shouted. He signalled one of the Lake Guard. “Please escort the Princess Leagh from this Hall. I have words to speak that I would not like her to hear.”

      Leagh shot one frightened, stricken look at Zared, but then the birdman had her by the elbow and was pulling her back.

      “Leagh!”