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."Few enough chaos-talented boys without coins survive," Cerryl said quietly, thinking of his father."I'm sorry, Cerryl.I did not mean it that way.""I know."At her doorway, her arms went around him."Go home, and please get some rest.""I will." He returned the embrace, enjoying momentarily the warmth and even the order that infused her.Her lips touched his, warmly but briefly, before she leaned away from him."Good night.""Good night."Somehow, the evening seemed damper and colder on the walk back to his empty apartment.XXXVCerryl walked quickly across the foyer toward the tower steps.The day hadn't been that bad, but he was glad that it had been quiet.Only a few celebrating mercenaries at The Battered Cask, and they'd quieted down even before he'd gotten there after the summons from Coreg, the lead area patroller.Both the innkeeper and Coreg recommended that Cerryl but warn them, and Cerryl had heeded the recommendation, if warily.Everyone had seemed relieved at that.Cerryl wondered if he'd have trouble later-or if Gyskas would.Cerryl shook his head as he started up the steps to the lowest level of the White Tower.You still don't have enough experience.Neither guard was more than passingly familiar, and Cerryl nodded politely as he passed and began the climb to Myral's quarters, hoping the older mage happened to be there.He paused outside Myral's door, then knocked once.Thrap.After a moment came the familiar voice: "You can come, in, Cerryl.Cerryl opened the door, then closed it behind him.Myral sat by his table, a mug of hot cider before him."To what do I owe this visit?" Myral smiled, then half-choked and lapsed into a series of deep and retching coughs.Cerryl bolted toward Myral.The older mage held up a hand even as the heavy retching coughs subsided.Cerryl stood, waiting for Myral to stop coughing, glancing toward the windows shuttered against the chill breeze and then at the older man.After a time, Myral cleared his throat and took the smallest of sips from the mug."Are you all right?" Cerryl asked."I swallowed wrong.It happens with age.Now.what do you wish?""I thought you could help me.""All I can provide these days is information, and you know that." Myral smiled."So what knowledge can this aging mage provide?" He gestured toward the chair across the table from him, then lifted the mug of cider.Cerryl seated himself."I need to know more about tariffs and trade.""For the Patrol?" Myral raised his eyebrows."For peacekeeping?""For peacekeeping.Over an eight-day ago, we found an abandoned cart-a painted and well-kept cart.There was blood on the seat, and a scrap of silksheen under the seat, and traces of chaos." Cerryl went on to explain how nothing else had turned up, but not about Fydel's veiled suggestion that such interest was beyond peacekeeping."It keeps bothering me, but I don't know exactly why.So I thought about you."Myral lowered the mug of hot cider and chuckled."I am flattered.So many mages forget us relics once they become full members of the Guild.""I know I have much to learn.""You are one of the few who understands that." After a pause, Myral asked, "Why do you think taxes and tariffs have anything to do with this strange cart?""The silksheen.I guess."Myral frowned."Do you have that scrap of silksheen?"Cerryl glanced around, then nodded."No one else seemed to care.""Look at it, closely."The younger mage extracted the fragment from his white leather belt wallet and studied it for a time."It was cut.""Exactly.Silksheen looks fragile, but you cannot rip it.It takes a sharp blade to cut it, a very sharp blade." Myral took another sip of the cider, letting the vapor wreathe his face.That meant the fragment had been placed under the seat deliberately.But why? After another look at the fabric, Cerryl replaced it in his wallet."We think of silksheen as a fabric because it is soft and beautiful and lasts," Myral said slowly."Yet I understand the druids use it for ropes and harnesses for its strength.""When a small scarf can cost over a gold?""What is a rope that will not break worth? Or a scarf that will outlast its wearer?""Is it so valuable that anyone would stoop to murder?""That is your judgment.I would not, not for a length of fabric, no matter how beautiful, no matter how strong.""Some might.""Every man has a price, especially those who value everything in terms of coins." Myral sipped his cider."You know what I can say about silksheen."Cerryl waited, then finally spoke."About taxes.I know what the golds go for-armsmen, stipends for mages-but I really have no idea how many golds are needed by the Guild."Myral shook his head."Guess.""Fifteen thousand? Every year?"The older mage's eyes widened."You are low by a third or more, perhaps by a half these days, but most would not guess a fifth part of that."Cerryl permitted himself a slight smile, amazed that his overestimation had fallen so far short."The medallions.they bring in only but a thousand golds a year, two at most.I cannot imagine twenty thousand golds or more.Where would one keep it?""We do not.Nearly so fast as it arrives, it must depart.You get your golds every eight-day, do you not?""Yes.""So does every other mage.The White Lancers get their coppers and silvers, and the masons, and the cooks, and the haulers.and everyone spends all or part of them, and more taxes are levied on that spending, and the golds return."Cerryl nodded.That made sense."So where do we get more than five hundred golds an eight-day?""Taxes on the factors and merchants and artisans?""Who else? There are far more peasants and street peddlers, but how would we collect such taxes?"That also made sense.Myral took a long swallow of the hot cider, then held the mug just below his chin, letting the vapor on the damp day wreathe his cheeks before speaking."Fairhaven is more than a city, and less than a land.That is its strength and its weakness.We do not collect tithes from the landowners the way that the Duke of Lydiar or the Viscount of Certis do.Instead, we must tax those who sell goods in the city, and those who carry goods into it, as well as those who carry goods out of it.Yet we cannot drive the merchants away [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]