Gallel's Heir

Chapter 9.1: Emptiness and Awakening

***

Canúden arrived midmorning at Tutang's office two days later, before his mother woke in their rooms in Gallel, long before Tutang had sent for him; he wanted to be as much in control of the interview as possible, including deciding the time. He wanted his mind fresh with morning  clarity. And, he wanted to have the meeting over with by lunch.

Confidence filled him. As he'd sketched Dylin, she'd given him ideas and prepared him for this. Ophia must have been a truly good student; even without the bandages, Dylin's skin was almost clear, and her lips found smiles whenever he looked at her.

Boreck stood forebodingly at the door and with a smirk said, "You're early. You were not called for."

"On the contrary," he said. "From the beginning, His Royalness encouraged me to come to him whenever I felt ready. I'm ready now. I will see him."

"I can't say one way or the other." Nevertheless, Boreck knocked. Tutang grunted something, and the guard opened the door.

The curtains were closed, morning peeking through the cracks. The only light in the room was a dim lamp on the edge of the desk, and a small fire in the hearth. The room was stuffy, and smelled like  sweat. Tutang reclined in his chair, a bottle of evergreen wine in front of him. "What is it, boy?" The comment lacked his usual exuberance. "You're early."

"Yes. I've studied the notebook, and have some ideas."

Tutang stared at him with bloodshot eyes.

"You asked that I have some opinions to share on Revelsday, but did not give a specific time for our meeting. I felt you would want to get things going as soon as possible, given your insistence."

Tutang took a sip from his bottle. "Well, what is it, then?"

Canúden took a deep breath, then regretted the show of weakness. "Most of our revenue comes from agricultural communities, trade of grain, yams, and fruit with the islands and our neighbors, excluding at the moment Turbia."

"Get on with it, boy. You think I don't know this?"

"This is a preface, an introduction." He twisted shoulders that felt strange in a linen shirt, rather than the black silk of a servant. "An end of trade with Turbia  has caused a bit of an upset in general commerce as merchants scramble to establish new trade routes. Trade will hopefully be a temporary problem, but until it is resolved, prices in our markets are increasing. Horribly so.   A large portion of our population are farmers, the backbone of our society. They rely on markets to keep their lands running, but they also give a good share of their income to Gallel for taxes."

Tutang took another long sip of wine and drummed his fingers. His eyes were puffy and red.

"Let them keep their money, at least for now," Canúden continued. "We need their strength and produce to feed our soldiers. Let them hang on to their silver. It'll be hidden from Turbia, and we'll end up being richer when the war ends."

The large man barked a laugh, splattering pungent spittle all around him. "Until Tamil rapes the land and slaughters everyone for more."

Canúden winced. "If she's going to do that, she'll do it anyway. The people will favor you, so when you need to send their sons to war, they'll be willing to go. Families will have the silver to support their soldiers."

"You mean to propose that we don't get taxes?" said Tutang. "The Council wouldn't put up with that!"

"They would do anything you told them to. Is that not what it means to be the head of the Council?"

"Well, yes, but it's not that simple. My support comes from their favor. I can't expect them to lose such an income." His voice wasn't harsh, more conversational. His tone emboldened Canúden.