Crowchanger (Changers of Chandris) by A.C. Smyth Page A

the taint since, but now Garvan’s own son was at the Aerie—a changer talent, they said. Deygan had heard talk that Garvan intended Casian to stand down, since he could not set him aside, throwing the succession of Lucranne into doubt.
    “I have heard that said, but now that way of doing things is outdated.” Deygan raised a hand as Garvan readied himself to protest. “One of the main achievements of my father’s reign, and something I pride myself to have continued, was reducing the payments into the Aerie. Our goal must be for the Aerie to pay its own way. It can take money from the wealthy in exchange for tutoring their children, or fees from the sick for the attention of their healers, but they will receive no more help from the holdings. And we must maximise production of the linandra. If that means bringing Chesammos from the north, so be it.”
    “And how would we manage in Martch and Waymar if you took our field Chesammos and sent them to the desert?” Koranne, regent of the holding of Martch, was a striking woman. She held the region for her son, only seven years old and too young to attend these meetings even as an observer.
    “The supply of linandra is more important, Lady Koranne,” said Deygan smoothly. “The alternative is to send Irmos to mine linandra. The Chesammos must be sent south. Not all at once, but by degrees the farms of the north must be worked by Irmos alone, and the Chesammos sent to do the jobs for which they are most suited.”
    “The hardest ones,” said Jaevan. “The dirtiest, most dangerous ones.”
    Deygan indulged his son in many ways, but he would not be challenged by him, especially in full assembly before his holders. A flash of angry heat flushed his skin. Jaevan pushed him too far. Creator, the boy was only twelve. What would the lad be like at eighteen or twenty? He must learn that he was not yet king of Chandris.
    “Because they lost,” Deygan said through clenched teeth. “They gave up the island without a fight, and with it any right to be treated with respect. If they try to withhold linandra to manipulate us, they will soon learn the error of their ways.”
    “But—”
    “Enough!” Deygan stood abruptly, motioning to his lords and ladies that the meeting was done. “Garvan, send those soldiers to the pits. If Chesammos are stealing linandra, I want them caught. Actually…” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Reduce the number of cut stones sent back to the villages. The adulthood ritual is important to them, I believe. Make it clear that as long as production continues to fall, so will the number of their young they can raise. That may make them rethink their stance.”
    “Of course, Sire,” said Garvan, sketching a small bow, and the lords and ladies left the chambers.
    Deygan turned to his son, who awaited his father’s displeasure with resignation. The king jabbed a finger at Jaevan’s chest.
    “If you want to pander to the Chesammos when I am gone, that will be up to you. You can give them alms and dress them in silks, and see how far you get. The holders will oppose you. The Chesammos will see any softening as a sign of weakness and exploit you. The Irmos will see that to give better to the Chesammos they have to accept less for themselves, and they will defy you.”
    Jaevan’s face fell and Deygan reminded himself that he was only a boy. Deygan had expressed similar ideas in his younger years. The boy would learn the hard way that realism displaced idealism when one became king. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and unclench his fists before continuing.
    “You must rule, Jaevan, not simply wear the crown. That means making harsh decisions when necessary. We cannot afford to support the Chesammos and receive nothing in return, not with threats from those who would invade us from the mainland. There are soldiers to train, weapons to be traded for. If we need to send all the Chesammos to the pits to dig enough linandra to pay for that,