Blood of the Fold

Richard drew a breath and straightened as Cathryn, still holding the pen in midair, blinked at all the papers Richard had pushed before her. Her aides had all come up to surround her, proud of the job they had accomplished in such short order.

Richard leaned close to her again. "I hope I got it all as you wished, Cathryn. You said you'd take care of it, but I didn't want to be away from you while you toiled at the work, so I rose early and took care of it for you. I hope you're pleased."

She glanced over letters, pushing them aside to look at others underneath. "Yes. . of course."

Richard slid a chair closer. "Why don't you have a seat?"

When she had sat, and started signing her name, Richard pushed his sword out of the way and sat beside her, in the Mother Confessor's chair. He settled his gaze on the people watching, and kept it there as he listened to the pen scratching. He kept the rage on a slow boil in order to concentrate.

Richard turned back to the smiling Keltish officials behind and to each side of her chair. "You've all performed a valuable service this morning, and I would be honored if you would be willing to continue in an official capacity. I'm sure I could use your talents in administering the growing D'Hara."

After they had all bowed and thanked him for his generosity, he once again turned his attention to the silent group watching the proceedings. The D'Haran soldiers, especially the officers, having spent months stationed in Aydindril, had learned a great deal about trade in the Midlands. In the four days he had been with them searching for Brogan, Richard had learned all he could, and had added to that knowledge earlier that morning. When he knew the questions to ask, Mistress Sanderholt had proven to be a woman of vast knowledge gathered over years of having prepared the dishes of many lands. Food, as it turned out, was a reservoir of knowledge about a people. Her keen ear didn't hurt, either.

"Some of the papers the duchess is signing are trade instructions," Richard told the officials as Cathryn bent over her work. His eyes lingered on her shoulders. He willed them away. "Since Kelton is now part of D'Hara, you must understand that there can be no trade between Kelton and those of you who have not joined with us."

He turned his gaze on a short, round man with a curly black and gray beard. "I realize, Representative Garthram, that this will put Lifany in an uncomfortable position. With Galea and Kelton's borders now ordered sealed to anyone not part of D'Haran, you will have a very difficult time with trade.

"With Galea and Kelton to your north, D'Hara to your east, and the Rang'Shada Mountains to the west, you will be hard-pressed to find a source of iron. Most of what you purchased came from Kelton, and they bought grain from you, but Kelton will just have to buy their grain from the Galean warehouses now. Since they're now both D'Haran there is no longer any reason for past animosity to hinder trade, and their armies are under my command so they won't be wasting effort worrying about one another and instead will devote their attention to sealing the borders.

"D'Hara, of course, has a use for Keltish iron and steel. I suggest you find another source, and quickly, as the Imperial Order will probably attack from the south. Possibly right through Lifany, I would suspect. I will have no man spilling blood to protect lands not yet joined with us, nor will I reward hesitation with trade privileges."

Richard turned his gaze to a tall, gaunt man with a ring of wispy white hair around the base of his knobby skull. "Ambassador Bezancort, I regret to inform you that the letter, here, to Kelton's Commissioner Cameron, instructs him that all agreements with your homeland of Sanderia are hereby canceled until and unless you, too, are part of D'Hara. When spring comes, Sanderia will not be allowed to drive their herds up from your plains to spring and summer on the highlands of Kelton."

The tall man lost what little color he had to begin with. "But, Lord Rahl, we have no place to spring and summer them; while those plains are a lush grassland in the winter, they are a brown and barren wasteland in the summer. What would you have us do?"

Richard shrugged. "I would suppose you'll have to slaughter your herds in order to salvage what you can before they starve.

The ambassador gasped. "Lord Rahl, these agreements have been in place for centuries. Our whole economy is based on the husbandry of our sheep."

Richard lifted an eyebrow. "It's not my concern; my concern is with those who stand with us."

Ambassador Bezancort raised his hands in an imploring gesture. "Lord Rahl, my people would be ruined. Our whole country would be devastated if we were forced to slaughter our herds."

Representative Theriault took an urgent step forward. "You can't allow those herds to be slaughtered. Herjborgue depends on that wool. Why, why… it would ruin our industry."