Oath of Fealty by Elizabeth Moon Page A

resources,” Kieri said.
    Brows furrowed; clearly they had not made this connection before.
    “In my experience,” Kieri said, “most want more than they have, even if they call themselves content. And some resources do not grow of themselves. When I got my grant of land in northern Tsaia and people applied for permission to live there, I soon learned that what had seemed abundant resources for a few were not so abundant when the population grew. I, like the elves, had to institute rules about how much wood could be cut, and so on.”
    “Perhaps it was your elven half …” Galvary’s words slowed and stopped as Kieri looked at him.
    “Come now,” Kieri said. “You must know—your wives do, if you do not—that if you have only one barrel of meal in the pantry, you cannot feed a hundred with it. And how many teams of plough must you have for that barrel of meal?”
    “Well, but … if there were more land …”
    “Land does not grow wider because you wish it,” Kieri said. “We have neighbors: would you have us invade them, to get more land? When Tsaia runs short, do you not watch our borders here?”
    More furrowed brows. “Yes …”
    “Have you never told a son or daughter to trim their desires to the purse you give them?”
    “Of course …”
    “Well, then. Lyonya is the size it is; our human share of it is the sizeit is; we must make the best of it. Having merchants on the Council will help—they know foreign markets better than anyone here, I daresay, and can advise us on the most advantageous types of trade—”
    “But they make money off us—”
    Kieri sighed, but silently. “We make money off of trade and they carry the goods—they must live, just as we do.”
    Yet again, the furrowed brows. Finally Egil said, “I have heard—from a wine importer—that one reason we are not exporting so much jewelry is that our craftsmen now live and work in Tsaia and even Aarenis.”
    “Exactly the sort of thing I meant,” Kieri said. “If we cannot support them at home, they must move elsewhere, and if they move elsewhere, their work profits us less.”
    “Well …” Galvary scrubbed his hands over his face, as if trying to put on a new skin. “I will not oppose including a merchant or two on the Council. If it means restoring the treasury …”
    Kieri wondered if they would accept the next step. Might as well try … “It is not so much the size of our treasury as what circulates among our people. Yes, the royal treasury must have reserves for emergencies, but the wealth of a kingdom lies in more than a heap of gold.” At their doubtful expressions, he tried another tack. “The food in your pantry does you no good if you never eat it.”
    “The elves said something like that, the last time I spoke to one of them about it,” Galvary said. “It didn’t make sense to me, though.”
    “Well, first things first,” Kieri said. “I want to see merchants represented on the Council by midsummer. I’d like a list of those you consider suitable in ten days. I will then meet them and interview them.”
    “So soon? I mean—yes, Sir King, but—there is still your coronation to plan.”
    “And plenty of help to plan it,” Kieri said. “If you will give the Council a limit to spend, I believe Sier Halveric can take it from there—”
    Galvary looked shocked, but nodded. Kieri stretched and glanced around. Outside the light was fading—near time for dinner, surely.
    “Thank you, Sier Galvary, and Egil,” he said. “We can go deeper into this tomorrow, but now—I would like to explore more of the palace grounds while there is still light.”
    “Of course, Sir King,” they both said, looking relieved.
    In the low slanting light of evening, Kieri asked Astil how to find the garden he remembered. “It had roses,” he said.
    “Yes, Sir King! I know the one. It’s through here—”
    Kieri came out into the evening sky, pale blue with high wisps of gold. In the silence, he could hear the