War Maid's Choice-ARC by David Weber

glass down very precisely in front of him and leaned back. His comfortable rattan chair creaked under his weight, and he gazed out across the rolling green fields of the Barony of Frahmahn. He could see literally for miles from the roofed balcony set on the west side of his castle’s central keep, and everything he saw was his. But somewhere out there, beyond what he could see, beyond the borders of his own South Riding, lay Tellian of Balthar’s West Riding, and he felt his jaw muscles clench as he considered the reason—the real reason—for this meeting with Yeraghor.
    “I don’t know whether they’re accurate, but I think it’s obvious Shaftmaster thinks they are—or will be, when all’s said and done. And given that he’s the Chancellor of the Exchequer, I’m not prepared to say he’s wrong.”
    “And you’re sure they’re genuine?” Yeraghor asked, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “Master Talthar’s a resourceful soul, but we both know he has irons of his own in this fire.”
    “I’m sure,” Cassan replied grimly. “And I’ve spent some time looking at the reports his estimates are based on, too.” His expression wasn’t getting any happier. “I’m not sure I agree with all of his analyses, but he can’t be too far off.”
    “Shit,” Yeraghor said flatly. Unlike Cassan, Yeraghor preferred beer to whiskey, and he buried his nose briefly in his silver chased tankard. Then he slapped it back on the table and glowered at Cassan.
    “And this business about Macebearer signing on? It all looks genuine enough... I doubt he’d hesitate to offer us false information or even outright forgeries if it would serve his purposes. And capable or not, actually getting his hands on Macebearer’s records—or even just getting access to them—couldn’t have been easy. I know.” He smiled thinly. “I’ve tried myself on more than one occasion!”
    “They’re not forgeries,” Cassan said with a grimace. “I haven’t managed to get anyone inside Macebearer’s staff yet, either—not high enough to get his hands on this sort of documentation, at least—but I do have my sources in the Palace. Which is how I know someone broke into his office a few weeks ago. They’ve all done their best to hush it up, of course, but the investigation was as thorough as it was quiet. Talthar hasn’t mentioned it to me specifically, but I’m pretty sure the ‘servant’ who disappeared the same night Macebearer got himself burglarized was his man.” He shrugged. “I recognized Macebearer’s handwriting, too. I don’t think there’s any question the documents are exactly what Talthar told me they are, and that means those estimates are about as accurate—or official, at least—as they get.”
    “Wonderful,” Yeraghor said bitterly. “Things are bad enough the way they are. The last thing we need is Tellian getting Crown approval for that kind of boost to his revenues!”
    It was nice that Yeraghor agreed with him, Cassan thought acidly, but it would have been even nicer if he could have foregone—just this once—his compulsion to restate the obvious. But then Cassan made himself stop and draw a deep breath. His temper, he reminded himself, remained closer to the surface and faster to flare than he would have liked, and however irritating Yeraghor might be, Cassan had no business taking out his ire on his kinsman. Nor was it reasonable to expect any other initial response out of him, given the circumstances. Yes, Yeraghor’s conclusion was blindingly obvious, but Cassan had had the advantage of two additional weeks to study the documents the other baron had seen only in the last hour or so.
    And obvious or not, he had a point, Cassan conceded sourly.
    One of the unfortunate realities of life was that the water transport of trade goods was far and away safer, faster, and much, much cheaper than trying to ship the same goods overland. That was true even in the Empire of the Axe, with its superb highways; here