A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

“I’ll be sure to tell Queen Hyra,” Trevor said with a smile.

The woman laughed and slapped Trevor on the shoulder. “You do that!” She patted Trevor’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to touch you, but you seem like a regular person.”

Win leaned forward. “He’s really the duke of Listenwell in Brachia,” Win said playfully.

Perhaps Win hadn’t been as fully domesticated by Siranda as Trevor thought. “The merchant who sat next to us complained about a shoe leather tax.”

“He runs the bootmaking factory in town, but we’ve all been hit by something. About six months ago, I had to endure a head tax.”

Win’s eyebrows went up. “You collect heads?”

“I serve people with heads. Without a head, how would you eat or drink?” She said with a grin. “It almost put me out of business, but the tax only lasted a month. I ended up not paying a penny. There was no way anyone could verify how many heads stepped through the door. There isn’t a way to verify who comes in here. The queen would need hundreds, maybe thousands, of tax collectors in Presidon, and that would cost her more than any tax.”

“How come Princess Lilith has so much influence over the queen?” Trevor asked.

“Queen Hyra made Lilith her regent, but she retained her original power somehow. It is a legal loophole, one of my customers told me. Lilith runs most of the country, but the queen mucks up the works all the time, and she has enough power, so any taxes that she levies go to her rather than the royal treasury.”

Trevor nodded. “The agreement must have stipulated what comprised the royal tax base, and Queen Hyra finds ways to circumvent the regency agreement.”

“All I know is that none of the taxes lasts that long,” the server said.

“So, there must be a mechanism to stop them, and it takes time to get it done. Meanwhile, Queen Hyra collects the taxes and does what she wants with the money,” Trevor said.

“That is diabolical,” Win said.

The process seemed too devious for his mother, but did he ever really know her?

“I’ll make sure I have a conversation with Princess Lilith, then,” Trevor said with a smile. “Perhaps the regency agreement needs a revision.”

“There have been petitions,” the pub owner said. “Hey, you sound almost serious.”

“It’s part of the game,” Trevor said, laughing.

“You fooled me,” the server got up and grabbed the tray. Trevor rummaged around in his purse and gave her a few Jarkanese and Maskumite coins. “Just to prove we’ve been around. Not that you thought otherwise.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Why, thank you! Drinks are on the house the next time you stop by.”

Win nodded to the woman as they walked out. “Was that instructive?”

“If she told the truth, I believe so. She is a business owner, so that gives her more credibility than a regular citizen. It sounds like my mother is a handful and Lilith has the respect of the people. We know where some of her money goes.”

“For assassins,” Win said.

Trevor nodded.

Chapter Thirty-Two

~

T hey spent the next night in a village close to Tarviston. Trevor heard the same complaints about his mother and more praise for Lilith, although everyone wished more tax money would be spent on the people. Not everyone had recovered from the war of usurpation.

Before heading into Tarviston, Trevor decided to disguise Snowflake with a coating of mud. It hadn’t rained, but Win and Trevor had some fun giving the charger a mud bath. In a way, it seemed like ancient times returning for a moment before heading toward something less pleasant and certainly more deadly.

It was finally time to reenter Tarviston. It had been many months since Trevor passed through the southern gate, heading south to the Red Forest Garrison, his first posting as an army officer. Desolation Boxster was by his side for that trip.

This time an older, more experienced, and wiser, Trevor admitted, Win Fenton rode at his side. Win was anxious about his mother. He had gotten one letter during his time in Viksar. Finding Win’s parent was their first step.

There were many reminders of Trevor’s past life which he defined as pre-Boxster days before his father had finally cut him off from the rest of the family. To his right was the fence that bordered the training field that Trevor had spent all his time becoming an extraordinary soldier.

They rode up the street to the entrance to the army’s practice fields and stopped for a train of supplies crossing the road into the military compound.

“You look like a soldier,” one of the guards at the gate told Trevor as they waited.

“I’ve spent some time in the ranks,” Trevor said, which wasn’t exactly true. The only time he would have been considered in the ranks was when he spent a few weeks as a mercenary in West Moreton.

“There is a tournament this week,” the guard said. “You have the look that indicates you might do well.”

Trevor leaned over and patted Snowflake’s neck. “I don’t have any armor to speak of,” he said.

“Everything is provided. Why don’t you go in and report to the building on your left? If you are any good, you might make some prize money. If you don’t, the nonmilitary contestants get free board including meals and ale.”

“When is the tournament?” Win asked.

“Three days,” the guard said. “It’s the more, the merrier. You might even pick up a commission of some kind. Who knows?”

Trevor raised his eyebrows and looked at Win. He could spend a few days under Queen Hyra’s nose before he tried to show up at the palace. He hadn’t checked with Win, but Trevor could use the practice after the long ride from Maskum.

They nodded to the