Chapter 88: The Price of a Vote (1)
The First Watch held the western end of the Wall.
Garrick Dane had commanded it for twenty-six years, making him one of the oldest serving men on the Wall.
Encrid had hoped to convince him.
Having Dane on his side would mean more than simply gaining another vote. His word carried weight among the men who had spent their lives on the western battlements.
But Encrid did not even make it past the outer room.
"He knows why you are here, my lord."
The aide was young, and from the look on his face, it was obvious that he hated this particular job.
"He asked me to tell you that he holds nothing against you. Your work in the Quartermastery has been useful, and he appreciates it."
The young man hesitated.
"But he will be voting against you."
"May I speak with him?"
"He said you would ask that."
"And?"
"He said the answer would be the same."
The aide looked increasingly uncomfortable.
"And that the conversation would only end with one of you getting angry."
Encrid stood in the cold outer room and considered his options.
He did not have any.
"Then thank him for me," Encrid said.
He turned toward the corridor.
"And tell him I would rather be refused in three sentences than agreed with in twenty."
He paused.
"He will understand."
Encrid had made it two corridors down when he heard boots behind him.
He stopped.
Garrick Dane stood in the doorway.
He was a large man who had grown thick around the middle with age, with white showing through a beard that must once have been red. He did not come any closer.
"Twenty-six years," he said.
Encrid turned around.
"That is how long I have held the western end."
He looked at Encrid.
"You have been on this stone for four months."
"Five."
"Five."
Dane’s mouth moved slightly.
"I have four hundred men out there. Every one of them knows what I am."
He rested a hand against the door frame.
"I am the man who stood where they are standing. I climbed my way up from there."
His eyes remained on Encrid.
"That is the whole of my authority."
He paused.
"It is not the name of my house. I don’t have one."
Encrid said nothing.
"And a seat given for paperwork changes that."
Dane’s voice remained calm.
"The day you sit at that table, every boy on those stairs will learn that a seat on this Wall can be earned with a pen."
He looked at Encrid.
"Then what am I?"
Encrid finally understood the reason behind Commander Dane’s refusal.
It might have seemed trivial to him.
But it wasn’t.
The men who guarded the Wall had spent their lives believing that the only way to earn respect was to stand upon those walls and bleed for them.
If they began believing that they could rise higher by remaining behind a desk instead, then slowly, the very people the Wall depended on would begin to change.
Dane was protecting that belief.
Encrid understood it.
He simply could not agree with it.
"You would still be the man who has stood where they are standing."
Dane watched him for several seconds.
Then he nodded slowly.
"That is a good answer."
He paused.
"It is wrong."
His mouth twitched.
"But it is a good answer."
He stepped back toward the doorway.
"Good evening, my lord."
The door closed.
Encrid stood there for a moment.
"...Good evening, Commander Dane."
✧ ✧ ✧
Halvic Ostrand of the Third Watch let him in, gave him wine, sat him beside the fire, and spent forty minutes being extremely pleasant.
It took Encrid ten minutes to understand what was happening.
"And the timber question is really the whole of it," Ostrand was saying as he refilled a glass Encrid had not touched.
"The Works take what they need. The accounting has always been rough around the edges."
"It usually is."
"A man in the Third Office would understand how easily old entries might be carried forward instead of properly reconciled."
Ostrand smiled.
"There is no point opening four years of accounts that were never meant to be opened."
He leaned back.
"You understand what I mean, don’t you, my lord?"
"I do."
Encrid put the untouched glass down beside the fire.
He had known about the timber since March.
The Third Office’s records showed a discrepancy of roughly two hundred and forty tons over four years.
He had traced it back to the Third Watch within a week, locked the records in a drawer, and left them there.
A Wall at war did not need a scandal.
But he had kept the records.
And now Ostrand was practically handing him his own throat.
It would have been the easiest of the eleven votes.
One quiet sentence in a corridor.
No threat.
No accusation.
Just a mild remark about finally closing the old accounts.
Ostrand would have understood.
But Encrid did not do it.
Instead, he stood.
"Commander, I am going to be direct."
Ostrand’s smile faded slightly.
"You have earned that more than you have earned the wine."
Encrid looked directly at him.
"I know about the timber."
Ostrand’s expression did not change.
That was answer enough.
"Two hundred and forty tons, moved south over the Span under the Works’ name."
Encrid adjusted his coat.
"I have known about it for months. The records are in a locked drawer in the Third Office."
Ostrand remained silent.
"And?"
"I am not going to use them against you."
Encrid’s voice remained calm.
"Not for this. Not for anything else."
He paused.
"Unless one day what you are doing costs someone their life."
Ostrand’s eyes narrowed.
"If that happens, I will burn you down without hesitating."
Encrid picked up his coat.
"You should know that as well."
Ostrand stared at him.
"So you want nothing?"
"I want your vote."
Encrid put on his coat.
"And I want it because you believe I am right."
He looked at Ostrand.
"If you don’t, then I would rather lose."
He walked toward the door.
"Thank you for the fire."
He was almost out when Ostrand spoke again.
"That was a very expensive thing you just did, my lord."
"I know."
"You will not get my vote."
"I know that too."
Encrid let himself out.
He stood in the corridor for a moment with his hand still on the latch.
Four days.
Six votes.
And he had just thrown one away because he wanted to keep his hands clean.
He was almost certain it had been the right choice.
He was also certain he was going to spend the next two weeks wondering if it had been worth it.
Encrid sighed.
’Why do I have to be such a goody-two-shoes?’
✦ ✦ ✦