Heart on the Line: 3. Foundations

[clare_dragonfly]

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everything's fine, except you've got that look in your eye
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Six months later

“You can’t raise taxes on Plains,” Artona said. “They’re the breadbasket of Caila. I know,” she added, holding up her hand to forestall his objection, “there are farms in North, and West and Oceanside provide a lot of fish and seaweed. But Plains is the only source of meat on the entire colony, and eighty percent of our grain and dairy come from there.”

“That’s exactly why we need to raise taxes on them!” Mark planted his hands flat on the table, jutting his chin forward. “They’ve been lightly taxed for generations, and they’ve become disproportionately wealthy. There’s more wealth per capita in Plains than there is even in East.”

“And that’s a problem, why, exactly?” Artona raised her eyebrows. “You know we need more immigration to Plains. They’re not using even half of the good land there. If the colony is ever going to expand, we need more food. People from East and North are going to Plains for the money and they’re staying because their children are healthy.”

Mark leaned back, shaking his head. His lip curled, and Artona’s stomach twisted. She hated that expression. That expression meant he was thinking she wasn’t good enough, she was the wrong choice, that no one who hadn’t grown up on Caila could ever understand the way their politics and economy worked.

But she did understand. Better than him, maybe. She knew galactic history, required by her education on Halos; he only knew Caila history, and the idealistic way its founders had set it up. They might have had good intentions, but people were still people, and she was certain that if the people of Plains had the tax hike he was recommending, they would revolt, and then people—especially the people of Mountain, South, and East provinces, where the land was hard and food was scarce—would starve.

“Everything on Caila belongs to everyone on Caila,” he said with strained calm. “If we tax Plains at a higher rate, the people in Mountain and East will benefit from that tax. They’ll be able to live wherever they want. People who have been miners for generations will not have to pull up roots and become farmers.”

She sighed and looked away from him, willing herself not to get angry. He did make a few good points. And she really didn’t want to fight with him. She wondered again, for the hundredth time in the six months she’d been here on Caila, whether she would have come here to live with Mark if she’d known he was the ruler. She loved him, but politics were an enormous strain on his marriage.

“When we speak with the rest of the lords, let’s offer them two proposals,” she said, measuring out each word. “One, your twenty percent income tax hike for Plains. The other, my sales tax idea. It will affect the people of Plains, because they export so much to the other provinces, but it won’t seem unfair and disproportionate.” And she was pretty sure Lord Mayor Nicholas would object to both proposals and look for something gentler than either one, but if all they had was Mark’s proposal, Nicholas would be offended and angry, and it could cause an irreparable rift in Caila politics—and possibly the secession of Plains province. There was nothing in their constitution to prevent it.

Not that she thought there was any reason for the provinces to remain one nation; Plains would probably be better off separate. From the history reading she’d been doing, she understood that the founders of Caila had wanted the provinces to be able to separate without civil war in the case of irreconcilable differences. But if Plains seceded, the remaining provinces would be much worse off, since surely Plains would seek to line its coffers by charging enormous tariffs. And the other provinces would have to pay it, because of the reasons she’d just given.

“Fine,” Mark said, but she could tell he was still skeptical of her plans. He believed the other Lords Mayor would back him. Maybe they would, but at least there was an in-between possibility.

“Let’s move on to Central-specific questions,” she said. “There’s an application from a Gregory and Rachel to be permitted to join the merchants. I don’t see any reason to keep them out of it. There’s plenty of opportunity. And the next trade ship will be here in just a few days.”

“Fine,” said Mark again, but this one was less reluctant. “We do need more merchants anyway. Let me see it?” She handed him the application, and he skimmed over it. “I don’t see any reason to deny them. We’ll get them set up with their gold and silver tomorrow morning.”

They went through a few more minor administrative questions, some—like the taxation—things that would eventually be voted on by the entire population, and some things that Artona and Mark had the power to do alone. A significant rebuilding of the east end of the city was approved, a proposed dam on the river that ran through the north part of the province tabled pending more information. At last Mark stood up and held his hand out to Artona. She looked at him quizzically. He smiled with an effort.

“Let’s go home,” he said. “Just be a couple for a while. We could both use that.”

She smiled, took his hand, and allowed him to help her up. “You’re right. I just feel guilty taking a break.”

“Well, we’ve gotten through all of today’s business,” he pointed out. “Tomorrow, the merchants and the Lords Mayor. Tonight, Mark and Artona.” He pulled her close and kissed her. She closed her eyes and kissed him back.

Later, after a dinner in which they’d eaten fine food and drunk too much golden spirits and flirted outrageously in front of the servants, and an enjoyable if short session of lovemaking, Artona lay in the bed staring at the dark ceiling above them. Mark was next to her, curled with his knees and hands toward her, fully asleep. She wondered if he’d really wanted to spend time alone with her (considering how much he’d had to drink) or had just wanted to get her into bed.

She put one hand on her still-flat stomach. She knew he wanted children. She did, too, but she wasn’t in any hurry. Caila politics seemed to demand that he hurry. She just worried that a child would break apart their already-strained relationship. And she didn’t know if she wanted to bring a new innocent into the complexities of Caila politics.

Maybe it didn’t matter how much she thought about it, though. They weren’t using any birth control, but she still wasn’t pregnant. The child would come in time, she was sure. She didn’t need to worry about it. She shut her eyes firmly and lulled herself to the sound of Mark’s breathing.

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"I'd rather be with your friends mate 'cause they are much fitter."
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The next morning went smoothly, adding Gregory and Rachel to the group of merchants who would haggle with Captain Ran on behalf of the government and get all the supplies to where they were needed (including the national and provincial treasuries); the new merchant couple were grateful, and the existing merchants were glad to have more help, enthusiastically welcoming them and taking them off to a coffee shop to chat about the job. It was in the afternoon, when all the Lords Mayor arrived, that things started to get more difficult.

As Artona had predicted, Lord Mayor Nicholas was furious about Mark’s tax proposal. Mark tried to explain why more tax revenue was needed—antibiotic prices were going up, and perhaps more importantly (or so he seemed to think), he needed a greater personal income now that he had a family—but the red-bearded lord’s face just grew redder and redder until Artona, fearing a burst blood vessel, interceded to offer her more equitable tax proposal. Nicholas calmed down quickly.

What she hadn’t expected was the opposition. Lord Mayor Jacob of Mountain province and Lord Mayor Kevin of East province were almost as furious about Artona’s proposal as Nicholas was about Mark’s. Naturally, they didn’t want taxes raised on the gold, silver, and platinum they exported—so much of it already went to pay for things the entire planet needed—but they’d always seemed reasonable in the past. Their people would have to vote on any tax proposals, but they could only vote on what the lords brought to the table, and they normally all seemed willing to find proposals that would be fair to all of the provinces.

When Lord Mayor Noah of South province, the smallest and least prosperous of the provinces and certainly the one with the least to lose on higher sales taxes, joined in against Artona’s proposal, she knew that they weren’t really just thinking about taxes.

“We haven’t heard from everyone yet,” she said, pitching her voice to be heard over the shouting. Since she was the only woman at the table, it wasn’t hard. They didn’t stop talking, but they did lower their voices.

She shot her eyes over to the Lords Mayor of North, Oceanside, and West provinces. They hadn’t put in their stake in this argument. They all had exports, though only Oceanside had any precious metals, and they had much less to trade than East and Mountain. “Do any of you have anything to add? Please, feel free to suggest an alternative tax structure, if you have any ideas that seem more equitable.” They did need to raise revenues, after all. She knew she was cutting out South, Mountain, and East from the option of suggesting alternatives, but since all they’d been doing for the last ten minutes was getting angrier and angrier at each other, it didn’t seem like they were going to come up with decent ideas anytime soon.

“I think everyone knows what it is I believe we should do,” said Lord Mayor Adam of Oceanside. His voice was quiet, but intense.

Jacob sneered. If they hadn’t been indoors, in the sacrosanct hall of government, Artona thought he might have spat on the floor to show his contempt for Adam’s idea. “You’re a fool, Adam.” He gestured, taking in the Lords Mayor of Oceanside, North, West, and Plains. “You’re all fools.”

“Will someone educate me?” Artona asked. She tried to keep her voice level and calm; she didn’t know why she was the only woman allowed at the table, but if it had to do with stereotypes about women being emotional and hysterical, she didn’t want to feed into them and get kicked out. She glanced around the table, taking in the obvious factions: Oceanside, North, West, and Plains on one side, and South, East, and Mountain on the other. Geographically, it made some sense, but it was clearly not geography that kept these men on opposite sides of an argument. And where did Central fit in?

Everyone had stopped arguing by now. At least they were listening to her. “Please tell me what Lord Adam’s idea is. And if four lords agree, we should at least consider that idea more carefully.” Her eyes slid to Mark. He wasn’t happy. Yes, Central Province was likely on the same side as South, East, and Mountain. It had been his tax proposal that they preferred, after all.

Adam placed his big hands flat on the table. “We should explore the rest of the planet—we haven’t even colonized half of this continent, and there are islands and another large continent that have hardly been touched on at all. There are certainly more mountains that may hold precious metals, and there may very well be other things that we simply have not found yet that are worth exporting. We know that there are enormous animals on the other continent, or there were, when Caila was first colonized. Perhaps their fur is better for warmth. Perhaps there are plants somewhere that can be used for medicines.” His voice rose as Lord Mayor Noah tried to speak, and he glared at the other lord. “That would make us both happy! We don’t need to stretch ourselves thin to keep our connection to the rest of the galaxy. We don’t need to lose any of our wealth.”

“That’s not the question at all!” Noah slammed his fist down on the table. Artona jumped slightly, then watched him warily. Would this strange argument come to blows? Some of the lords looked ready to fight. “Our ancestors came here to remove themselves from the corruption of galactic society. We have the resources, we have the people. We have our own wealth. We don’t need to keep trading with them. Raising taxes to pay the exorbitant fees they want for the things they think we need is only thrusting the problem onto our people, who can ill afford it.”

“We have a responsibility!” cried Jacob as Noah nodded. “We cannot just take their hard-earned money to keep paying our parasite.”

“That responsibility is exactly why we must use the taxes for the good of all of Caila!” snapped Nicholas. “Until we have a better way of keeping people alive, until we can create our own antibiotics and antivirals and warm clothing, we cannot break our connection to the rest of the galaxy. Would you let the people of Mountain Province die of illness while clutching their gold to their chests?”

“I would rather that than slowly starve them by increasing their taxes every year to feed a galactic beast that will not be satisfied!” Jacob shouted.

Artona watched in horrified fascination. The part of her mind that was detached, that was still a galactic citizen, wondered if this argument had been ready to erupt today no matter what—if they’d really been listening, they probably would have taken opposite sides. But Nicholas wouldn’t like anything tax-related that came from Mark or the rest of his independent-Caila side to begin with.

The part of her that had fallen in love not only with Mark but with his planet was terrified and seeking frantically for a solution that would make both sides happy. If these two factions pulled apart, creating two different nations, both would suffer and likely wither. The pro-galactic side would never be able to survive without Central Province and its spaceport. The independent-Caila side would starve without Plains Province and sicken without the rest of the galaxy.

“How long has this debate been going on?” she asked. If it had been a problem for generations, then most likely it only came to a head at times of great stress like this one. Obviously they had stayed together and kept their connection to the galaxy despite previous debates. And if the argument had only begun recently, perhaps some of the lords did not have such strong opinions and could be yet swayed.

No one, however, appeared to hear her. Instead, Mark spoke to the rest of the table, his voice cutting across the arguments that were still going on. “Perhaps we can find some way to cut expenses instead of raising taxes. I agree, we must rid ourselves of the parasitic influence of the rest of the galaxy. We cannot afford to both explore and trade, so we must cut one out.”

“If we explore and find the wealth that I know is on Caila, the rest of the galaxy will no longer seem like a parasite,” said Adam. “They will come to us. They will see Caila as a place of power and let us choose our terms.”

“It doesn’t matter!” said Jacob. “Whether it’s our terms or theirs, as long as we keep trading with them we will be dependent on them. Our people do not care what the rest of the galaxy thinks of their planet. They only care to live their lives at peace—and that means out of the way of the galaxy’s wars.”

They continued to argue, but Artona hardly heard them. Horror had run down her spine and frozen her at Mark’s words. He was not on the pro-galactic side. He saw the rest of the galaxy as a parasite. So what did he think about her? Why had he brought her here and married her if she was from such a terrible society?

Perhaps he was only trying to conciliate both sides. He had offered the possibility of trade to Adam while seeming to agree with Jacob that the galaxy was a parasite. But no, now he was joining the debate in earnest, and he was growing angry. She shrank away from him. She had seen that anger before, but only briefly. Now it was building with every passing moment as both sides refused to budge.

It was a baffling debate to her. How could they consider cutting themselves off from galactic trade before even trying to find out if Caila had any of its own medicines—or better yet, building the infrastructure necessary to manufacture medicines on the planet? “Caila will die without its connection to the rest of the galaxy,” she said aloud, hardly thinking but needing to make sure they knew what to her was blindingly obvious.

Michael slammed his hand onto the table in triumph. “See, the Lady knows what she’s talking about.”

“Artona, this doesn’t concern you,” said Mark. He wasn’t looking at her. “This was a mistake. I knew women shouldn’t be allowed at the lawmakers’ table.”

“No, let the Lady speak,” said Nicholas, frowning. “She knows more about the rest of the galaxy than any of us.”

“What difference does that make?” said Jacob. “It doesn’t matter what the galaxy thinks. Caila is for Caila.”

“It does matter,” said Artona, feeling her stomach churn with anxiety and anger. Mark still wouldn’t look at her. “Jacob, you think the galaxy is a parasite, isn’t that right? That it’s feeding off Caila’s wealth?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond, though he obviously wanted to—it was a rhetorical question, anyway. “I can tell you it’s not. Hardly anyone in the rest of the galaxy even thinks about Caila. It’s just another small, backwater planet with little relevance to the economy. If Caila stopped trading, the only person in the rest of the galaxy who would notice would be Captain Ran, and she would just have to find a new trade route. Caila’s trade loss would just be absorbed. But Caila needs the rest of the galaxy. Stop trading for wool and delicacies if you must, but the medicines are necessary. If you truly want to be independent, that would be my suggestion as the first step. But there’s nothing in the Constitution of Caila about being completely independent from the rest of the galaxy, so you’ll all have to come to a decision on that.” She finally ran out of words and breath, and sat there clenching her fists in her lap, trying not to show her trembling. She’d never spoken this much in front of so many powerful men before—especially not so many who were hostile to what she had to say.

Noah made a dismissive sound. “The founders of Caila wanted it to be self-sufficient. Everyone knows that.”

“If so, they didn’t consider it important enough to put into the constitution,” she said. “I’ve been studying the laws and history for months. I know it by heart. The founders never expected to cut off trade with the galaxy.”

Nicholas smirked. Artona didn’t like the smirk, but at least he was on her side. “We can put it into the constitution, of course. It’s been done before. But the entire country has to vote with a majority, and the four of us will speak against it.”

“It might be a goal we can work toward,” said Adam. “Exploration, and cutting down on trade as Lady Artona suggested. But we can’t just cut ourselves off.”

Jacob stood up. “You’re all fools. Weak. The longer we let the galaxy bleed us dry, the worse off we’ll be. Mountain Province will not be accepting any more of the galaxy’s misguided charity.”

Artona set her jaw and looked up at him—he must have stood to make everyone look up to see him, but she wouldn’t let herself be angry about that. “The galaxy does not extend charity. It makes business deals. And I think you’re being cruel to your people, and a poor custodian of your province, to cut them off from necessary medicine.”

He stared at her as though he’d been slapped in the face. She wondered if she should regret her choice of words—she hadn’t picked “custodian” deliberately, but perhaps it had been a subconscious choice, knowing that the founders of Caila had seen all of the lords as custodians of their people. That was their main purpose in life. To tell Jacob he was bad at it had offended him to his very core. But that was what was needed, wasn’t it? To show him how very wrongly he was acting.

She began to grow nervous as he stared at her without speaking. Perhaps he was waiting for her to take back her words. But no, she could not. No matter how offended he was, it was what she truly believed.

Then, without a word, he turned and stalked out of the room. Kevin and Noah scrambled out of their seats and followed him. A moment later, so did Mark. He glanced at Artona before he left, and she started to reach out to him, but before she could fully extend her hand he turned away and left.

The others waited in silence as the footsteps of the four men retreated. Then the great front doors of Caila hall slammed, echoing throughout the building. There was no other sound.

The four lords would not be returning.

Adam turned to Artona. His eyes were wide, and his voice was soft and shaking. “My lady. What should we do?”

Artona buried her face in her hands. “Don’t ask me. Lord, lord, don’t ask me.”

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