Kieri glanced up; was Galvary being funny? Or was that serious dislike of elves? “And the Crown?”

“Landholders owe the Crown, in kind or in coin, a portion of their production. Crafters, as well. Our taxes are not high, compared to what I know of Tsaia’s system, but neither do we have the expense of a large standing army. The forest rangers watch the borders and observe the taig.” He opened the first of the rolls on the table. “Here—this is last year’s accounting.”

The script looked different from Tsaia’s, though Kieri could read it after a moment. Wheat, oats, barley, straw, hay, tree-fruit and bush-fruit, staves and timber, each specified by the kind of tree … “We get all this in kind?”

“The Crown does, yes. It does not all come here. The Crown maintains granges—not like Girdish granges of course—stores of food and supplies in each faran, each district or shire I suppose you’d call it, for emergencies. Rangers draw supplies there, but also if there’s a flood, fire, or other disaster, relief supplies are at hand. What comes here supplies the palace, of course, though the Crown also has a large orchard and fields nearby.”

“That makes sense,” Kieri said. “Could the palace needs be met from those resources?”

“Not entirely. There’s a large staff, and their families; as well, the palace share serves as the reserve for Chaya. Eight years ago, we had a very bad winter, much harsher than usual, and the palace stores meant no one in the city went hungry.”

“That’s good,” Kieri said. He stared at the figures, trying to absorb it all. Accounting for the Company, or his own land, he was used to; this must be somewhat the same, but he could not fit his mind around Lyonya yet. He had not seen a map of it since his days in Falk’s Hall, training with the Knights of Falk. “Do you have a map of the land here?”

“Yes, sire, of course.” Another roll opened.

Kieri stared at it. He had forgotten exactly where the border with Prealíth was … how far from Chaya to the mountains. Each human domain had been marked out carefully: Belvarin, Galvary, Hammarrin, Tolmaric, Carvarsin … Halveric. Aliam’s place … he put his finger on it. “This is Aliam Halveric’s?”

“It belongs to the Halveric family—the Sier prefers to live here, in Chaya, and has granted his brother leave to stay at Halveric Steading and manage it for him.”

Kieri felt his brows rise. He’d thought Aliam owned that land, that house, where he himself had found refuge and where he had grown from a terrified, starveling boy into a man. He could not imagine any lady there but Estil.

He traced the border with Tsaia with his finger, then the trade roads marked along the river, along the foot of the Dwarfmounts. He saw no markings that looked like fortified holds. Aliam had a wall, but Chaya itself did not. “How much trouble has there been along the Tsaian border?”