“The town took its name from the berries on the hills, then?” asked Quaeryt.
“That’d be so, sir. Folks called the holder High Holder Berryhill. Don’t rightly recall what the family’s real name was. The place was burned out by Rex Kharst’s sire when my da was a boy. He said you could see the flames from here in town.”
“What did the holder do with all those berries?” asked Vaelora.
“They made jams and jellies and fancy sauces. They raised game fowl and fed ’em on the berries. My da said the holder shipped them downriver on his flatboats all the way to Kephria. That was when you could do that. River’s never been the same since they built that Great Canal. Don’t see why it was necessary. You could use the river all but three months out of the year.”
Quaeryt nodded, not voicing the thought that one major difference was that the canal allowed goods from the north and west to travel to and from Variana, not just one way, all year around. “Why did Kharst’s sire burn out the High Holder?”
“One day … one of the sons of the rex came to visit. That was Rex Kharst’s sire, but it was before he was rex. No one knows what happened. Some say he fancied the young wife of the holder. Others say he fancied the brother of the wife … Anyway, he left in haste and in anger. Weeks later the troopers came.”
“And no new holder came?” asked Quaeryt.
“The lands belong to the rex. Well, they did. I suppose they belong to Lord Bhayar now. Back then, the council sent a missive to Variana asking who to expect as the new High Holder. Never received an answer. So the folks graze their flocks there, careful like, and pick the berries. No one says much when travelers come during berrying season, but…” The innkeeper shrugged, then looked at Vaelora. “Might your brother be appointing a High Holder to bring back the berrying?”
“He will be appointing some new High Holders,” Vaelora conceded, “and I will certainly bring Berryhyl to his attention.”
“Be a shame for the lands to lie so poorly used,” added Brem.
“But it would take the right kind of High Holder,” Quaeryt said.
“Aye. Not ones like some around Semlem.”
“What do you know about them?” asked Quaeryt, for whom Semlem was just a town on the map located some fifty milles upriver.
“There’s two, maybe three, from what I hear. One was killed last fall when you folks defeated Kharst. He was the worst. Used to ride into town with his armsmen and pick up any lass he fancied. No one ever saw any of them again.”
“No one did anything?” asked Vaelora.
“He had two hundred armsmen. He owned the silver mines in the hills to the east. They say his heir’s not much better, but who would know?”
“And the others?” prompted Quaeryt.
“Can’t say I know, except one of them would graze his cattle on the lands of freeholders whenever water or forage got short. He’d just laugh and tell them to ask Rex Kharst for relief.”
After more stories, and another quint, Vaelora glanced meaningfully at Quaeryt.
Quaeryt smiled and rose, as did Vaelora. “We appreciated hearing what you had to say, but we’ve had a long ride today, and there are a few other matters we need to address.”
“I’d not be meaning to take your time…”
“No … the pleasure was ours.”
Quaeryt and Vaelora retreated to their room, one of the “grand chambers” overlooking the river, with not only a large and firm bed, but a separate bathing chamber, if one that required water be carried up by the inn’s chambermaids, a task Quaeryt had arranged.
After bathing and eating with the officers in a large private dining room that Quaeryt suspected had not been used much, if at all, in recent years, the two returned to their chamber.
In the dim light cast by a single wall lamp, Quaeryt sat in a chair, while Vaelora, propped up with pillows, stretched out on the bed.
“This land is fertile enough,” mused Vaelora. “It’s as if Kharst and his sire went out of their way to ruin it.”
Quaeryt shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say, dearest?”
“They didn’t want to make the effort to rule it. So they laid down a few rules and let it go at that. The first rule was not to thwart or oppose the rex. The second rule was to pay your tariffs. So far as I can tell, there wasn’t a third rule. That allowed the factors to act almost like local governments, but none of them dared to go further than that. The High Holders didn’t dare to act together because the moment one of them said or did anything, he was killed and his hold leveled. I imagine Kharst kept an ear and an eye out for any High Holder who tried to build up his armsmen, and the other High Holders probably would tell the rex as well, because none of them wanted a truly strong ruler to replace Kharst.”
“But why did Kharst attack Ferravyl?”
“You’ve seen the state of the Great Canal and of Ephra. He wanted an open route to Solis on the Aluse for his traders. They doubtless told him that would create more tariffs, and it would have. His marshals didn’t see that many Telaryn forces around Ferravyl. Initially, your brother was heavily outnumbered. And most people tend to believe that other people behave the way they do. Kharst knew your brother was young for a ruler, and probably didn’t understand that Telaryn was ruled far better than was Bovaria. He thought he had more troopers. His marshals thought so, too, and they knew Bhayar didn’t have that much in the way of cannon or muskets. Given all that, they weren’t about to tell Kharst they couldn’t attack. By the time they realized Telaryn was far stronger than they thought, it was too late.”
“That was because of you and your imagers, dearest.”
“Partly, but not totally. Because Telaryn has better roads, your brother could raise and bring more troops to Ferravyl than Kharst’s marshals realized. Even had we not been there, in the end, I believe his attacks would have failed.”
“At a terrible cost.”
“To both lands.”
Vaelora frowned, then reached for the leatherbound book on the side table. She paged through it quickly, then nodded, and moved the bookmark, before handing the volume to Quaeryt. “You might find this interesting. Start with ‘all men believe.’”
Quaeryt opened the book and began to read at the phrase she had spoken.
All men believe in something. That was one of Rholan’s favorite sayings. Even those who claim to believe in nothing are believing something, he would say. He often confounded people by asking about what they believed … and then told them things about themselves that he could not have possibly known. Conversely, he would listen to someone talk for a time, and then say something like, “The Nameless in which you believe weighs the acts of good and evil like lead weights upon a scale balance.”
The same was true of rulers, he believed, except that since they often acted like they were gods, they saw themselves reflected in the images of other rulers that they built in their thoughts. Thus, Lord Ofryk thought that Hengyst of Ryntar was more thoughtful, in the way that Ofryk himself was, while Hengyst hesitated to attack Tela because he could not believe, based on his own character, that Ofryk could have failed to prepare for war. That being so, Rholan was no fool, nor did he believe that shrewd men continued to persist in seeing themselves in others, and that only fools did so. By those lights, he regarded Hengyst as shrewd and Ofryk as a self-deluded fool.
As he closed the book and handed it back to Vaelora, he nodded and said, “I hadn’t remembered that passage. At least, I didn’t remember reading it, but it must have stuck in my thoughts somewhere.”
“Kharst was a fool, according to Rholan’s definition.”
“When I read that book, I get the feeling that Rholan thought most men were fools.” And, at one time or another, most of us are.
“He didn’t even bother to observe women,” said Vaelora.
“I doubt he would have been any more or less charitable.”
“In small ways, the book shows he was far less charitabl
e.”
Given Vaelora’s firm tone and, he had to admit to himself, what he’d read, Quaeryt wasn’t about to argue that. “You’re right, and that’s too bad.”
“Are you placating me?”
“If trying to avoid an argument when you’re right is placating … yes.”
Vaelora laughed softly. “You’re sweet when you try not to be so obvious in admitting something.”
“I thought I was very obvious.”
“You can be sweet about that, too.”
Quaeryt was definitely not about to argue that.
13
By leaving Berryhyl early on Solayi and putting in a long day, although only one minor bridge repair was required, and by leaving the small hamlet of Souwal early on Lundi morning, first company came into sight of Semlem just before second glass that afternoon. Even the southern outskirts of Semlem were anything but inspiring, with houses that were little more than large boxes with single-slant roofs and overlapped plank walls with peeling gray-washed walls and small windows.
“The men will like the extra time in a town,” said Khaern from where he rode beside Quaeryt.
“Even in this town?” asked Quaeryt.
“After all the hamlets, any town will do.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Quaeryt could see the faintest headshake from Vaelora.
The not-quite-ramshackle dwellings on the south side of Semlem slowly gave way to roughly dressed stone-walled homes and shops as they neared the center of Semlem—a stone-paved square with yet another statue in the middle.
Is the worship of the Nameless only a pretense here? Quaeryt wondered, especially when he saw a large anomen a block north of the square. Or did those who had been Rex of Bovaria believe that Naming was not a sin for rulers?
On the north side of the square was the inn, a structure smaller, if not by much, than the inn in Berryhyl, but one that was equally old, but more imposing by virtue of its gray stone construction. Quaeryt turned his mount toward the inn, and the necessary process of obtaining food and lodging for sums that would not exhaust his limited funds, but which would not also amount to outright commandeering of what he needed for men and mounts.
Once he had settled matters with the innkeeper, who seemed, if not agreeable, grudgingly accepting of Quaeryt’s offer for lodging and fare, Quaeryt relayed the billeting orders to Zhelan and the two subcommanders, then returned with Vaelora to talk with the innkeeper in the main entry hall.
“Who are the High Holders here?” Quaeryt asked.
“There’s Lenglan of Norwal. The old holder died in the battle at Variana. He’s the heir. So he’s the one owns the mines in the hills east of here. Got a hold house just north of town on the river. Then there’s Patarak. He doesn’t leave his place much, not since he got thrown in the hunt a few years back. Must be sixty if he’s a day. His estate is southeast, if you take the lane off the south pier for two milles.”
“Are there any others?”
“Depends on whether you count High Holder Farlan. Has a summer hold maybe ten milles north, right on the river. Don’t know where his main hold is, except it’s somewhere near Eluthyn.”
When Quaeryt finished with the innkeeper, he walked with Vaelora up the steps, following an inn chambermaid to their rooms.
“I think we’ll send a message to High Holder Lenglan, saying that we’ll be paying him a call between fourth and fifth glass.”
“If you’re going to give notice, I think you should bring a full company and the imagers.”
“I’d thought that. While you’re getting washed up and changed, I’ll talk it over with Zhelan, Khaern, and Calkoran before I decide on the company.”
“Changed? Into what?”
“Your best riding outfit.”
“None of them…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll work something out.”
After leaving Vaelora in their chamber, Quaeryt returned to the main level of the inn, sent a trooper with a message that he needed to meet briefly with his senior officers and the imager undercaptains, and repaired to the otherwise empty public room for Zhelan to gather the imager undercaptains and for Calkoran and Khaern to join them.
Calkoran was the first to arrive. Then came Khaern, followed by Zhelan and the undercaptains.
“Thank you all for coming quickly. This won’t take long. It’s only rumor, but I’ve been led to understand that High Holder Lenglan is a less than golden heir of a thoroughly disreputable sire who was a close acquaintance of Rex Kharst. The sire was at Variana and perished with Kharst. The father maintained an inordinate number of armsmen and specialized in the overt kidnapping and subsequent use of attractive young women who were never seen again. Lady Vaelora and I intend to pay a call on the High Holder between fourth and fifth glass. I need a company to deliver the invitation. The imager undercaptains will accompany the company and will provide the necessary persuasion. That persuasion is to be applied gradually, beginning with the removal of gates and walls and proceeding to the removal of guards and functionaries only as necessary. You undercaptains will need to shield yourselves and the company because I want no injuries or wounds to our troopers. Is that clear?”
The four undercaptains and Elsior nodded.
“Subcommanders?”
“We would be pleased,” offered Calkoran. “It would be a pleasure to deliver such a message to a Bovarian High Holder.”
“Thank you. We’ll await the results of your visit.”
Quaeryt spent another quint inspecting the inn and checking the stables and the progress of billeting before returning to Vaelora.
From the window in their inn chamber, Quaeryt could see the center of the town, with the usual square. To the west, if he leaned forward, slightly out the open window, he could also see the two river piers, but the upriver pier was unlike any he’d ever recalled seeing. It was U-shaped, and there was a flatboat tied in place, its stem firmly against the middle shore section of the pier. From the inn window, Quaeryt watched while two dray horses pulled a narrow but strongly constructed wagon up a ramp from the flatboat and onto the pier, and then up a paved ramp to the main street. As the wagon passed below, he could see that it was empty.
“What are you watching?” asked Vaelora from where she stood before a mirror and worked on her hair.
“An empty wagon coming off a flatboat. They must cart ore or rough metal north somewhere, and then return the horses and wagons by flatboat.”
“What would they do with the flatboats?”
“I don’t know, but there must be some use for them.”
A glass later, a ranker knocked on the door and informed Quaeryt that Calkoran’s company had returned. Quaeryt hurried down to the public room, where the undercaptains and Calkoran waited.
“How did it go?” asked Quaeryt.
Lhandor and Khalis exchanged glances. Horan shook his head ruefully.
Finally, Calkoran spoke. “The hold has large iron gates. There is a wall all around the house and the other buildings. The guards at the gate refused to speak to me. So Landor removed the gates. Then some crossbowmen fired at us. Horan shielded us. Khalis imaged away their crossbows. I said that they should convey your invitation to the High Holder. Someone rang a bell. Before long two squads came charging at us. The undercaptains imaged pepper and smoke into their ranks. That stopped most of them. The head of the guards threatened us. He used vile language. So I called on Baelthm. He put out both his eyes with silver daggers. I told him we were doing our best to convey a polite invitation. He wasn’t listening. His squad leader was. I told him that we really didn’t want to kill them all, but that they weren’t leaving us much choice.” Calkoran shook his head.
“And?”
“He laughed,” said Calkoran. “So I called on Khalis. He removed his neck and let his head fall on the ground. He stopped laughing. So did the others. The crossbowmen ran, and the riders rode away. The guards said they would convey your message.”
Quaeryt nodded slowly. “It appears
as though I’ll need you all when we call again on the good High Holder.”
“It would be our pleasure again,” insisted Calkoran.
“We’ll leave in a quint.”
When Quaeryt returned to the chamber, Vaelora immediately asked, “Well? Was he receptive?”
“Not in the slightest.” Quaeryt conveyed what had occurred.
“You’re not going to level the place?”
“Not yet. I’ll give the High Holder a last chance. Some of them do learn.” Besides … we don’t want to get in the habit of leveling every hold for reactions based on what they did in the past. We’d have to level too many of them.
* * *
Two quints later, Quaeryt, Vaelora, Calkoran, and the undercaptains rode up to the stone wall and the gate pillars that marked the entry to Norwal.
Four mounted guards with sheathed blades were stationed inside the walls.
While Quaeryt was ready to order the imagers to destroy a good section of the holding walls if there happened to be the slightest sign of resistance, the lead guard immediately called out, “High Holder Lenglan bids you welcome to Norwal.”
Then the four guards turned and rode slowly up the gray-stone-paved lane that led to the long two-story dwelling situated on the top of a rise overlooking the Phraan River to the west. The entry portico was on the east side.
“Subcommander,” said Quaeryt, “if you and the undercaptains will follow and remain in position near the hold house. Undercaptains, you’re to provide shields if there is any indication of trouble. If we do not return, although I do not expect that, you are to reduce the entire holding to rubble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Two footmen stood at the top of the steps leading up to the portico. When Quaeryt and Vaelora reined up, one announced, “Holder Lenglan awaits you.”
Quaeryt dismounted and held out the hand, his good one, that Vaelora did not need as she followed. They walked up onto the portico. Standing at the far side, just outside the open double doors to the hold, was Lenglan, a man of moderate height, with comparatively short brown hair, brownish hazel eyes. He wore a rich brown jacket over an ivory shirt, with trousers that matched his jacket, and well-polished brown boots. His welcoming smile included his eyes. The smile alone made Quaeryt exceedingly wary.
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