Rex Regis

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

“But the maps have the old provincial boundaries for Telaryn,” added Quaeryt. “If the mapmakers knew about those, then they would have drawn provincial boundaries for Bovaria … if Bovaria had provinces.”

  “No one said they didn’t.”

  “People don’t mention what doesn’t exist,” Quaeryt said dryly, “except for food and golds.”

  “You thought they didn’t, though.”

  “I did, but Bhayar’s going to need provincial governors, or the equivalent. That’s why I got the maps together. I wanted to see if we could figure out reasonable boundaries for governors before he’s forced into agreeing to governors’ territories by Deucalon or Myskyl … or just by necessity.”

  “How many governors are you thinking about?”

  “Telaryn had six, counting Tilbor. Bovaria isn’t as spread out, and a lot of the north doesn’t have many people, especially in the Montagnes D’Glace. I was thinking four, but I wanted to look at that map that shows the hills and mountains…”

  “You know … this is just another thing…”

  “I know. But you married me, and because of that, most of what we do will be forgotten or attributed to others. Calkoran mentioned that again the other day. The problem is that the alternative is worse.”

  “He said that in Khel, too.” Vaelora smiled. “We’ll just have to make sure that brother dear gets the credit and not Deucalon or Myskyl.”

  Somewhat more than a glass later, Quaeryt and Vaelora had sketched out rough boundaries for four regions of Bovaria, each with a larger town or city from which a regional governor could administer the surrounding area. Laaryn was one of those, and that would make an easy transition for whoever followed Meinyt, assuming Bhayar agreed to something at least similar to what Vaelora and Quaeryt had sketched out.

  After that, he sent a messenger to have the duty squad ride to the Chateau Regis to meet them at the first glass of the afternoon. During the interim, he and Vaelora toured the Chateau Regis, taking notes on the still-vacant chambers of the large structure and determining where the best place for administration and logistics might be.

  Both Quaeryt and Vaelora were on the front steps of the chateau a quint before the glass. The sky was slightly hazy, and a cool but not cold breeze blew out of the northeast.

  “The entry and the drive look much better,” observed Vaelora.

  “They should.” Quaeryt still didn’t like the raw dirt around the carriage park and bordering the new drive, but imaging wasn’t good for creating the growing plants for gardens and parks. That took gardeners and time.

  “Where are we riding?”

  “From the Chateau Regis along the road we’ll have to rebuild all the way to the River Aluse, then down along the west shore to the isle of piers.”

  “You want to have a good look at what the imagers will need to do.”

  “And a better look at this part of Variana. You might recall that I didn’t see all that much of it before we set out for Khel.”

  Before long a squad from Eleventh Regiment rode up the west drive and reined up.

  “Good afternoon, Lady, sir,” said the squad leader, inclining his head and motioning for a ranker to lead the black mare and gelding forward for Vaelora and Quaeryt to mount.

  “Good afternoon,” replied Vaelora cheerfully before mounting.

  Quaeryt just nodded, smiled, and mounted. Then he and Vaelora led the way down the eastern drive toward the old road and the north bridge over the River Aluse. Although the calendar date was the first of Avryl, the midpoint of spring, most of the trees were still leafing out, and many of the spring flowers were still budding.

  Was that because of what you did? Quaeryt half smiled at the thought, reminding himself that the trees and flowers had been leafing out just as slowly all the way along the last hundred milles of their ride along the Great Canal.

  For the first half mille from the Chateau Regis, there were no dwellings, just the smoothed over remnants of earthworks that had been dug into what had been Rex Kharst’s park surrounding the chateau. Closer to the river there were modest shops and dwellings, and while some still showed damages, most of them seemed to be occupied, although there were few people on the streets, unsurprisingly for a Solayi afternoon.

  When they neared the River Aluse, Quaeryt and Vaelora reined up short of the north bridge itself, and Quaeryt studied the old stone structure barely wide enough for two wagons side by side. “We need a better bridge.”

  “The one south of the isle is worse,” said Vaelora.

  “I haven’t seen it. You looked at it when I was recovering?”

  “We came by the roads on the north side of the river. So we rode through Variana and over the south bridge. It’s narrower and older.”

  “That figures. Neither Kharst nor any of his forbears wanted to spend much on roads or bridges—except for the road from Nordeau to Chateau Regis.” Quaeryt shook his head, then turned to the squad leader. “We’ll head south along the river road now.” What he called the river road was more like a cobbled lane. Another imager project.

  The river was still running high, well above its normal level. That, Quaeryt could tell because he could see that parts of a stone pathway on the east side of the river were almost a yard underwater.

  Less than half a mille south of the north bridge, Quaeryt reined up to study the north end of the isle of piers, an expanse of mudflats, brush, and rubbish washed onto the flats, apparently by earlier spring runoff. The flats extended only twenty yards or so before ending in a rocky escarpment that rose at least a good five yards above the flats.

  Quaeryt nodded. He’d thought that the majority of the isle was well above the river, and if the imagers built a stone retaining wall, almost like the prow of a ship, at the north end, that would help protect the rest of the isle as well.

  After studying the northern part of the isle, he, Vaelora, and the duty squad continued southward until they reached a point opposite the middle of the isle, where he again called a halt.

  “You’ll need a bridge across to the isle,” said Vaelora.

  “I know. I’d thought about imaging one today, but…” He smiled wryly and shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because as soon as there is a bridge, the poor and those with nowhere else to go will sneak across it in darkness, and that will make improving the isle just that much more difficult.” He didn’t mention that it was likely many of those who were homeless were likely so because of his own efforts in the battle of Variana.

  As he looked across the river to the isle, amid the ruined buildings, toward the southern end of the isle, he thought he saw what might be—or have been—an anomen between two sagging warehouses … an old anomen. Can you restore it? He smiled at the thought, the idea that he wanted to restore the anomen to a deity he wasn’t certain even existed. You’d better find a good chorister first, or you’ll end up being pressed into giving more homilies and conducting services.

  “Why are you smiling?” asked Vaelora.

  “There’s an old anomen over there in the ruins.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “I didn’t say you did,” he replied with a grin, “but you do have this penchant for fixing up anomens…”

  “Only one.” She smiled back at him.

  He shook his head ruefully, then said, “We should head back. I hope the south road to the chateau is in better repair.”

  “It isn’t,” replied Vaelora.

  “You would have to tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  They both smiled.

  19

  On Solayi evening, Quaeryt and Vaelora dined with Bhayar, who peppered them with questions about what they had observed on their journey back from Kephria. Their observations on the High Holders and factors led into Bhayar’s tales of the endless petitions he had received from factors, not to mention the suggestions for improving trade, and removing the tariffs on trade sent down the River Aluse to Solis. That Bhayar h
ad received almost no communications from High Holders tended to confirm Quaeryt’s sense of how Kharst had ruled.

  A quint before seventh glass on Lundi morning, Quaeryt was in Bhayar’s study.

  “Deucalon will be here shortly,” announced Bhayar, standing beside his desk. “I thought you might have a few things you wanted to talk over first.”

  “I do.” Quaeryt spread the rough map on the writing table, remaining on his feet. “This is the map we mentioned to you last night. It shows the boundaries for four regions of Bovaria, with regional governors located in Laaryn, Villerive, Rivages, and Asseroiles. In time, as roads improve, you might wish to change those cities, but all of them are located on rivers for access.”

  Bhayar studied the map, then nodded. “I need to think about this.”

  Quaeryt had expected no less, especially given the small number of regional governors he and Valeora had suggested. “There’s also the question of how soon you want me to begin as Minister of Administration and Supply. There are unoccupied studies on the main level”—more than a few, in fact—“but I’ll need clerks and some small amount of golds for tables and cases. Not to mention ledgers. I’m assuming that you don’t want me operating out of the headquarters holding.”

  “Take the studies you need, and I’ll get you some golds.”

  “Do you want me to take custody of the Bovarian treasury, or just draw on it?”

  “Draw on it until you think you can handle it, and then we’ll talk again.”

  “Also, I’d like to involve Vaelora. She has a good head, and she’s trustworthy.” And I can trust her if you send me off somewhere.

  Bhayar frowned, tilted his head, but finally nodded.

  “I’m going to have to find clerks as well. I thought I’d ask for rankers or squad leaders who were wounded, leg injuries, and the like, who know their letters and numbers and who are well recommended. If there aren’t any … then I’ll have to look to local clerks from factors who’ve lost their master to failure or death.” From there Quaeryt went on, until he’d reached the last matter dealing with administration. “How do you want me to proceed in notifying the factors about their ‘token’ tariffs? I’d suggest my having letters prepared for your signature.”

  “I’m agreeable to that. Anything that brings in more golds would be useful.”

  “Has Deucalon said anything about Meinyt acting as a regional governor? Or Skarpa as acting governor of Antiago?”

  “Only that he hopes such can be temporary.” Bhayar’s smile was sardonic.

  “Temporary? In Antiago? When you still have a marshal as governor in Tilbor after twelve years?”

  “Oh … he certainly thinks there will be a need for a governor there for years.”

  “He’d prefer, perhaps, Commander Kharllon? Or would he like the position?”

  “Kharllon, I would think,” replied Bhayar. “In time, Deucalon would likely prefer a high holding and the position of whatever regional governor whose territory includes the River Aluse from Ferravyl to Variana.”

  “Deucalon might actually be adequate at that,” conceded Quaeryt. Maybe.

  Bhayar’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve never cared for him. Why would you approve him as a regional governor?”

  “Because the behaviors I dislike in him as a marshal are those that might make him useful as a governor. He’s cautious and deliberate.” And I don’t want to give the impression of disliking all the old senior officers. “Myskyl is the one I not only dislike, but distrust. When the time comes, if you have to, give him a high holding in the most distant locale possible, but one with a great deal of land, most of it rugged or inhospitable.”

  Bhayar chuckled. “And you … you don’t want such?”

  “You know what I want.”

  Bhayar nodded. “You’ve made that clear. You’ve also shown how useful the imagers can be under you, just since your return. What are your immediate plans for them?”

  “To finish a circular avenue around Chateau Regis with paved avenues to the north and south bridges. To rebuild both bridges, and then to rebuild the isle of piers … as you agreed.”

  “I did agree,” said Bhayar. “I didn’t say when.” He held up a hand. “I’m not telling you to stop with your projects. I hope I don’t have to, because they’ll benefit everyone. I do reserve the right to call you and the imagers in case of need. There’s no need at present, but I still have not had a recent dispatch from Submarshal Myskyl.”

  That sounds like trouble. But Quaeryt said nothing, and only nodded.

  There was a knock on the study door, and the squad leader stationed there announced, “Marshal Deucalon, sir.”

  “Have him come in.”

  Deucalon stepped into the study.

  Quaeryt thought that the slender, if wiry, gray-haired marshal looked more haggard, and definitely older, as if he had aged five years in the time Quaeryt had been away from Variana. But why? He hasn’t been doing any fighting … and what he’s been doing can’t be as hard as handling Northern Army was during the campaign. Or was it just the fact that Deucalon was getting older, and his age had caught up with his looks?

  “Good morning, Lord Bhayar … Commander.” Deucalon smiled pleasantly.

  Bhayar motioned to the conference table, but did not speak until the three were seated. “I’ve given Marshal Deucalon a brief description of your mission to Khel and the events that followed. Do you have any questions, Marshal?”

  “I have many more questions than would be profitable, especially given that what has occurred has apparently turned out for the best.” Deucalon looked at Quaeryt. “I am somewhat surprised that you did not insist that Submarshal Skarpa send advance notice of his decision to invade Antiago … or even to request the approval of Lord Bhayar.” Deucalon smiled warmly.

  “I can certainly understand your concerns, Marshal, but the submarshal was tasked with obtaining the allegiance of the southern High Holders. That would have been impossible and remained so as long as Aliaro continued as Autarch of Antiago. As you may recall, Antiagon forces and Antiagon Fire were deployed against Southern Army in the campaign to take Bovaria. In addition, Antiagon warships attacked the Montagne and the Solis on their voyage to Kherseilles. All element of surprise would have been lost, had the submarshal waited for approval.”

  Deucalon nodded sagely. “I can understand that, but do you not feel that the effort of subduing and governing Antiago might … overextend our forces?”

  “If we were talking about such an effort in Khel,” Quaeryt replied, “I would agree wholeheartedly. Even after years of battles and effort, Rex Kharst still only controlled Khelgror and the major port cities. Truly subduing Khel would be impossible at this time. Antiago is a very different land. There are only six cities, and one of them, Kephria, was little more than a shell of itself, while three will accede to whoever holds Liantiago. That leaves Liantiago and Westisle, and the submarshal’s forces are well able to control both.”

  “You do seem to have considered those factors. Tell me,” asked Deucalon, still smiling, “if you would, when we might expect the allegiance of Khel?”

  Quaeryt smiled politely in return. “The High Council of Khel is considering the matter. Once they receive word that Lord Bhayar holds Antiago, it is likely that they will reach a decision, but it will not be in the next few weeks. It is also possible that they may send a delegation here … or request another delegation to meet them in Saendeol or Khelgror to work out the terms of that allegiance.”

  “Terms of allegiance?”

  “Terms,” replied Quaeryt. “Even after the Khellans lost a third of their people to the Red Death, they still destroyed over half of the forces Kharst sent to conquer them. The land is rugged, and as you pointed out, any campaign to force a total capitulation from the High Council will be unfeasible for years. On the other hand, Khel has much to gain from pledging allegiance to Lord Bhayar, and negotiated terms would be far less costly, and far more beneficial.”

  “Wha
t about your imagers? Surely they could force favorable terms.”

  Quaeryt shook his head. “We could indeed level every town and city in Khel … but the Pharsi would flee into the hills, leaving us with a barren wasteland of little value. There is also the fact that the Pharsi have dealt with imagers for generations. We lost two of ten imagers in dealing with Kharst’s forces, who had never faced trained imagers. We would likely lose more in fighting Khel … and gain far less.”

  “That seems…” Deucalon paused.

  “Strange as it may seem, it is likely true,” interjected Bhayar smoothly. “Commander Quaeryt has been unusually effective … and accurate … in his understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of our enemies.”

  Deucalon nodded. “I have seen just how effective he is at that, and how he has used that knowledge to the benefit of his forces.”

  And you still can’t forget that I stopped you from squandering my men unnecessarily. But Quaeryt refrained from commenting.

  “There is one other matter,” said Bhayar. “Commander Quaeryt has considerable experience in matters of supply and logistics. You may recall that he was princeps of Tilbor. Marshal Straesyr recommended his skills highly, and he put the Montagne governorship to rights more quickly than anyone could have imagined. Governor Markyl even wrote me to note how well organized he found matters in Extela.”

  Deucalon’s forehead bore only the trace of a frown as he listened.

  “I’ve decided to put his experience to use. For now, he will be acting as a minister for administration and supply for Bovaria.”

  “The armies will be sad to lose such a valuable commander,” said Deucalon.

  “Oh … he will remain a commander in charge of Eleventh Regiment, the Khellan battalion, and his first company,” replied Bhayar. “I’m just using his talents as I did in Montagne, to get matters better organized while we work out a permanent arrangement for governing three lands.”

  Deucalon nodded.

  “He will need one of your clerks who is familiar with the supply ledgers for the armies, but he will be finding others as well.”