“Will he be taking on the army logistics?”
“No. Your staff will function largely as it has. At some point, of course, the commander’s temporary ministry and the finance ministry of Telaryn will have to be combined, but that cannot happen for some time. The commander first has to build a staff that can be combined.”
“Of course.”
“I wanted you to know this so that there would not be any confusion.”
“I understand, sir,” replied Deucalon.
“Do you have any further inquiries of Commander Quaeryt?” asked Bhayar, in a tone that suggested further inquiries were unnecessary.
“No, sir.”
“Then you may go, Commander. I look forward to seeing the results of your imagers’ work.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Quaeryt as he rose, then inclined his head politely. He did not don his visor cap until he left the study.
Once he left the Chateau Regis, Quaeryt rode to meet with Khaern, Calkoran, and Zhelan in the headquarters study he’d taken over, after inquiries and negotiations with Subcommander Ernyld, since Skarpa wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon, and since Commander Luchan was in the north with Myskyl.
“Any news, sir?” asked Khaern.
“No. Lord Bhayar hasn’t heard from Submarshal Myskyl for a time, but we’re to make reasonable haste on his roadworks projects and the bridges before we can work on the isle of piers.”
“How long do you think the roads and bridges will take, sir?” asked Zhelan.
“Longer than I’d like, but we have fewer imagers.”
“The young one is already getting better, I hear,” said Zhelan.
“He is improving,” Quaeryt acknowledged.
“Do you think there’s trouble in the north, sir?” asked Khaern.
Wherever Myskyl is, there’s likely to be trouble. “If there is, we’ll likely be sent there. So far, there’s no word of trouble. There’s just no word.”
“Some have said that no word is a good word,” said Calkoran slowly. “In matters of arms and war, having no word is seldom good.”
“You could be right,” replied Quaeryt, “but we report to Lord Bhayar, and we’re to remain here until he says otherwise.”
When he finished with his senior officers, Quaeryt left the study to join the imager undercaptains and the day’s duty company from Eleventh Regiment. All were formed up and waiting when he stepped out into the rear courtyard of the headquarters building. In moments he had mounted and led the column out.
Lundi was similar to Solayi, except that the day was longer, and knowing that, Quaeryt spaced out the intervals between imaging. Part of that delay was required because the duty company had to clear people away from the area of imaging, and as the imagers proceeded, Quaeryt could see more than a few locals staring with eyes almost popping out of their heads.
He also heard a few remarks, some of them repeated more than once by different bystanders watching on different blocks.
“… do things like that, no wonder they defeated Rex Kharst…”
“… wish every street were like what they did here…”
“… Pharsi officers … may be good … don’t trust ’em…”
“… you want to tell them they’re blocking your shop?”
“… all for show … what good are a few stone roads…”
Quaeryt could have told them, but he just kept a pleasant expression on his face as the imaging proceeded. Even so, by just before fourth glass, when he and the imagers rode back to headquarters, he was satisfied. He and the imagers had finished the ring avenue around the Chateau Regis, and the service road, and had widened slightly and paved the north road halfway to the bridge. He did decide to begin with replacing the bridge first on Mardi before paving and replacing the street heading west from the bridge until they joined up with the already replaced section of the north road from the Chateau Regis.
As he rode back from the headquarters building, after dismissing the imagers for the day, he couldn’t help but worry about what was happening in northern Bovaria.
Vaelora had obviously been watching for him, because she was standing by the service entrance door when he rode into the rear courtyard of the chateau and reined up outside the modest stable, but she just waited for him while he turned the black gelding over to the ostler and then walked to join her.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Tedious. I’ll tell you after you wash up. The most exciting thing was planning dinner for us—and we’re eating alone in the family dining room.”
“I’m sorry,” said Quaeryt as they walked into the chateau and then through the lower-level foyer and toward the east side staircase that circled up to their chambers.
“It’s not your fault. It’s almost as bad as when I was in Solis.”
That worried Quaeryt—a lot. He remembered Vaelora telling him how much she’d felt like a prisoner in Bhayar’s palace in Solis. “I do have some news for you, and something for you to do…”
“What? Write out a meaningless description of our trip to Khel and back?”
“No. You know that Bhayar asked me to act as a temporary minister of supply and administration.”
“Yes?” That single word contained a sea of wariness.
“I asked if you and I could work together on that. Bhayar agreed.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because it’s going to be a bigger job than I can handle, and he and I need someone whom we can trust—especially if he sends me and the imagers off somewhere to fix something. You did an admirable job of finding the governor’s house in Extela, staffing it, furnishing it, and getting it running. Then you worked with Aelina as a partial finance minister in Solis. All we have here will be one clerk from Deucalon and three studies on the main level … and some golds. I’m supposed to be rebuilding roads … and I’d like to get the imagers started on the isle of piers.”
“That would be better than sitting around.”
Quaeryt refrained from speaking as they climbed the circular staircase to the upper level. When they reached the top, he replied, “If you have to go someplace to get goods, supplies, or people, though, you’ll need at least a squad of troopers.”
“I can see that,” Vaelora conceded.
While Quaeryt washed up, he and Vaelora discussed how they should set up their temporary ministry, although Quaeryt had his doubts that it would be all that temporary, given what they had observed of Bovaria.
Later, they sat down to dine in the chamber Vaelora had taken to calling the family dining room.
Quaeryt poured them each a goblet of white wine, then raised his. “To the lady who will likely end up doing much of the finance and logistics.”
“At least you recognize that.” Vaelora smiled before she sipped her wine.
Quaeryt looked at the platters between them on the table.
“It’s a river trout poached in wine, then fileted over rice grass with a lemon cream sauce.” Vaelora paused. “And don’t look at the dinner rolls first.”
Quaeryt laughed. He had been looking at the dinner rolls.
“Try the fish.”
“It’s not the fish, but the rice grass.”
“It’s tender, and nutlike in a way.”
Quaeryt served her and then himself. He took a bite of the fish and the rice grass, chewing slowly before swallowing. “I’ve had much worse.” He kept a straight face.
“Much worse?”
He grinned. “It’s quite good. You were right.”
“You need to say that more often.”
“Most men probably do,” he admitted.
“You should tell Bhayar that.”
“Better that you tell him … or Aelina.”
“She already has.”
That didn’t surprise Quaeryt, not at all.
“You know, in some ways, Bhayar is as close to a brother as you’ll ever have.”
“Why do you say that?”
“In my more than
ample spare time,” Vaelora paused before continuing, “I was reading Rholan. The author mentioned that Rholan didn’t believe in brotherhood.”
“That makes sense. His half brother was a wastrel, and he didn’t have any other brothers or sisters.”
Vaelora took a sip of wine, then said, “There’s something about that passage. I’d like you to read it again.”
“I will … after we enjoy this tasty dinner.”
Vaelora shook her head.
Quaeryt smiled.
* * *
Later, while Vaelora was preparing for bed, Quaeryt paged through Rholan and the Nameless, finally locating the passage Vaelora had mentioned. He quickly read the entire section.
So often do men talk about brotherhood, as if it were some lofty ideal that transcends the boundaries of all lands, that some may find it interesting that Rholan never did. That is less than surprising. Rholan had no siblings except his half brother Nial, and they were never close. In fact, Rholan went out of his way to avoid Nial, not that such was difficult. Yet, Rholan’s mother was most close to her sister Clyana. Although his mother died when Rholan was only ten, Rholan often visited his aunt throughout his life and made no secret of their relationship. What is more interesting was that Clyana was a cabinetmaker of some skill, and several of her pieces adorned Rholan’s home. Yet he never mentioned that, even to his closest friends, perhaps because having an aunt who was a crafter of note did not fit his image. This was possible only because Rholan’s friends and acquaintances were entirely drawn from the ranks of those of considerable golds and property, either merchants, factors, or the younger sons of High Holders. Yet, for all of his private concern about finances and golds, and his rather hidden appreciation of the finer life, he understood and could speak to those of a more common background, perhaps just because of his closeness to Clyana. At the same time, he never seemed to accept the fact that sisterhood existed, even as he had seen it before his very eyes.
“What do you think?” asked Vaelora.
“It does seem strange that he couldn’t see either sisterhood or brotherhood.”
“Do you see it?”
Quaeryt smiled sheepishly. “Not really. Living with all the scholars wasn’t exactly brotherhood. Voltyr was the only one I felt even halfway close to.”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind. Do you see what’s strange about the passage? How did the writer know that he hadn’t told his closest acquaintances about his aunt? And if he hadn’t…”
“How did the writer know,” finished Quaeryt.
“Exactly.”
“I’ll have to think about that … later.” He turned toward her.
20
Vaelora had barely joined Quaeryt for breakfast in their sitting room when she announced, “There are no tables or chairs or even cases in the studies we’ll be using.”
“We also don’t have golds for them.”
“Skarpa sent a paychest with you,” she said.
“That’s from Southern Army.” Quaeryt paused. “I suppose we could lend from it to the Bovarian Ministry of Supply. There must be a hundred golds left, and Bhayar did say he’d pay for our expenses.”
“Good. I’ll come with you to headquarters and get the golds.”
“And take a squad and one of our supply wagons with you?”
“Why not? Is anyone else using it?”
“No.” Quaeryt laughed. “Just purchase or order solid and simple table desks, chairs, or cases, and chests? Where, might I ask?”
“You’re almost being disrespectful, dearest. I have made inquiries of the staff and the serving maids.”
“Aren’t most of them from Paitrak’s house holding?”
“Not all of them. Some came from other High Holders. Some are locals who heard that Bhayar was fair and paid as promised.”
You should have known. “Why don’t you come with me when I leave for headquarters, then?”
“Thank you for asking, dearest.”
Quaeryt winced at the cool edge to her voice. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about how we need to get the roads and bridges finished before something else happens.”
“Did you have a dream or a farsight?”
He was relieved to hear curiosity. “No … but it seems as though, whenever things are quiet, it doesn’t last.”
“So we should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
“So we should.” He smiled at her, then took a swallow of the lukewarm tea, before picking up a biscuit, splitting it, and slathering it with mixed berry preserves.
Before all that long, they rode north to the headquarters holding, accompanied by a half squad of duty troopers, where Quaeryt made arrangements, including disbursing golds, for Vaelora’s logistics expedition. After seeing her off, he met quickly with the senior officers, and then headed out with the imagers and the duty company toward the north bridge over the River Aluse.
Under a sun that was much warmer than on either Solayi or Lundi, by two quints past third glass, Quaeryt could tell that the imagers were exhausted. He couldn’t complain. They’d imaged a solid bridge across the Aluse and finished the rest of the north road so that it ran smoothly all the way from the chateau to the bridge and across it. The Bovarians or the factors of Variana could Namer-well make improvements on the east side. They’d even replaced the south bridge, and completed a few hundred yards of stone paving heading west from the bridge. Further roadwork would have to wait until Meredi, and Quaeryt hoped that the imagers could begin work on the isle of piers on Jeudi, beginning with a permanent bridge.
With those thoughts in mind, he gave the orders to stop imaging and to form up for the return to the headquarters holding.
“Have you heard anything from Submarshal Skarpa, sir?” asked Khalis as he rode up to rejoin the others.
“No. I wouldn’t expect a message or a dispatch anytime soon. We’ve been here less than a week, and it would take almost that long for a rider to reach Kephria from Liantiago. Even with fresh mounts, without established posts along the way, dispatch riders couldn’t make the rest of the ride to Variana much more quickly than a week less than it took us.”
Khalis nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We don’t because dispatch stations exist all over Telaryn.” Just another thing that we need to establish here. Quaeryt mentally noted to add that to his list of logistic improvements needed in Bovaria.
“Do you think we’ll be called to build some of them?”
“I hope no one thinks of that immediately. We need to get started on the isle before anyone gets any ideas of what else we might build.”
“So that imagers have a place that’s theirs?”
Quaeryt nodded.
A heavyset man, a merchant of some sort from his jacket, hurried toward Quaeryt as he rode at the head of the column past a cluster of shops on the section of the south road that they had not rebuilt. “Officer! Sir? Will you be repairing this road the way you did the north road?”
Quaeryt slowed the gelding, but immediately checked his shields, hoping that the man wasn’t a diversion for an attack. “Why do you ask?”
“Because folks have already stopped using the south road.”
Quaeryt smiled. “We’ve already replaced the south bridge and some of the south road. If there’s no trouble, we should finish this part of the road all the way to the circle around the Chateau Regis in the next few days.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if the west river drive got stone paving, sir,” suggested the merchant.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t, but we can only do so much.”
“Thank you, sir.” The corpulent merchant, breathing heavily, inclined his head and stepped back.
Quaeryt looked to Khalis.
The young Pharsi undercaptain shook his head. “Everyone always wants more, don’t they?”
“When did you not notice that?” asked Quaeryt dryly.
Khalis laughed.
A good two quints passed before Quaeryt reined up in the re
ar courtyard of the headquarters holding. The Eleventh Regiment duty squad leader hurried toward Quaeryt.
“Sir … there’s a chorister waiting for you in your study.”
“A chorister?”
“He says he served under you in Tilbor.”
“Gauswn? He’s here?”
“Yes, sir … Some others as well. Youths.”
Imager students? “I’ll see him. If you’d see to my mount. I’ll be needing him later to ride to the Chateau Regis.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt dismounted and hurried across the courtyard. Why is Gauswn here? Has Tilbor turned against the young imagers … or just the scholarium?
Quaeryt had barely stepped inside the study when he was greeted exuberantly.
“Commander!” Gauswn’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Quaeryt, but that was the only indication of surprise. He remained slender, but he was clearly a chorister in gray and with the short black and white traveling scarf. “I see you’ve been promoted since your last letter.”
“Such can happen in wartime. How are you? Why are you here?” Quaeryt’s eyes went to the four youths standing behind the chorister, whom he had once thought of as a young officer, yet Gauswn was at least ten years older than Khalis and Lhandor were. The four youths looked to range in age from around ten to twelve or thirteen. Two wore the student browns of the scholarium in Tilbora.
Gauswn half turned to the students. “This is Commander Quaeryt. He is also a scholar, and as I’ve told you, if he wished, he could be the best chorister in all of Lydar.”
“Your chorister is too free with his praise,” demurred Quaeryt, “and he’s a fine chorister in his own right.”
Gauswn extended a sealed envelope to Quaeryt. “This is from Governor Straesyr. It might be best if you read it first, sir. I can answer any questions after that.” He turned to the four youths. “Wait outside in the corridor. Don’t stray. This is an army post, and you could get hurt … or worse.”
“Yes, sir,” came the chorused response.
Quaeryt opened the letter and began to read.
Dear Quaeryt—
I won’t even attempt a title. You’ve had so many in such a short time. I’ve made the decision to suggest that Chorister Gauswn and his two students travel across Telaryn and Bovaria to meet you in Variana. I’ve supplied mounts and golds, and they will ride with our dispatch riders.
Rex Regis Page 14
