Rex Regis

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “Will it serve you?”

  “It’s large enough to serve almost an entire regiment, if all the rankers attended.”

  “That won’t ever happen,” replied Quaeryt with a laugh. “Can you teach your students there, once we have quarters ready on the isle?”

  “There are several rooms on the main level that would be suitable for instruction. The chorister’s quarters are in the rear and more than suitable. Well … there are no furnishings, of course.”

  “Creating them might be a good learning project for the student imagers—under the eye of an older imager—but I wanted to talk to you about another matter. I’m going to have to leave on a mission for Lord Bhayar shortly. Please don’t mention it to anyone. While I’m gone, I’d like you to keep an eye on what happens on Imagisle. If anything seems amiss or strange, I’d appreciate it if you would inform Lady Vaelora. I’ve already told Baelthm to check with you about matters with the anomen.”

  Gauswn smiled. “He’s been doing that.”

  “Good. That will also give you a reason to watch what’s happening.” Quaeryt paused. “In time, we’ll have more students, and we may need a separate building for schooling, but that shouldn’t happen for a while.”

  “It may happen more quickly than you think,” suggested Gauswn.

  “If it does, that will show Lord Bhayar the need and value of the Collegium.”

  “Collegium?”

  “I’m calling it the Collegium Imago. Bhayar hasn’t protested the name.” Quaeryt grinned.

  “I still say that the Nameless has a purpose for you, Commander.”

  “And I still have to point out that I have no idea whether the Nameless exists or not.”

  “Your belief or disbelief doesn’t matter to the Nameless.”

  Quaeryt laughed. “If there is a Nameless, you’re right.”

  “You have a purpose, and that purpose is too great for the dreams of one man, even one so great as you are.”

  “I’m talented, but not great, Gauswn, and I’m doing what needs to be done.”

  “Many men have said that in pursuit of self-interest, and they have all failed.”

  “I know that. That’s been clear to me from the beginning.” Quaeryt paused. “That’s not quite true. There’s nothing wrong with some self-interest. It’s when self-interest consumes a man or a woman that the trouble begins, and those with great abilities have the most difficulty in distinguishing between necessity and self-interest. I’d submit that failure often comes from that loss of ability to distinguish.”

  “Or from the will of the Nameless when self-interest becomes too great.”

  “Either way, you and the Eleni and the Eherelani—and events—have made it clear that I must try never to seek power for myself and to dream beyond what I would wish personally.”

  “Would that more men thought so.”

  But … would that be good if all men and women thought to pursue great dreams? Quaeryt had his doubts. But then … who should determine who dreams great dreams and who should not? “Perhaps.” Quaeryt offered a rueful smile. “In any case, I’ve said what I have to say for now, and I need to send off the imagers for the day. Or, really, the afternoon, since the morning’s largely gone.

  “I’ll be here,” replied the chorister, before turning and leaving the study.

  In a fashion, you always have been.

  After giving final instructions to all the imagers, Quaeryt saw them off with a duty company to Imagisle, then mounted the gelding and rode back to the Chateau Regis, where he found Vaelora in the ministry study they shared, with ledgers piled up around her.

  She looked up, an expression between anger and exasperation on her face.

  “What is it?” asked Quaeryt.

  “There’s no real frigging information on almost any of the High Holders, except their names and the general location of their holdings and, occasionally, the location of a mansion near Variana.”

  “We lost a lot as a result of what I did,” Quaeryt said.

  She shook her head. “I’ve been sending out the clerks and talking to people. Kharst didn’t have much more than that—except for tariff payment records.”

  “How did he—”

  “He didn’t! That’s the problem. And the records for factors are all held by the local factors’ councils.”

  “We need copies of those records,” said Quaeryt. “We could start by sending dispatches to Meinyt and Kharllon.”

  “You’d have to have Bhayar send the dispatch to Kharllon and request the information be sent back to him. Brother dear wouldn’t have a problem with that if I drafted it.”

  “No, he wouldn’t. We also have a problem with the Anomen D’Variana. According to Baelthm, the place is practically collapsing, but the chorister has fine raiments and finer furnishings. I’ll have to draft a letter to Amalyt about the state of the Anomen D’Variana and tell him that my builders have inspected the structure and that it has been so badly neglected for so long that any major imaging to attempt to repair such massive neglect could jeopardize the entire structure, and that it would be best if the congregation and the chorister devoted their efforts to raising golds for trained artisans and masons to rebuild it. I may add something about the contrast between the quality of the furnishings and vestments and that of the structure was rather remarkable.”

  “You probably should, if delicately, and send a copy to Bhayar.”

  “I will … and there are a few other items I need to take care of before we leave tomorrow.”

  “More than a few.” Vaelora frowned. “You’re sure about not taking Baelthm and Horan?”

  “There’s no point in it. Baelthm can’t add that much, and Horan still isn’t in any shape to do imaging that will kill people. I’m not sure he ever will be. Just as important, they can continue to build Imagisle.” Quaeryt shook his head. “I don’t want that to stop because there’s another problem. There are going to be problems for months, if not years, and if the building stops anytime there’s a problem, we’ll never get anything built.”

  “You also need to get enough of it built soon so that people can see it and understand that the Collegium is an accomplished fact.”

  “That’s part of creating the impression that the Collegium is more than an imager fighting force.” Quaeryt shook his head. “And I need to stop talking and start writing dispatches, just to get them out of the way so I can complete planning the departure roads tomorrow … in a way that will leave Deucalon somewhat confused.”

  “Until he talks to Bhayar.”

  “That will still give us enough time … if your brother keeps his word about not saying anything for a day or two after we leave.”

  “You have plans, I take it?”

  “I do. Let’s hope they work.” Quaeryt pulled out the chair and seated himself at the conference table.

  33

  Mardi morning began far too early for Quaeryt, even though he’d gotten Khaern’s orders from Bhayar late on Lundi afternoon. After that, he and Vaelora had briefed Bhayar on where they stood on all the matters they had been handling, including the business of the Anomen D’Variana, which Bhayar dismissed with a laugh. Then Quaeryt had written out the order of riding and departure directions for each company and put each with maps in a folder, one for first company and one for Calkoran. Finally, he and Vaelora discussed possible ministry problems and what options she might have for dealing with each, should they arise.

  A little before sixth glass on Mardi, after checking on the gelding and strapping his kit bag behind the saddle, Quaeryt met with Khaern at the headquarters holding, handing him the document that held his orders. “Please read this right now.”

  The red-and-gray-haired subcommander frowned momentarily as he took the single sheet, then said, “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt watched as Khaern’s eyes widened, but said nothing until Khaern looked up from the orders. “Do you understand that order?”

  “Yes, sir. It says that I am to support
Lord Bhayar, and to accept and undertake orders only from you or him, or in the absence or unavailability of either of you, of the Minister of Administration and Supply for Bovaria.”

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Aren’t you the Minister of Administration, sir?”

  “I am, but so is Lady Vaelora.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but this order suggests Lord Bhayar doesn’t trust the marshal.”

  “That’s not quite true. I don’t fully trust the marshal, and if you recall what happened on the advance up the Aluse last year, I have a few reasons to be wary of his decisions.”

  “Yes, sir. So do all of us who were in Southern Army.”

  “I requested the orders you hold so that you can refuse any order from Marshal Deucalon. Obviously, you should use that ability with discretion, and if you don’t have to use it, it’s probably for the best. But you have it, in order to use your own discretion in protecting the Chateau Regis, Lord Bhayar, and Lady Vaelora—or the two imagers who will be remaining to work on the Collegium buildings on Imagisle.”

  “Yes, sir.” Khaern looked at the order sheet again.

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I trust your judgment.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep that trust, sir.” Khaern paused. “If Marshal Deucalon or one of his officers asks where you’ve gone, what should I say?”

  “Tell him that I took first company out to investigate some problems Lord Bhayar had with High Holders and that you know I headed east of Variana to begin with. That is true. If he presses you, tell him that you would feel uncomfortable saying more, since you report to me, and I report to Lord Bhayar, and that saying more would be contrary to the chain of command.”

  “That might reveal where you’re headed, sir.”

  “It might, but I’d rather you didn’t lie outright.” And if it does, that’s another indication that Deucalon’s involved with Myskyl. Quaeryt paused. “It might be helpful if you dispatched two companies for maneuvers heading west fairly early this morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” Khaern grinned. “You wouldn’t be minding if we took a supply wagon, just to give the men some practice?”

  “I think that would be an excellent idea. You’re to join Zhelan and Calkoran while I give them their riding orders.”

  In moments, all three of Quaeryt’s senior officers were in his study.

  “Are there any problems?” asked Quaeryt.

  “No, sir,” replied Zhelan. “First company is ready to mount up.”

  “We are as well,” added Calkoran.

  “Here are the maps, and directions.” Quaeryt handled Zhelan the folder he and the major would be using and then the other to Calkoran. He waited while the two looked over the materials, then went on. “Subcommander Calkoran, in leaving Variana, you’re to take the south road from the Chateau Regis to the Sud Bridge, cross the River Aluse there, then ride to the Sudroad and turn north. In the middle of Variana, it turns into the Nordroad, and it eventually becomes the river road to Rivages. First company will take the north road over the Nord Bridge and past Nordroad all the way out to Saenhelyn before turning north. We’ll join up just south of Talyon. That’s the first true town north of Variana. It’s about fifteen milles. Whoever reaches Talyon first waits. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s one other matter. You’re to stop any dispatch riders, seize their dispatches, and detain them, by force if necessary. That also includes any rider who might be a courier for someone else as well.”

  Zhelan frowned. “Sir?”

  Calkoran only nodded, sadly and knowingly.

  “There’s something wrong happening with Submarshal Myskyl’s forces. There have been no dispatches back to Variana in more than two months, and we don’t want to alert anyone who may be intercepting dispatches. We also don’t want dispatches to anyone else heading north.”

  “You do not wish to let the submarshal know we are coming, either,” said Calkoran.

  “No, I don’t. I’d like to be able to scout around, if we can, without his knowing we’re near. Then again, that may not be possible because he may have scouts in many areas around Rivages, but if no dispatches reach whoever is at the root of the problem, they’ll have less time to prepare to deal with us.” Quaeryt turned to Khaern. “Any other diversions you can arrange here would be useful. I leave the details to you.”

  “Yes, sir. We can do that.”

  Quaeryt turned his eyes on Calkoran. “Any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then have your men mount up. You’ll leave first. We’ll follow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Calkoran and Khaern hurried off.

  Zhelan looked at Quaeryt. “Begging your pardon, sir, but how are we going to take on six regiments?”

  “We can’t, and we aren’t. Lord Bhayar needs every regiment he has. We have to find a way to get to the bottom of this without losing those regiments.” One way or another, and only the Nameless knows how we can manage it. Quaeryt almost smiled at the thought of his calling on an unnamed deity whose existence he wasn’t even sure of.

  “That’s…” Zhelan shook his head as if unable to even come up with an appropriate assessment of the situation.

  “Yes, it is.” Quaeryt offered a smile. “We might as well get moving.” He gestured to the study door.

  Two quints later, first company was riding south toward the north road under a hazy sky. Quaeryt hadn’t seen any sign of any senior officers watching, and he hoped that the fact that one company or another had been riding out every day would have numbed any observer to anything particularly special, although the fact that each company had a supply wagon was different. He also worried about rain later in the day, because there was a hint of dark clouds to the southeast, and he’d learned that the heaviest rains always blew into Variana from that direction.

  Early as it was, by the time first company reached the Nord Bridge, they were slowed by wagons on the road and bridge, and even more so on the narrower avenue east of the River Aluse. A good glass passed before Quaeryt, flanked by Zhelan, with Khalis, Lhandor, and Elsior riding directly behind them, reached Saenhelyn Road and turned north on the dusty track that would eventually rejoin the river road to Rivages.

  “Do you think this will do any good, sir?” asked Zhelan.

  “Given how far and how long we have to ride, it can’t hurt. And if the Bovarians are involved, it’s definitely a good idea.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  From Zhelan’s tone, Quaeryt could tell that the major had strong doubts that the Bovarians were in the slightest involved.

  “And,” Quaeryt added loudly, so that the imagers could hear, “we can do some roadwork along the way so that travel and dispatch riders will have an easier time of it in the future. That way, we won’t have to wonder if bad roads slowed dispatches.”

  Clearly understanding what Quaeryt was doing, Zhelan grinned and replied loudly, “Yes, sir.”

  “We might even build a few good bridges along the way.”

  “Maybe they could build some really big bridges and causeways and pave a good portion of the river road all the way to Rivages.”

  “That might be a good idea,” replied Quaeryt, grinning back at the major.

  34

  The river road as far as Talyon proved not only to be paved all the way from Variana, but the paving continued for the next two towns beyond, the second of which, Caanara, was where Quaeryt and the two companies spent Mardi night, using both inns. Quaeryt and the imagers and first company stayed at the Black Bear, whose innkeeper had observed occasional riders in Telaryn livery riding both north and south, but none for the past week or so.

  “Couldn’t say for certain, sir, but as I recall, there were four Telaryn riders moving quicklike through town a week ago last Samedi. Sometimes, they stop here, but those fellows barely slowed to a walk in the town. They just might have wished they did, seeing as it had rained the day before.”


  “The road’s not paved north of here?”

  “For another five milles, mayhap. All that was done in my grandsire’s time. All the roadwork hereabouts stopped when Rex Kharst’s father took the throne.”

  Another mystery of sorts. But Quaeryt just nodded, then asked, “I heard that Kharst’s imagers might have fled north from Variana.”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “Could be, but who’d know an imager from any other party of travelers ’less they were fool enough to let anyone know?”

  “I take it imagers aren’t exactly welcome in the north?”

  “Not sure they’re welcome anywhere, especially for High Holders out of favor. There’s word that a few High Holders welcome them, but which ones, I couldn’t say. Likely ’cause they’re relatives. Anyone else’d turn out an imager whelp.”

  “They say that Lord Bhayar is starting a school for them in Variana,” said Quaeryt, “offering a gold to parents who send young imagers there.”

  “Might not be a bad idea. Keep them under control and give their parents a reward for raising ’em and putting up with ’em.” The innkeeper frowned. “How’d you be knowing that?”

  “He told me to arrange for building the school. I was a scholar before the war.”

  “Scholar-commander … don’t know what the world’s coming to…” The man shook his head, then brushed back a lock of lank black hair. “Used to have scholars, too. They started disappearing some twenty years ago, something about the rex not letting them earn coins. Small scholarium here when I was a boy. Been gone for years, though.”

  “That’s true all across Bovaria, I’ve heard.”

  “Terrible times … terrible … You said you’d pay?”

  “I did. Two golds for food for the men, and a gold for lodging.”

  “Not all that much … but any boat in a flood.”

  Quaeryt didn’t learn any more of interest from the innkeeper, and on Meredi morning he and his forces were on the road north well before seventh glass.