Rex Regis

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  By the time the army reached Caanara on the following Mardi evening, Quaeryt had insect bites in more places than he wanted to count, despite the fact that he’d worn his visor cap and a long-sleeved uniform shirt the entire time. He felt he’d seen and experienced more mosquitoes and red flies over the past two days than he had on the entire campaign the previous summer, a fact he mentioned to Justanan as the two of them sat at a corner table in the public room of the best inn in Caanara, the Red Bear, which, in Quaeryt’s mind, barely merited being termed an inn. Each had a beaker of lager before them, supposedly pale, but more like amber.

  “I’d have to agree,” said the older officer. “They weren’t near as thick there, especially the red flies. Well … maybe in a few places, but not for days straight, even when it rained.”

  “I wondered if I was the only one who thought that way.”

  “Nieron has more bites than you do, I think, from the way he talks.”

  “How do you think he feels about Myskyl, now that he’s had a chance to think it over?”

  “He hasn’t said much. We were never close, you know. He did say that it was obvious that your loyalty was to Lord Bhayar.” Justanan paused. “You meant what you said about not being marshal, didn’t you?”

  “Absolutely. That would not be good for Bhayar or for Lydar.”

  “You’d be good at it.”

  “That doesn’t mean that I should be. I’d be seen as having too much power. It’s one thing to be an imager and one commander among many…” Quaeryt let the words hang.

  The older commander nodded. “You prefer to remain less visible.”

  “It’s not just that. Lord Bhayar needed the imagers after Kharst attacked, but imagers should not be a part of the armies on a permanent basis. They should be separate, and they should provide other benefits and services, and they should report directly to the ruler. They also need to be better organized and structured.”

  “You’re working on that?”

  “Lord Bhayar has agreed to establish a collegium of imagers, located on the isle of piers in the River Aluse. Initially, they’ll be supported by fifth battalion and my regiments, but that will only be for a few years, until more imagers are trained. That way, the imagers will have a place to be schooled, trained, and supervised.”

  Justanan laughed softly. “They’ll balance the power of the armies … and whoever is marshal. That’s what you have in mind, isn’t it?”

  “Partly. But only partly. Imagers need a safe place to learn and grow. There are so few that they’ll never be a danger to the people, but if they’re scattered, the people are a danger to them. They can protect a ruler, and he can protect them.”

  “What will keep them in check after you’re gone?”

  “The fact that a ruler can dissolve the Collegium and return them to persecution. Most imagers aren’t as powerful as the ones you’ve seen. They’re the survivors and the best … and there are only ten of them in all of Lydar. Even if there are ten times as many as that who are that able—which I doubt—that number could not survive without protection or without continuing to hide. Even a number of those in my forces died, and I’ve been wounded three times.”

  “Will you remain a commander?”

  “Only so long as necessary. I’d prefer to be the maître of the Collegium.”

  Justanan took a swallow from the beaker of lager before him, then set it down and looked at Quaeryt. “I’d tell you not to coddle the younger ones, but I have the feeling you won’t.”

  “I intend to make the standards for imagers far tougher than for troopers or officers, and the punishments for transgressions far harder. There has to be a price for protection.”

  “Do you really think that it will outlast you?”

  Quaeryt smiled and shrugged. “I’d like to think so, but that will depend on how well we educate and train those who succeed us.” He paused. “Isn’t that true in everything?”

  Justanan laughed again. “It is indeed.” He lifted the beaker. “To those who follow. May we train them well.”

  With a smile, Quaeryt lifted his own beaker and took a healthy swallow.

  When he set the beaker down, the smile was gone. “I’m going to take my two companies and leave very early tomorrow morning.”

  Justanan offered a faint smile. “I thought you would.”

  “I’d suggest that you not press, either. It’s possible that you may receive additional orders before you reach headquarters in Variana. Then, again, you may not.”

  “That depends on Lord Bhayar, I assume. What will you tell the marshal?”

  “Nothing. I’ll report to Lord Bhayar, as he ordered. He’ll decide what happens after that.”

  “You will certainly recommend something.”

  “My only recommendation will be that Deucalon not remain as marshal. He either had no idea what Myskyl was doing, or he was part of it. Given the fact that Bhayar requested information and was effectively denied that information…” Quaeryt looked to Justanan.

  “Deucalon was either negligent or complicit,” finished the older commander.

  “Were you reporting to Lord Bhayar, what would you recommend?”

  “The same as you will … but I’m glad you’re the one who has to.” Justanan offered a rueful expression. “We just may take a rather leisurely approach to Variana.”

  “Not too leisurely,” suggested Quaeryt.

  “You don’t expect…”

  “I don’t, but I’ve been surprised before.”

  “When was the last time? When you were born?”

  Quaeryt had to smile at Justanan’s cheerful sardonicism. “I think it was a bit after that.”

  “Not much.”

  Quaeryt shook his head and took a small swallow of the amber lager.

  56

  Quaeryt and first company reached the circle road around the Chateau Regis slightly after first glass on Jeudi. They had made better time covering the distance from Caanara to Variana than they had in leaving the capital weeks earlier, despite encountering some rain north of Talyon, largely because the road was in better condition as a result of the earlier imaging work … and because they didn’t stop to make additional road repairs. Variana itself appeared unchanged, with people coming and going and most giving but a passing glance at the troopers.

  As first company started up the paved side road to the rear courtyard of the chateau, Quaeryt glanced to Calkoran on his left and then to Zhelan on his right. “We talked this over last night, but I want to make it clear. No troopers or officers are to be allowed to leave the Chateau Regis except by my order or that of Lord Bhayar personally. All troopers and officers riding in from anywhere are to be detained.” He looked past the two senior officers to the imager undercaptains. “You three are to support the major and subcommander until I return.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How much trouble do you think there will be?” asked Zhelan.

  “None, I trust, but I want to make this as smooth as practicable.” And I want Deucalon having as little notice as possible.

  The rear courtyard held only the duty squad assigned to the chateau, and the squad leader looked up with interest, but not concern, as first company approached.

  Quaeryt rode to the hitching rail nearest the rear door and dismounted. He eased his leather dispatch case from his saddlebag and walked swiftly to the door. Behind him, the troopers were taking control of the rear courtyard. The two guards at the door stepped aside. Then Quaeryt was astounded to see Vaelora opening the door from inside, since no one had even announced him and he and his troopers had ridden in as quietly as possible.

  She motioned for him to come into the chateau.

  “Were you watching for me?”

  “I’ve had a man stationed on the upper level for the past week with orders to report to me the moment any large bodies of troopers arrive. I’ve also had a courier by the front door to summon your imagers from the Collegium, if necessary.”

  “Is it
that bad?”

  “Not if you’re back. What about Myskyl?”

  “He was planning what we thought, and he had three of Kharst’s imagers. He’s dead and so is his senior commander. I left one regiment with a subcommander Bhayar trusted, and the rest of Northern Army is a day behind. They’re under the Commander Justanan, whom he trusts … and so do I.”

  “Good. You need to read this before you see Bhayar.” Vaelora extended a dispatch.

  “It’s that urgent?”

  “More than that.” She gave him a quick hug and a quicker kiss before stepping back.

  Quaeryt extracted the two sheets from the already opened envelope and began to read as they walked toward the center of the chateau.

  Commander Quaeryt—

  It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that both Commander Kharllon and Subcommander Dulaek passed away due to various mishaps over the past week. The first of these mishaps occurred after the governor had suggested that the orders governing Southern Army came through the chain of command from the marshal of the armies, or his successor, and that, henceforth, Southern Army would report directly to the marshal, rather than to the Lord of Telaryn. Commander Kharllon apparently suffered a seizure in his sleep the night after declaring that, since his guards reported that no one had entered or left his quarters. Then Subcommander Dulaek tripped and fell off a balcony on a late night visit to Subcommander Paedn who, as senior commander of Southern Army after the death of acting governor Kharllon, had assumed the role of acting governor. Dulaek was carrying a sabre smeared with an unusual substance …

  Quaeryt read the remainder of the dispatch quickly, which assured Quaeryt that Voltyr and Paedn were working together, because the imagers had provided services for the new acting governor, although they remained based in Westisle, where they were converting naval barracks into quarters for the imagers and Nineteenth Regiment.

  After finishing the dispatch, he looked to Vaelora. “What are your thoughts?”

  “Myskyl had enlisted Kharllon from the beginning, and either Kharllon or Myskyl had suborned Dulaek.”

  “I’d always thought that Kharllon was a possibility. Did Bhayar have a fit at what Voltyr did?”

  “He wasn’t happy. I did point out that it was possible that the imagers acted to stop a rebellion in Antiago before it could take place.”

  “He still wasn’t happy, I suspect.”

  “You need to see him now.”

  “That’s where I’m headed. You should come with me.”

  “I intend to.”

  Even if Quaeryt had thought she should not have come, he wouldn’t have argued with the iron behind her words.

  “This way,” she said. “The back staircase that comes up close to his study is quicker, and fewer people in the chateau will see you. What else should I know?”

  “I’d be surprised if there’s any more trouble in the north, but Bhayar is also going to be unhappy because he’s going to have to realize that the land he rules is too big for him to control it just by personal maneuvering and intrigue.”

  “You’re right. I’ve been saying things along those lines, and he’s been close to dismissive.”

  “Have we heard anything from the Khellan High Council?”

  “Not a thing, but it might be another month … if they have to consult with all the local councils.”

  That requirement had skipped Quaeryt’s mind, but another thought struck him after Vaelora nodded to the guard at the base of the narrow circular staircase and he followed her up the steps. “How did you get that dispatch?”

  “Major Voltyr sent it with instructions that if you were not present, it was to go to me, and if I were not present, to Bhayar directly. It arrived last Lundi. The one you read is a copy. I even forged Voltyr’s signature. After reading the original, I made the copy and gave the original to Bhayar. Otherwise, he might have been misled by reports that were sent to Deucalon. He is still less than pleased.”

  “Do you know what he told the marshal?”

  “No. He said that matters would remain as they were until he had a report from you. He did say that Deucalon agreed that was for the best.”

  “Deucalon is trying to maintain a position where he hasn’t committed himself.”

  The eyes of the guard outside Bhayar’s study widened when he saw both Vaelora and Quaeryt as they walked from the top of the staircase toward the half-open study door.

  “If you’d announce us,” suggested Quaeryt, removing his sweaty visor cap and tucking it under his arm.

  “Yes, sir, Lady…” The guard turned. “Commander Quaeryt and Lady Vaelora, Lord Bhayar.”

  “Send them in and close the door.”

  Once more, the dark-haired Lord of Telaryn and Rex of Bovaria was standing by the open window. Even from across the study Quaeryt could see the dark circles under his eyes. Bhayar did not speak until the door clicked shut.

  “You could have sent a dispatch.” His words were flat.

  Quaeryt recognized the anger behind that flatness. “Not without risking your life and rule. And that is something I would not do.”

  “You could have sent it with a full squad.”

  “Against all of Deucalon’s regiments? I came ahead of Northern Army with my two companies. I doubt that a squad could have traveled that much faster.” Quaeryt gestured to the conference table. “I suggest we sit. I need to tell you what happened and show you some dispatches of interest.”

  “Before we sit … what was Myskyl doing … if anything?”

  “Plotting with Lady Myranda of Fiancryt, three imagers who served Kharst, and Marshal Deucalon to remove me and turn you into their puppet, if not to replace you completely. Shall we sit?”

  “It might be best, brother dear,” said Vaelora. “I doubt that the story and all the details can be conveyed all that briefly.”

  Bhayar’s face remained impassive as he walked toward the table.

  Once the three were seated, Quaeryt began. “I’m going to relate events as they happened. Not the mundane business of what the companies did each day, but the events relating to what Myskyl and Deucalon, and others, did and were planning.”

  “Should I summon Deucalon to hear this? It appears you are making a charge against him, and he has served Telaryn long and faithfully.”

  “I think you need to hear and see what evidence I have. If you have questions about my recollection, you can question any of my troopers, imagers, or officers.”

  Bhayar nodded. “Go on, then.”

  “We left Variana on the seventeenth of Avryl. Nothing untoward occurred until the twenty-second of Avryl. We were some fifteen milles south of a town called Roleon when the rear guard intercepted a courier from Marshal Deucalon. This is the dispatch he carried.” Quaeryt eased the dispatch from the case and passed it to Bhayar, then waited as he read the dispatch.

  “It only gives the date when you left Variana,” said Bhayar, laying the sheet on the table.

  “It also points out that Deucalon has ‘obvious reasons’ for not asking about my destination, and states that Myskyl would find the information useful. Later on in the dispatch, you will note that Deucalon states that he agrees with Myskyl’s suggestion that when speaking to High Holders they should always refer to the power of Telaryn and its forces and never mention any individual by name or position. That way, he writes, their allegiance is to Telaryn and not to any individual.”

  “Your point is?” asked Bhayar.

  Quaeryt wondered if Bhayar were baiting him or being deliberately obtuse. “My point is that Rescalyn never mentioned you by name or position when addressing his officers in the entire time I was in Tilbor. I don’t think that is coincidence, not when Myskyl was Rescalyn’s deputy and was also submarshal under Deucalon.”

  “Go on,” said Bhayar.

  Can he really not see what was happening? Quaeryt cleared his throat. “When we questioned the dispatch riders, they informed us that they were ordered to avoid our forces and that more than thr
ee dispatch riders had arrived from Northern Army in the month before we set out. The courier knew them by name. Yet, according to what you told me, Deucalon said he had received no word from Myskyl since winter.”

  Bhayar nodded again, and Quaeryt continued, detailing the information he had received from various sources and High Holders along the way.

  “… about fifteen milles north of Yapres, on the twenty-eighth of Avryl, we encountered and had to restrain with imaging another courier. He and his trooper escorts had been dispatched from the high holding of Fiancryt north and west of Rivages by Submarshal Myskyl. They were given specific orders to avoid at all costs any Telaryn troopers.” Quaeryt extended the second dispatch, again waiting for Bhayar to read it.

  This time, he did see a hint of a frown, perhaps when Bhayar reached the part that mentioned that Myskyl was effectively holding on to ten thousand golds in tariffs from the factors and High Holders of the north.

  “He seems preoccupied with the safety of the golds. By the way, what happened to them?” asked Bhayar.

  “They are safe, being transported and guarded by Commander Justanan’s forces. They should arrive here in a day or two. I strongly suggested that he deliver them here.”

  “Strongly suggested?”

  “He does outrank me,” Quaeryt pointed out

  “Who are the others with whom Myskyl was negotiating?”

  “Most likely the three remaining imagers who served Kharst, based on what occurred later. All the commanders of Northern Army knew Myskyl was meeting with men they suspected were imagers.” Quaeryt paused, then added, “You might also note the line about ‘those who have usurped the powers of the marshal.’”

  “I can read, Quaeryt. Continue.”

  Quaeryt did so.

  Surprisingly, Bhayar did not interrupt as Quaeryt relayed what had happened on the approach to Rivages, including an entire regiment being deployed to detain or capture him and his troopers, and then how Myskyl had attempted to murder him with the imagers and the metal-lined room and the oversized blunderbuss, ending with, “… After the hold house burned, I met with the two surviving senior commanders, Justanan and Nieron. Once the fire had died to ashes we inspected the remnants of the house, and they verified that there was indeed a blunderbuss mounted in the wall and that the so-called officers’ salon was metal-lined to keep me from imaging—”