“Why didn’t that work?”
“It would have if my imagers hadn’t kept Myskyl from closing the door…” Quaeryt did not mention the appearance of Erion, only that the interplay of imaging forces had resulted in lightnings and flame that killed Myskyl and the Bovarian imagers, and that the imager undercaptains’ efforts to keep Luchan from using the blunderbuss had resulted in his death. He did mention Lady Myranda’s escape.
“You couldn’t stop her?”
“We were rather occupied,” said Quaeryt mildly. “It takes some effort to infiltrate five regiments and deal with the three strongest Bovarian imagers.” He glanced to Vaelora. That quick look told him that she appeared ready to strike her brother dead.
Bhayar took a long deep breath, then looked at his sister. “Don’t glare at me.”
“Then stop acting like a clueless idiot,” she snapped back.
“That’s exactly the way many senior commanders would see it,” he returned. “Deucalon and Myskyl have served long and faithfully.”
“Until now,” said Quaeryt. “Even Nieron, who was predisposed to support Myskyl, is now convinced that Myskyl was plotting to destroy me and to increase the power of the marshal.”
“What exactly do you suggest I do with the high holding of Fiancryt, now that you turned it into a ruin?”
For a moment, Quaeryt couldn’t believe Bhayar’s question. Then, abruptly, he realized that Bhayar was having great difficulty in dealing with the magnitude of the treachery that had almost engulfed him. So he was focusing on something far smaller. Because Deucalon and Myskyl had served his father so faithfully that he cannot believe they would turn against him? Or does he believe that Myskyl and Deucalon betrayed him because he has turned to me? Or perhaps both?
“Only the hold house,” replied Quaeryt after a moment of silence. “All the other structures are in good repair. I’d suggest that you grant the lands to Tyrena D’Ryel and her daughter.”
“What?”
“Can you think of anyone more likely to be loyal? In addition, it reduces the number of High Holders in Rivages, which has always been a trouble spot for the rulers of Bovaria.”
“Why does so much of what you do create consternation,” asked Bhayar, “when so much of it makes sense?”
“Because, sir, you wish to be respected for your sense of fairness, justice, and practicality, while most who have or seek power respect only power and its exercise and fear justice.” And I have exercised power you do not wield, except through me, on your behalf.
“Why her?”
“Why not? She would have worked out terms with your father, I suspect, had she been allowed to be Khanara. She’s intelligent, and she owes you. She understands that the lands are hers on sufferance. It will also make the point that appointing Vaelora as Minister of Administration is not just a gesture … and she should have that position alone, once I officially become maître of the Collegium.”
“I’m beginning to think that cannot happen soon enough,” said Bhayar dryly, “especially after that business in Antiago.”
“What business?” asked Quaeryt guilelessly.
“You already know, I’m sure.” Bhayar handed an envelope and a dispatch to Quaeryt. “It’s a dispatch from Subcommander Paedn.”
Based on the dispatch from Voltyr, Quaeryt had few doubts about what the dispatch contained.
“I don’t know why I bother. You doubtless know what it contains.” Bhayar looked hard at his sister.
“I know what Major Voltyr said,” replied Quaeryt. “I don’t imagine that there’s much difference in the dispatch from Paedn.”
“Why not?”
“Because, unlike some, Paedn is both honest and loyal, and a decent commander.”
“Read it.”
Quaeryt did. The only difference in Voltyr’s dispatch and that of Paedn was a single section, and even it was not that much different.
… The night after Commander Kharllon declared that he would report directly to the marshal and not to Lord Bhayar he suffered some sort of seizure in his sleep and died suddenly. His personal guards were quite clear that no one entered or left his quarters that night.
Quaeryt had no doubts about what had happened. He looked up and returned the dispatch to Bhayar.
“What do you have to say?”
“Obviously, the commander had a guilty conscience about what he was doing, so much so that it triggered that seizure.”
Bhayar snorted. “The same things are happening with Major Voltyr as have happened around you, and I won’t have it!”
Quaeryt looked directly at Bhayar. “If you wish to remain Rex Regis of Solidar, you will have it. You cannot ever afford another senior officer who either attempts to take unnecessary power or who wants to destroy imagers and the Collegium.”
“You are telling me? Are you planning to be the next Rex Regis?”
“No. I don’t want to be rex. I don’t even want to be a marshal or a submarshal. Why do you think I took the extra risk of not bringing all the imagers with me to Rivages? Why do you think I left two imagers to support Meinyt, and two in Antiago? Why did I leave two here, working on rebuilding an anomen and building a Collegium? Why is Vaelora struggling with ledgers and gathering tariff rolls and information on factors and High Holders?” Quaeryt realized that his voice was getting louder and louder. He swallowed and lowered it before continuing. “Anytime an imager has tried to take power in the history of Lydar, the result has been a disaster. Even the High Council of Khel only has one imager out of five councilors, and most local councils have none. The people all across Solidar would rise in revolt if I even were named marshal, or submarshal, let alone considered as rex. Unlike Rescalyn and Myskyl … and Deucalon, I have no delusions about what I can accomplish. I can make your rule more secure, and I can assure that the imagers survive and support you. If you do not let me, in the end, we will both perish … and so will Aelina, Vaelora, and Clayar…”
“You think so?”
“So do I,” said Vaelora coldly. With her words came an image of bloody bodies strewn across the very study in which they stood, and one of those bodies was that of a graying Bhayar, another that of a young man that might have been Clayar in another ten years.
Bhayar paled, if only for a moment.
Quaeryt waited, then sighed. Loudly. “Rescalyn, Myskyl, and Deucalon all tried. So did Lady Myranda and the three imagers of Kharst. Do you know who will emerge to try again in five years … or ten? If you maintain a mighty army, how will you afford it? Even if you can, how well will you trust the marshal after Justanan?”
“I haven’t even named him as marshal.”
“You could name Pulaskyr. He would support you. After those two … then whom?”
Bhayar paused, then abruptly shook his head. “You two alone will stand up to me and tell me what I do not wish to hear.”
“No. Not alone. Aelina will, and before long, so will Voltyr.”
“Voltyr?”
“He’ll be in charge of the part of the Collegium in Westisle. That will make it far harder for anyone to contemplate attacking the Collegium here.”
“Two collegiums?”
“One Collegium … two locations.”
Bhayar’s sigh was short and explosive—the one that signaled true anger.
“Brother dear…” said Vaelora gently. “It does not become you to be so angered when Quaeryt has likely saved both your rule and your life.”
“Without even asking me…”
Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora spoke, letting the silence draw out.
Finally, Bhayar sighed again, this time a drawn-out exhalation. “The more pressing question is how do you suggest I handle Deucalon?”
“Summon him here to meet with you at fifth glass. What you decide to do will depend on how he handles himself.”
“Unless he’s a fool, and he’s not, he won’t say anything, and there won’t be a single piece of paper or dispatch that will incriminate him.”
; “The ones on the table are indicative,” replied Quaeryt. “And I may be able to persuade him to reveal more. The very fact that he has been receiving dispatches from Myskyl, while lying to you, is treason in and of itself. There are scores of witnesses to confirm that. The withholding of ten thousand golds is also a form of treason. So is colluding in the attempted murder of a commander acting under your direct orders. And so is ordering a commander—Kharllon—to disregard your direct orders in favor of the marshal’s. That is more than enough to order an execution.”
“You understand that. Will all the men who served?”
“Give Vaelora and me a glass or so. We might have a better solution. One that doesn’t involve ‘accidents’ or death.”
Sister and brother looked at him quizzically.
Quaeryt just smiled.
“Fifth glass, then, but I want to know your proposed solution by fourth glass.”
“We’ll see what we can do.”
Bhayar started to reply, then shook his head, finally saying, “Fourth glass.” Then he rose and walked toward the window.
Quaeryt and Vaelora left the study silently.
57
“What now?” asked Vaelora once they were well away from Bhayar’s study and approaching the grand staircase down to the main level.
“First, I have to tell Zhelan and Calkoran to allow a messenger to leave to summon Deucalon. I ordered them not to allow any troopers or officers to leave Chateau Regis.”
“You didn’t want Deucalon storming in until you briefed Bhayar?”
“Exactly, and I didn’t know if Bhayar would even be here or if he would be busy meeting with someone.” Quaeryt started down the grand staircase.
“He would have met with you.”
“And while we were meeting, some junior officer would have been riding off to warn the marshal. I wasn’t sure how Bhayar would take it. You saw how he didn’t want to believe it of Deucalon.”
“I did. But brother dear can be most implacable when he feels he has been betrayed.”
“Does he feel that way about Deucalon?”
Vaelora frowned. “He’s angry. He doesn’t like being deceived, and he doesn’t like it when he’s shown that he made a mistake. And he hates being wrong.”
“Don’t we all?” asked Quaeryt wryly. “While I’m giving orders to Zhelan and Calkoran, would you see about assembling what records you have about vacant high holdings, including any that Kharst bestowed in Khel?”
“Khel? You have a nasty turn of thought, dearest.”
“You mentioned sending word to Baelthm and Horan. Are they quartered on Imagisle now?”
“Since last week.”
“Then we’ll need to call them in, and have Khaern ready to bring in Eleventh Regiment.”
“Do you think that will be necessary?”
“I doubt it, but we’d both be neglecting our duty to Bhayar if it turns out to be required.”
“Do you need anything else?” she asked.
“You,” he replied with a warm smile.
“That, dearest, will have to wait.”
They separated at the foot of the staircase.
Quaeryt turned and walked half the width of the chateau to the rear door to the courtyard. When he stepped out into a stiff breeze under the high gray clouds, he saw Zhelan walking toward him. With the major was an undercaptain, and from the junior officer’s impassive expression, he was less than happy.
“Undercaptain Culean has a problem with your orders, Commander,” said Zhelan, offering a predatory smile.
“What is your difficulty, Undercaptain?” asked Quaeryt.
“The marshal himself ordered me to report when any companies or officers returned to the Chateau Regis. Your officers refused to let me do so.”
“They refused to let you do so because I ordered them not to. Since I report directly to Lord Bhayar, and since Lord Bhayar is the marshal’s superior, they were right to do so, since they are not in your chain of command. They also outrank you.” Quaeryt smiled. “Shortly, I understand, Lord Bhayar will be sending a courier to the marshal. You—and you alone from your command—may accompany that trooper and report to the marshal.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ignoring the combination of fear and anger almost but not quite suppressed from appearing on the undercaptain’s face, Quaeryt turned to Zhelan. “See that he does not leave until Bhayar’s courier departs.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is Subcommander Calkoran?”
“He and his men are deployed in the front of the Chateau Regis.”
“Thank you. I need to give him some instructions.” He turned to the waiting imager undercaptains, all standing beside their mounts. “Lhandor, if you’d join Subcommander Calkoran. Khalis, Elsior, you’re to support Major Zhelan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt hurried back into the chateau, crossing to the front entrance, where he found Calkoran at the base of the steps up to the entry and there conveyed his orders for the messages to the imagers and Subcommander Khaern. Then he made his way back to Vaelora’s study.
She looked up from a ledger. “It will be a quint or so before the clerks have what we need about the high holdings in Bovaria. There weren’t many granted in Khel. I can only find six, and all were near port cities.”
“How did you find that out?”
“The tariff records kept by the Bovarian factors’ councils. I assume you’re thinking about giving Deucalon a high holding in the northwest of Khel.”
“I am. One as far away as possible—Eshtora or Moryn.”
“Khel hasn’t even agreed to terms.”
“They will. Bhayar can tell him that he will not only be stipended with honor, but he will be named as High Holder once Bhayar has determined a large and appropriate holding, and that it will not be that long. If Khel doesn’t come to terms, we’ll find the most isolated large high holding we can and bestow that on him.”
“It’s too bad we can’t just have him executed,” said Vaelora.
“It’s better that Myskyl be thought the villain. Besides, he is the greater villain. We can spread the word that Deucalon wasn’t himself in the last part of the war and that Myskyl took advantage of that … and that Bhayar felt his previous service merited recognition. That way, if Deucalon does try to stir up trouble, then Bhayar will have reason to act more harshly.”
“Brother dear might like the honorable stipend approach better.”
“Much as I dislike Deucalon, it makes more sense. That way, Deucalon becomes an officer who served well, but just too long, and it buries the fact that the two top-ranking officers were conspiring against Bhayar.”
“There were more than two, if you count Kharllon.”
“He just had a seizure after being faced with an impossible situation,” said Quaeryt dryly. He said nothing more as Vaelora continued to look through the ledger.
Finally, she looked up. “There are several vacant high holdings in Khel, all of them, in fact. The one that meets your criteria best is Khunthan. It’s one of the largest in Lydar. It’s located northeast of Eshtora, and it was bestowed on one Elizaran. According to the tariff records, the last tariffs were not paid because Elizaran and his family vanished and are possibly dead. That’s true of all six of the holdings Kharst created.”
“All we have to do is insist on a few high holdings when Khel comes to seek terms,” said Quaeryt.
“Will they?”
“You’re better at seeing what will be. What do you think?”
“The High Council isn’t stupid. Khel now stands alone. They don’t have anything to lose by suggesting the most favorable terms they can.”
“We both know that. What do you feel? Or farsee?”
“I haven’t had farsight flashes, not since the one…” She frowned. “You’ve never said…”
“You were right. The officers’ salon was pitch-dark from where I stood when Myskyl ordered the iron shutters dropped. We can talk about that lat
er, but your telling me about the farsight made me aware that I would be facing some sort of trap.”
“I’m glad it helped.”
“We don’t have that much time,” Quaeryt said. “Would you mind seeing what the clerks have come up with?”
She smiled and headed for the door to the adjoining study.
In the end, even with the incomplete records that Vaelora and the clerks had been able to piece together, Quaeryt and Vaelora found three possible high holdings in Bovaria that could be granted to Deucalon, assuming that Bhayar agreed with their “solution.”
Promptly at fourth glass, Quaeryt and Vaelora entered Bhayar’s study.
Bhayar was already seated at the conference table. He did not rise, but gestured for them to sit, waiting to speak until they were seated. “The more I think about this, the angrier I become. At first, I couldn’t believe it was possible, but then…” He shook his head. “How could he do this? Why?”
“Because Myskyl was very persuasive, obviously,” replied Quaeryt. “I was wrong, you know? I thought that Myskyl was merely a loyal follower of Rescalyn, when it had to have been the other way around.”
“How did you know? And when?” asked Bhayar.
“I didn’t, not for certain. But when Skarpa and Southern Army were always detailed to attacks and positions designed so that we took the greatest risk … and then when Deucalon changed who was to attend senior officers’ meetings, it became clearer and clearer that one of them, if not both, wanted me dead in a way that couldn’t be traced to them, as well as isolated from the other commanders. Looking back, I can see that Myskyl feared that the imagers would undermine his and Deucalon’s power and influence. I suspect, but there’s no proof, that Kharllon was part of it. If he’d been allowed to remain as acting governor of Antiago, and Myskyl controlled Northern Army, and Deucalon the regiments remaining near Variana…”
Rex Regis Page 46
