The silver-haired Phaeryn smiled politely. “You might explain why you need all those troopers if you are here merely to talk.”
“Oh … they’re just here to assure that we do talk. Some people, even scholars, have an aversion to discussing certain matters.”
“Might I assume the disappearance of Scholar Chardyn was your doing?” asked Zarxes.
“He disappeared? That would almost be a pity, except for the fact that he was a part of the botched efforts of the Pretender. As for assumptions, you can assume what you wish. All I know is that, if Scholar Chardyn vanished, it was a result of his own acts.”
“He disappeared in the middle of the night on the same night you departed … and you had nothing to do with it? That’s rather unlikely.”
“I never said I had nothing to do with it. I intimated that his disappearance was the result of his own decisions. Someone lurked in my room that night. I suspect that Scholar Chardyn discovered that I had been appointed scholar assistant to the princeps of Tilbor. I also suspect he knew what I had discovered.” Quaeryt smiled.
“Oh?” asked Phaeryn smoothly, moving toward one of the armchairs, against which rested what appeared to be a walking stick, but was more likely a half-staff. “And what was this dark and mysterious secret you discovered?”
Quaeryt smiled politely as Zarxes took a position before the other armchair, where another half-staff rested. “It was no secret to either of you. Actually, there were several secrets. One was the fact that you’d made several unsuccessful attempts to murder High Holder Fhaedyrk. Another was that you—or, more directly, Chardyn—were behind the bloody attack on Governor Fhayt. That didn’t include—”
Both Zarxes and Phaeryn attacked with their Sansang half-staffs. The staffs impacted his shields, and rebounded. Phaeryn’s dropped from his hands, while Zarxes dropped his and, drawing a wide-bladed knife from under his brown jacket, turned and slashed Phaeryn’s throat, then dropped the knife.
For a moment, that act froze Quaeryt. In that moment, Zarxes turned, took three steps to the shelves, and reached out. The shelves swung aside, revealing a circular staircase.
Quaeryt rushed toward the staircase, but the shelves closed with a dull thud.
He tried pressing or pushing where he’d seen Zarxes put his hand—on a seemingly ornamental protrusion on the bracket holding a lamp—but nothing happened. He glanced back at the still-struggling Phaeryn, whose bloody hands came away from his neck as he pitched forward, dying, if not already dead.
Quaeryt tried to image part of the mechanism away, but nothing happened except that his head felt like it would split where he stood.
Iron-lined … or metal anyway … behind all that.
Quaeryt sprinted to the study door, fumbled with the bolt, then flung open the door and sprinted down the corridor and out onto the porch. As he started across the porch to issue orders to Gauswn, a figure with a half-staff launched himself at Quaeryt, only to rebound from the scholar’s shields. Quaeryt ignored the interruption as he stopped at the edge of the porch. “Gauswn! Send a patrol out to look for a scholar with silver-blond hair and beard! That’s Zarxes. He killed the Master Scholar. Have them capture any scholar they see away from the scholarium. Then report back to me inside.” Then he whirled and jabbed a finger at the middle-aged and gray-haired scholar who stood waiting. “Nalakyn—find me a sledge and an ax! Bring them to the Master Scholar’s study! Now!”
The scholar paled, then swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt thought that Zarxes had probably used the hidden staircase to access an escape tunnel, if one happened to be located near the staircase. Quaeryt had few doubts about that, but he needed to make certain, just on the off chance that Zarxes was holed up down below.
He turned in time to see the man who had attacked him—Alkiabys—scurry across the porch and into the building by the eastern front porch door. He took a step in that direction, then stopped. He couldn’t afford the time to chase Alkiabys.
“None of you are to leave the porch or the building!” He turned and hurried back inside and down the corridor to Phaeryn’s study. Several scholars and students backed away from him as he did. Absently, he realized that neither Lankyt nor Syndar were among them.
He stopped in the study doorway, but the only figure inside was the sprawled and motionless form of the Master Scholar. In a few moments, Nalakyn appeared with a sledge, followed by a young scholar bearing an ax, then by Gauswn.
Quaeryt stepped back. “Nalakyn, Undercaptain, inspect the body. I’d like you to see what happened before anyone else disturbs matters.” A few moments wouldn’t matter so far as Zarxes happened to be concerned. He was either running—and while the cavalry patrol might catch him, Quaeryt wouldn’t—or hidden in the lower levels, in which case he wasn’t going anywhere soon.
Gauswn knelt first, away from the blood pooled on the polished but worn wooden floor. “A single cut across the throat. It’s deep.”
Nalakyn bent over and then straightened. He was pale when he rose, and he swallowed several times. “Why … why would Zarxes do that?” He frowned. “Where did he go? None of us saw him.”
“I was hoping you could shed some light on why the princeps did that. Think it over. Now … there’s a hidden staircase behind those shelves. That’s how he left. If anyone knows how to open it … fine. If not, we need to break through it.” He looked to Nalakyn.
“I didn’t know there was anything there, sir.”
“Which side was swung out, sir?” asked Gauswn, rising to his feet.
Quaeryt concentrated, trying to remember. “The left.”
“Then there might be a catch somewhere between the planks that form the edges of the cases there.” Gauswn took the ax from the student scholar, hefted it, then stepped toward the seemingly unbroken wall of shelves.
Three deftly aimed strokes of the ax—so precise that Quaeryt had to wonder where the undercaptain had learned to handle it—and one slightly splintered polished support later, the section of shelves leaned forward, but only about a third of a yard, if that.
Gauswn stepped away. “The back is lined with iron, and there’s an iron rod affixed to a plate. A long cold chisel would be better. I’ll just break the ax, otherwise.”
So Quaeryt found himself waiting for another fraction of a quint before another student hurried back with the cold chisel.
Finally, Gauswn snapped the junction between rod and plate and the shelves swung open. “I should go first, sir.”
“No. You follow me.” Quaeryt stepped around the undercaptain, contracted his shields so that they were close to his body and strengthened them, and then eased down the circular wooden staircase, sturdy enough that it did not even creak once.
At the bottom of the staircase he faced an open space and two doors. Both were closed, but in the dim light that filtered down, he could see bootprints on the dusty stone floor leading to the door on the right. He stepped forward and opened the door—only to find shelves stacked with bottles that looked to hold wine.
He studied the wine closet again, until he saw where the dust had been disturbed. He tried to lift the bottle, but it did not move. He tried to pull it toward him. There was a slight give, but nothing more. He pushed the neck of the bottle, and the entire back of the closet swung away, revealing a long tunnel curving toward the west and angling downhill, a tunnel not quite tall enough for Quaeryt to stand erect.
Quaeryt stepped back into the lower level of the building. “Undercaptain, you might have some men follow the tunnel and see where it leads. But have them be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt opened the second door. The shelves there held dusty squat jars. He touched several, but they all also adhered to the wooden shelves on which they rested. He pulled and pushed on almost a score before the back of the closet swung away.
This time, Quaeryt swallowed. Beyond the false closet was a squarish chamber, in which blades were racked on one part of the wall, crossbows on an
other, seven pikes on another … and various other weapons and accouterments, some of which Quaeryt had never seen.
“Mother of the Namer…” Gauswn looked to Quaeryt.
“I think we know a little better why not too many people in Tilbora are exactly fond of the dear scholars.” Quaeryt shook his head. “This will keep. Go see about getting men to follow the tunnel and see if the patrols had any fortune in finding the good scholar Zarxes. Or the young one who tried to attack me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The dust suggested that neither the armory nor the tunnel had been used at least in a few weeks, but Quaeryt didn’t see any reason to point that out. The expressions on Nalakyn’s face suggested that the preceptor of students hadn’t known, either, although Quaeryt would have wagered that Alkiabys knew … and that raised the question of where Chardyn’s assistant had gone. Quaeryt doubted Alkiabys was anywhere near the Ecoliae, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if there happened to be another tunnel, and even another armory. In fact, the way matters were going, he would have been shocked if there weren’t.
When Quaeryt followed Gauswn up the narrow spiral staircase and emerged back in the Master Scholar’s study, he looked at Nalakyn, who had remained, as if frozen. “Nalakyn, I imagine you’re the most senior scholar here. I want every scholar to come to the door of the study and see this, but no one is to touch the body. Then I want them all to assemble in the dining hall. The students will have to remain in the building for now, but they don’t have to see the body or attend the assembly. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“After the meeting, we’ll discuss arrangements for the pyre. There will be no services and no memorial.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t think the scholars can afford a memorial to a traitor to Lord Bhayar, and I certainly don’t intend to allow it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you may go.” Quaeryt did not take a deep breath until he was momentarily alone. Then he headed for the front porch to see if the company’s troopers had been able to find Zarxes. He paused for a moment as he noticed the figure of the ancient chorister walking away from Gauswn, again mounted, but he had to wait only a few moments before the undercaptain rode over.
“Any fortune in finding the princeps?”
Gauswn’s reply was simple. “No … sir.”
“I didn’t think they would. What about the other one?”
“They’re still looking…” Gauswn looked down from his mount at Quaeryt. “What would you have us do now?”
“I’m going to meet with the scholars. After that, I’m going to write a quick report to the governor so that one of your men can ride back and inform him. Then we both wait for orders. In the meantime, no scholar goes anywhere.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt walked around the entire porch, but it was empty. After a time, he made his way to the dining hall. As he stepped inside, the murmurs died to absolute silence.
“Please be seated.” He waited until everyone was in a chair before he continued. “The reason you are assembled here is very simple. Both your reputations and possibly your lives are in danger. Some scholars have been involved in acts against both High Holders and the former governor of Tilbor. In addition, when I brought this matter up before the Master Scholar and the princeps less than a glass ago, your beloved princeps attacked me with the half-staff of the Sansang and then slashed the throat of Master Scholar Phaeryn. He escaped through the secret tunnel from the study of the Master Scholar. I requested Scholar Nalakyn to have you all view the study so that there would be no mistake about what occurred.
“Hard as it may be for some of you to accept what has happened, the fact is that the roots of the problem lie years in the past. That past is past, and anyone who attempts to use it as a cause or as a reason will suffer. I don’t care about the past. Neither does the governor. Nor does the princeps of Tilbor. We all care about the present and what happens from now onward.
“I will be acting as Master Scholar to oversee the transition to a true scholarium, one devoted to scholarship and study, and to education. The school will continue. The practice of Sansang will not. For the moment, Scholar Nalakyn will act as princeps.” Quaeryt stopped and waited for several moments. “I trust that is clear. For a time longer, no one will leave the scholarium. Anyone who does leave, when that is allowed, will no longer be considered a scholar, and their name and description will be sent to every scholarium in Telaryn.” He turned to Nalakyn. “You may say whatever you think appropriate after I leave. Then join me in the princeps’s study.”
Quaeryt walked out of the dining hall and to the princeps’s study, where he sat down and began to write a summary of exactly what had happened so that Gauswn could send one of the rankers with the report to the governor. When he finished, since Nalakyn had not arrived yet, Quaeryt went to find Gauswn.
The undercaptain was in the rear courtyard and rode over to where Quaeryt stood on the edge of the rear covered porch.
“Here’s the report to the governor. Oh … could your man go to my quarters at the palace and pick up some gear? I have the feeling I may be here much longer than you or your men.”
Gauswn frowned. “Sir … is that safe? Staying here?”
“It will be.” One way or another.
“But with an armory like that…?”
“There’s another one somewhere as well, and probably another tunnel, but the scholars responsible are dead or fleeing to the hill holders. Most of those left just want to be scholars, and they never wanted to be anything else. And that’s what they will be.”
“Yes, sir.” Gauswn didn’t sound totally convinced.
“If you’d get that report off to the governor…”
“Oh … yes, sir.”
“I need to meet with the preceptor of students. He’ll be acting princeps. I’ll have to act as Master Scholar for a time.”
“You’re the only one who could, sir.”
Quaeryt couldn’t refute that, and didn’t try. “I’ll be in the princeps’s study if you need me.” He turned and headed back across the porch, glancing to the northwest, where dark clouds were massing for an autumn-afternoon thunderstorm.
He still had to wait almost half a glass for Nalakyn.
“I’m sorry, sir. It took a while.”
“It did. You were in the dining hall a long time. What did they say—besides being outraged?” asked Quaeryt, his tone gently ironic.
“I pointed out that you were a scholar and that you represented Lord Bhayar … and that you had the power to remake or destroy the Ecoliae. Some of them didn’t like it. I also pointed out that when you left, Chardyn vanished, and that when you returned, Zarxes killed the Master Scholar and fled.” Nalakyn shrugged apologetically. “It seems to me that opposing you and Lord Bhayar isn’t a good idea. Most of them understood what I meant. Some of them only understood that you have power.”
Quaeryt understood the distinction, and that didn’t make him any happier. The next days would be anything but pleasant. At the same time, he had the feeling that, somehow, he’d played into Rescalyn’s hands … and that bothered him even more.
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While Quaeryt waited for further orders, he set to dealing with the tasks that needed immediate resolution. The first was finding the other armory and tunnel. That proved much easier than finding the first two had been. He just lined up the scholars and asked, pointing out that no one was going to be happy if he had to take an ax to every wall in the scholarium—that was what he insisted that all the scholars call it from then on—especially if Lord Bhayar’s armsmen had to waste time doing it.
Finally, a younger scholar suggested that he try the lower-level laundry room on the east side. There the access to the other tunnel and a larger armory—one without dust—came through two working linen closets. The tunnel ended a quarter mille to the east in the middle of a small garden under a circular stone sculpted with the design of a quill pen. There were b
ootprints, but no sign of Alkiabys.
Then he had Nalakyn locate a roster of the scholars and students and have a student make a copy for him while he made a top-to-bottom, room-by-room inspection of all the buildings. After that, Nalakyn briefed him on the usual daily and weekly activities of all scholars and students. Gauswn returned and informed him that continuing patrols around the Ecoliae had discovered no sign of either missing scholar.
Late on Vendrei afternoon, just after the pyre that turned Phaeryn into ashes subsided into ashes itself, a ranker courier returned from the Telaryn Palace with a dispatch for Quaeryt—and all of his gear. The dispatch was brief.
Your handling of the scholars was acceptable. Given the situation, the governor believes you should remain at the Ecoliae for the time and continue your efforts to reorganize the scholars along lines more in keeping with the traditional practices of scholars and in correspondence with the needs of Telaryn as a whole. One squad will remain with you. Report any new developments. You will receive further orders as required.
The brevity and wording of the dispatch—and the arrival of his gear—made two things very clear. Quaeryt would be staying at the scholarium for at least a few more days, and Straesyr was displeased. The latter suggested that Straesyr didn’t know or wish to admit what Rescalyn had in mind.
Before receiving the dispatch, he’d worried about taking on authority he didn’t have, but he’d justified it to himself by asking how else he could save the scholars from themselves. After the dispatch, he worried about his handling being merely “acceptable.” What in the Namer’s sake had they expected?
He worried even more about why Zarxes had murdered Phaeryn. Because the Master Scholar would reveal too much? To throw the blame—at least in the minds of the hill holders—on Quaeryt and the governor? Or merely as a self-centered delaying tactic to allow Zarxes himself to escape? Or was there some other reason he hadn’t even considered?
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