“Horsey … go see.”
“Not now … dear. You can see Uncle Casym’s horse someday.”
The mother let her son watch for several moments before she gently urged him along and toward the shops to the north.
Jusaph had taken close to two quints dealing with the three ferrymen at the piers before he returned. Quaeryt walked his mare to the fountain to accompany Jusaph, but stood back while the undercaptain pumped fresh water into the horse trough.
“Is it part of your duties to talk to the ferrymen?”
“We’re supposed to be friendly and interested. I just ask them if there’s anything we should know about, ask how the river’s running … try to let them know we’re here if they need us.”
“It must help that you know the river.”
“Only a handful remember when I was a boy bow-poler,” replied Jusaph with a laugh. “I hope they don’t hold it against me. I wasn’t very good.”
“How did you end up in the regiment?”
“I always liked horses … and I’m the youngest. With five older brothers … well … it seemed to make sense to do something else, and the governor was offering a two-gold bonus for recruits who made it through training. I did and gave the golds to Diera for her dowry.”
“Diera’s a sister?”
“Practically raised me. Mother died when I was three. Anyway … it’s worked out.…” He smiled and turned. “Squad leaders! Time to mount up!”
After watering the mare, Quaeryt didn’t quite scramble into his saddle, but he certainly wasn’t as graceful as the undercaptain.
From the piers, the patrol continued along the river road, the same one that Quaeryt had ridden twice before-although once had been the first time he entered Tilbora, and the second had been in the dark, and he didn’t recall a number of structures along the river, but all of them looked more solid than he’d recalled. Was he just getting used to Tilbor, or had he failed to understand at first that everything was built more to withstand the impact of the long winters than for superficial attractiveness?
After riding a good glass, during which several of the rankers-and Jusaph-got waves and smiles, the patrol rode past the road Quaeryt had taken to the Ecoliae and continued along the river road, past even the ramshackle pier where Quaeryt had thrown Chardyn’s body into the river. No one came out to tell the undercaptain about a body, but it was likely the river had carried it farther downstream. After another half glass, the undercaptain turned the patrol due north.
“This is the inner hill road,” explained the undercaptain. “If we’d ridden another two milles along the river, we would have come to the outer hill road. They both join about a mille west of the palace.”
“Do they become the road that runs along the dry moat?”
“That’s the one. The next time we patrol, we’ll likely go out that way and take the outer hill road. We always have to do the river road.”
Again, Quaeryt listened for another quint before asking, “Is there a Scholars’ House somewhere around here?”
“Yes, sir.” Jusaph pointed eastward. “Do you see the hillside with the domed building? That’s the anomen for the scholars, and their place-it’s called the Ecoliae-is on the next hill toward us. They’ve got a school there. Most of the students are from trade or holder families. There used to be some from the hill holders, who lived there, but I don’t know if there are now.”
“I thought the hill holders were the ones who attack your patrols. Why…? I’m not sure I understand,” Quaeryt said.
“They’re not the same, sir. Well … most aren’t. The trouble comes from those who hold timberlands. Most of the hill holders do, but some don’t. I think the smaller holders are afraid to displease the larger ones.”
“I’d think that would make it difficult. For the governor, I mean. Scholars usually don’t ask about the parents of their students so long as the parents pay for their schooling.”
“Our orders are to leave the scholars alone. That’s unless they do something against the law, but they never have. Not that anyone’s been able to prove.”
“I’d thought about visiting them, but I think I’d best refrain until I understand how matters are.”
“I’m sure they’d be quite friendly.”
“That may be, but since I’m on the governor’s staff…”
“I see what you mean.”
“How old is the scholars’ place? Do you know?”
“It’s been around for a long time. That’s all I know. You’re the first scholar I’ve ever talked to.”
Quaeryt understood the question the undercaptain hadn’t asked. “I’m afraid I’m not like most scholars. I left the scholars before I finished schooling and went to sea. After six years I came back and pleaded for them to take me back.” He hadn’t pleaded; he’d bargained, but that wasn’t something he wanted to get into with Jusaph. “They took me back.”
“I wondered, sir.”
For the next half mille, the undercaptain was quiet, and Quaeryt let him have his space. Finally, he did ask, “Will you do a patrol tomorrow or Vendrei?”
“No, sir. The mounts get a rest tomorrow, but the men will spend the day on blade drills. On Vendrei, we’ll be at the east maneuver fields practicing full-company exercises.”
“They keep you occupied.”
“Commander Myskyl-he’s the regiment commander-says that there are only two kinds of soldiers: those who are always prepared to fight and those who are dead. Some of the majors think we’ll have to fight the Bovarians before long. You’ve just come from Solis. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard stories that Lord Bhayar’s concerned about them, especially after the way Rex Kharst massacred so many of the Khellans.”
“That’s what Major Skarpa says. You can’t trust them. Anyone who does is foolish.”
Quaeryt nodded and shifted his weight in the saddle. It was well past the second glass of the afternoon, and most of those four glasses since he’d first mounted up had been in the saddle.
As they neared the Telaryn Palace, Quaeryt couldn’t help but think that, for all the concerned tone in the dispatches he had read, he certainly hadn’t seen any signs of hostility on the part of the people as the patrol had ridden past. People had looked up, then gone back about their business, some smiling, some frowning, some indifferent, but no one’s behavior had seemed to change at the appearance of the patrol.
While he didn’t think he’d learn anything new, once he stabled and groomed the mare, he would finish reading all the rest of the dispatches. With his luck, if he didn’t, the one dispatch he missed would be the one that would have told him something he needed to know.
He shifted his weight in the saddle again. With each passing quint, riding got more uncomfortable.
43
After returning from the patrol, Quaeryt stabled and groomed the mare, then made his way up to the second level of the palace, where he stopped to inform Vhorym that he had returned and that he would be heading to the dispatch room.
“You might check your desk before you go to the dispatch room, sir.”
“Thank you. I will.” Quaeryt managed a smile, then turned and made his way to his study.
There on the desk was an envelope with his name on it, and underneath his name was also written “Scholar Assistant to the Princeps.”
Now what?
He opened the letter, took out the single sheet, and read:
THE HONORABLE RESCALYN CALYNSYN,
MARSHAL AND GOVERNOR OF TILBOR,
REQUESTS THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE
AT A RECEPTION IN THE PALACE,
AT THE SIXTH GLASS OF THE EVENING,
SAMEDI, 35 AGOSTAS
IN THE GREEN SALON.
There was no line suggesting a response, but then, since Quaeryt was assigned to the princeps, who reported directly to the governor, the invitation was essentially a command to appear … if a very polite one.
He had no formal attire,
or even the equivalent of a dress uniform. The new browns were the best he could manage, and he had not worn one of the new sets yet. They’d have to do.
He slipped the invitation-or summons-back inside the envelope and placed the envelope in the single flat drawer in the table desk. Then he left the study and headed over to the governor’s anteroom to obtain the key to the dispatch room. He had to wait almost half a quint before Caermyt returned, and he began to wonder if he should image a copy of the key.
No. That’s an invitation to trouble, especially if you’re found there when Caermyt has the key. He could use an imaging concealment.…
He shook his head and waited.
Once he obtained the key, he hurried downstairs, but he’d no more than started to light the lamps in the dispatch room than he realized he had to write a report of his arrival to Bhayar immediately because the weekly dispatch rider left early the next morning … and he needed to finish the reply to Vaelora-for more reasons than one.
Rather than return the key, because he intended to finish reading the dispatches after the evening meal, he locked the dispatch room and hurried back to his own quarters, where he retrieved the letter he’d begun to Vaelora, before heading back to his formal study.
Once there, he started in on the report to Bhayar, knowing that it would likely be read long before it reached the Lord of Telaryn. He made it short, and the only inaccuracies were in what he did not report, because he mentioned the travel and the delay in Nacliano, as well as his concerns about the attitude toward scholars, but not his actions there. He also reported the storm and shipwreck, and his illness, possible poisoning, and his recovery, but then noted that after recovering he had traveled to Tilbora and reported to the princeps on the twenty-seventh of Agostas. He concluded by noting the courtesy and the helpfulness of both the princeps and the governor in allowing him full access to all parts of the Telaryn Palace and its records, as well as arranging for him to accompany various patrols.
Finishing the letter to Vaelora took more time. He did add a section about his duties in general and a few words about the one patrol on which he had ridden.
… Although this was the first patrol I accompanied, the governor has assured me that there will be many more so that I can fully experience the difficulties and the successes that he and his regiment have achieved and report most accurately to Lord Bhayar. It does appear that the problems he faces in dealing with Tilbor lie in the areas away from Tilbora, especially in the far north and in the hilly timberlands of the Boran Hills. He has also had much success in recruiting men and junior officers, especially from around Tilbora, where there are warmer feelings toward him and his men. I have not met with any High Holders or merchants but look forward to encountering the latter as time permits.…
I offer my deep appreciation for your thoughts and concerns, and especially for your efforts to assure that your correspondence did indeed reach me.
Quaeryt pondered the closing for a time before settling on “In sincerest admiration and appreciation.”
By the time he finished, addressed, and sealed both missives, it was approaching time for supper, and he slipped both inside the desk drawer, then left the study to wash up and make his way to the mess.
When Quaeryt stepped into the mess, he saw that the chamber was already almost completely filled, and all of the close to a hundred officers were wearing jackets. He recalled, if belatedly, that Jeudi night was mess night. He was wearing a jacket, but a scholar’s brown jacket was certainly not as formal as even the green jackets worn with undress greens.
“Your place is near the bottom of the nearest table, sir,” offered the squad leader by the doorway, “where the green oblong is. The far table is all for undercaptains.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt walked toward the nearest table, and located the only vacant place-where just to the left was a green cloth folded into an oblong. He sat down quickly.
To his left was a black-haired, thin-faced captain. “Greetings. You must be the scholar. I’m Haestyn.”
“Quaeryt. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Dueryl,” offered the undercaptain directly across the table from Quaeryt. “We wondered who was the new captain. Haestyn’s been junior captain for over a month.”
“Scholars don’t really have rank,” said Quaeryt. “I think they decided to put me between ranks for just that reason.”
“That sounds like regimental thinking,” murmured someone farther down the table among the undercaptains.
“All rise for the marshal!” boomed out a voice.
Along with the others, Quaeryt rose. He glanced toward the door, where Rescalyn stepped into the mess, also wearing the green undress uniform and jacket.
“As you were!” ordered Rescalyn.
The officers remained standing as Rescalyn walked to the end of the center table where he was greeted by a gray-haired commander, presumably Myskyl, Commander of the Regiment.
Then Rescalyn motioned, and all the officers seated themselves. The governor remained standing. After everyone was seated, he began to speak.
“Gentlemen of the mess … I can’t ever stand here and look out without feeling a debt of gratitude for the dedication and leadership you all embody.” There was a pause and then a grin. “But I’ll be the first to apply a boot to your backside if you ever try to rest on it … or on your laurels.…”
The way in which Rescalyn spoke brought low laughs from the assembled officers.
“… you may ask why we’re working so hard when most of our problems lie in and around the Boran Hills or with a few disgruntled High Holders so far to the north that they’re walled off behind ice for all but a few weeks out of the year. The reason is simple. There’s a ruler. Rex Kharst.” Rescalyn’s sardonic delivery brought more chuckles. “He has this habit of massacring people, and he’d like to put all of Lydar under his fat thumb. We have to be ready to deal with him when he tries … and after what he did to the good people of Khel, there’s no doubt that he’ll try, sooner more likely than later. Just keep that in mind.
“Now … I’d like to note particularly noteworthy evolutions this past week…”
As he listened, Quaeryt couldn’t help but note that the governor’s delivery was far better than his words and that most officers listened intently.
“… and like all marshals … I’ve probably used more words to say less … and I wish it were the other way around.… Enjoy yourselves.”
Abruptly, Quaeryt realized something else. Rescalyn had never mentioned Lord Bhayar. In fact, while the governor mentioned Bhayar to Quaeryt, Quaeryt had never heard the governor utter Bhayar’s name or title in public, and certainly not before his officers.
“Red or white wine, scholar?” asked Dueryl.
Quaeryt had seen the carafes on the table, but hadn’t actually paid them much attention, since he’d been concentrating on Rescalyn. “What’s on the platters?”
“Whitefish with a cream sauce or veal cutlets with mushrooms and brown sauce.”
“Red, thank you.” Quaeryt took the carafe and filled the goblet he’d been provided rather than the mug usually placed before each officer.
“Scholar … how soon do you think Kharst will attack?” That came from the captain beside Haestyn.
“I’m more of a historian. Historically, there are more attacks in late spring and summer. Offhand, I don’t know of any wars started in late fall or winter. If I had to guess…” Quaeryt paused, then went on, “I’d say that if he doesn’t attack now in the next week or so, it’s unlikely until spring. But, as I said, I’m a historian. What do you think?”
“If he attacked in midfall, we’d have trouble getting from here to the border with Bovaria.”
“You’d have to swing south of Montagne,” replied Quaeryt, “but that would only add a week or two, and his forces would have trouble in the north, especially if they tried to move on Extela.”
“He uses more muskets, and they aren’t much good in
the rain, and there are a lot of cold rains north of Solis in fall and winter,” added someone else.
“… it rained in Khel, and that didn’t stop them…”
As the others talked, Quaeryt helped himself to the veal and mushrooms and the seasoned rice, as well as the stewed and sweetened quince slices. Then he began to eat, occasionally adding a comment, but mainly enjoying the fare and the wine.
Later, during a lull in the conversation, Quaeryt looked across at Dueryl. “I’ve been told we get paid tomorrow, but not the details.…”
“Oh … they set up a pay table here in the mess for the glass before the evening meal, and if you don’t want to take it, they’ll just leave it in your pay account until you do.”
“That’s good to know.”
A louder voice rode over the others. “I still say that we’ll be at war in less than a year.…”
“… where … with Kharst or the Antiagons?”
After leaving the mess, much later, Quaeryt headed back to the main part of the palace. He had to finish reading the remainder of the dispatches.
44
After sitting through mess night, Quaeryt had returned to the dispatch room with the key he’d kept and spent two more glasses reading by lamplight in order to finish reading all the dispatches. None of those he read differed in tone or outlook from all those he’d read before. There were only a few mentions of disturbances in or around Tilbora. As in the dispatches he’d read earlier, almost all the problems mentioned were in or around the Boran Hills, from what he’d been able to tell. He’d gone to sleep Jeudi night more confused than ever.
He was less sore and more rested when he woke on Vendrei morning, but no less confused. He ate quickly, then retrieved both envelopes from his study and hurried out to the dispatch station next to the gatehouse. There the courier waited beside his mount, accompanied by two other hard-faced rankers, already mounted. Quaeryt handed the first envelope to the man.
He looked at it and at Quaeryt, then nodded. “Yes, sir, for Lord Bhayar. The governor told us.” The sealed report went into one of the saddlebags. Then he looked at the second, and his eyes widened, doubtless at the addressee-Mistress Vaelora Chayardyr. But he nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
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