Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “More likely, it was closer to forty.”

  “Some of them have so little.” Vaelora looked at him. “I remembered what Father told me about helping people. You don’t give them all of anything. They have to make an effort.”

  “Otherwise … they come to expect charity too much.”

  She nodded. “But it’s still sad.”

  “Were there many who looked not to be too deprived?”

  “Most of those who came had the coin for what they needed, and some said that they felt safer with all the troopers around.”

  “That was part of the reason for sending so many. Do you think Extela looks better than when we first arrived?”

  “Yes. Paying coppers to some of the women to sweep up the ash has helped, too.” Vaelora offered a faint smile. “We should wash up for dinner.”

  Quaeryt leaned toward her and brushed her cheek with his lips. “We should indeed.”

  “For dinner, dearest. Just for dinner.”

  He couldn’t help grinning.

  “You’re being—”

  “Impossible, but not disrespectful.”

  Vaelora laughed softly and took his hand.

  29

  For Vaelora, Mardi began in the same fashion as Lundi had. Quaeryt saw her off beside Fhaen, riding near the head of three companies from Fourth Battalion. As she had been readying the gelding to leave, he’d suggested that she didn’t need to go to watch over the sales of goods every day, but she had been adamant.

  “It makes a difference if the governor’s wife is there. Besides, what would you have me do here at the post?”

  Given the results of her last “free” day at the post, Quaeryt had offered no objections. He only said, “Please keep your eyes open for anything that seems unusual or out of place.”

  “Don’t I always?” had been her response just before she had mounted the gelding and ridden across the courtyard to rein up beside Major Fhaen.

  Quaeryt stifled the wince he felt and smiled. “Yes, you do.”

  Once Vaelora had ridden out through the post gates, Quaeryt went to the study he had made his own to meet with Major Dhaeryn to discuss the priorities for repairs to the city, especially those that could be done in addition to those on the River Aqueduct and the east bridge, both of which were absolutely necessary.

  The first thing Dhaeryn said when he walked into the study and sat down stopped Quaeryt cold.

  “We’ve had our first death, Governor … on the bridge.”

  “What happened? Did some of the stones shift or something?” The last thing Quaeryt wanted was another complication, like the makeshift bridge collapsing before Dhaeryn was ready to start rebuilding it.

  The major shook his head. “A foolish thing. I had one of the newer rankers checking the east shore piers. He was careless, slipped and went into the river.”

  “He drowned?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Dhaeryn shook his head. “He must have swallowed some water wrong, because he was lying on the stones when the others found him. They thought he’d had a dizzy spell or something. But he was cold. Dead.”

  “Then how did he drown, if he wasn’t in the water?”

  “He got too much water in his lungs. I’d guess he couldn’t cough it all up somehow. You know, that’s how some old people die. My great uncle did. He got consumption, and there was so much water in his lungs he just drowned.” The major paused. “You don’t think it would happen to a young man, but it did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should have sent someone with him, but the rocks down there looked dry and solid. You never know.”

  Drowning … after getting out of the water? Quaeryt could see how it might happen … but that seemed so improbable … except it had. “Otherwise … how are things going?”

  “The patrol station … the factorage has been neglected, but it was well built. It won’t be fancy, but we’ll have something the patrollers can use in a week, maybe sooner. The bridge and the aqueduct … they’re going to take longer, and we don’t have enough men or equipment to handle anything else.”

  “Then just work on those until you’ve done what you can.…”

  After Quaeryt finished with the head engineer, while he waited for the group of patrollers first to arrive, he began to review the master ledger Jhalyt had created, albeit with his own improvements, based on the clerk’s experience and some of the samples he’d brought from Tilbora.

  All too soon, there was a knock on the door.

  “Sir … the patrollers are here.” The ranker looked around the small study.

  “If you’d direct them to the officers’ mess, we’ll meet there.”

  Quaeryt gathered Jhalyt, gave him instructions, and the two walked to the officers’ mess.

  With Jaramyr stood five other patrollers first. All were in uniform, and all viewed Quaeryt warily.

  Projecting both friendliness and authority, Quaeryt gestured to the table. “Please sit down, patrollers. This is my chief clerk, Jhalyt. We’ll need him to re-create things like pay ledgers.” Quaeryt sat down at the end of the table. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Governor Quaeryt. I was the princeps of Tilbor, and when he heard of the troubles here, Lord Bhayar sent me here to be governor. For the past few days, I’ve been having regimental troops patrol the streets. As Jaramyr may have told you, I have the regimental engineers converting a factorage in the southeast into a patrol station. We needed a building you could use quickly, and it’s also removed from the area where the lava and ash might strike again.” He paused. “I’d like each of you to introduce yourself and tell me what duties you handled as a civic patroller. Jaramyr … you can start.”

  The burly patroller swallowed, then spoke. “Jaramyr Delonsyn. Mostly, I was the senior patroller on the beats along the river from about a mille north of the piers down to the east bridge…”

  “Chelsyr Catholsyn … senior patroller on beats north of the governor’s square…”

  “Waollyt Aolsyn … senior patroller … west end south of the old palace…”

  When he had heard from everyone there, he asked, “Do all of you intend to continue with the Civic Patrol?”

  Nods went around the table.

  Quaeryt looked to Jhalyt. “Did you get everyone’s name?”

  “Yes, sir, except I’d like to check the spelling, sir.”

  “After we finish, please verify your name with Jhalyt. Now … it appears as though no one was patrolling when we arrived. That tells me that, at present, I’ll have to appoint an acting chief from the regiment. Who that will be hasn’t been decided. For the moment I’m acting chief.” Quaeryt looked to the youngest man at the end of one side of the table. “Reyol, what is the pay of a patroller first when he initially becomes a first?” Quaeryt projected a touch of authority and the sense that lying would be unwise.

  “Ah … a silver and two a week, sir.”

  “Chelsyr … a senior patroller first?”

  “Tops out at two silvers a week after fifteen years, sir.”

  With several more questions, Quaeryt effectively had given Jhalyt enough information for a pay chart. “Now … when you verify your name, let Jhalyt know your years of service. If I find out that anyone lies, I’ll put you up before a justicer for theft. Is that clear? Now … Chelsyr … you have a duty roster?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d like you to go over that with Jhalyt afterward, with the names of patrollers likely to return and their ranks. You all will be paid. While you’re giving your information to Jhalyt, I’ll be getting your pay for the time from the Vendrei before the eruption to last Vendrei…”

  All in all, the remaining details took close to a glass.

  Then, after everyone left, considerably more cheerful, with coins in their wallets, and after more discussion with Jhalyt about revising the structure of the temporary pay roster for the Civic Patrol that Jhalyt and Heireg had created, Quaeryt had Jhalyt draft a set of tarif
f schedules and rules for Montagne, again based on the documents and records he’d had the foresight to have copied before he’d left Tilbora. That led to one other problem. Because Tilbor had been governed as a conquered province, all the administration had been handled by the regiment. In Montagne, as in all other provinces, the governor’s clerks were all hired by the governor … or the princeps … or the chief clerk, and that meant setting up another structure and set of ledgers.

  When he returned to his own study, Quaeryt was still considering the possibility that such records might have survived, although his experience in entering the governor’s building had suggested that probability was close to nonexistent. Even if some had survived under the ash in the lower level, he doubted that more than a few would be readable, and he certainly didn’t have the time to go looking for them.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Yes?”

  The two clerks eased the door open and stepped inside.

  “Sir … there are several other things,” began Jhalyt.

  “I’m sure there are.” Quaeryt grinned wryly. “What have I overlooked? Or what am I about to overlook?”

  “Vendrei will be the last day of Maris, sir.”

  For just a moment, Quaeryt wondered why the chief clerk was offering a calendar. Then he realized the reason. “We haven’t finished setting up the master pay accounts, have we?”

  “I have the accounts set up, sir. The regiment keeps their own ledger, and so does the post. I know how much we’ll need. It’s a month’s worth for the regiment, and just a week’s worth for the post personnel. After Vendrei, we’d planned to disburse weekly for the regiment while they’re quartered here. That’s the way…”

  “I know that. Have you drafted approval forms for me to authorize?”

  “Mostly, sir, but I thought you’d like to see the figures. Also, you directed me as how to set up your accounts as governor, but you didn’t mention what your stipend and monthly expense draw would be … or what level…”

  “Or what level you’d be paid at?” Quaeryt smiled faintly. “Caell was chief clerk, didn’t you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you happen to know what his pay was? When he became chief clerk?”

  “I know he was paid a half gold a week as chief clerk the past two years. Before that … I don’t know.”

  “Did he have an expense draw?”

  “No, sir. He got an additional silver a week for food and lodging.”

  “But you didn’t as his assistant?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What were you making as his assistant?”

  “Three silvers a week.”

  “Then put yourself down for half gold a week in pay.” Quaeryt paused. “Do you or did you have a home…”

  “No, sir. Couldn’t afford one. Not in Extela. I rented a room on the west side. The place is gone.”

  “For now, then, since you’re being fed by the post and have a bunk here, you don’t need to pay for lodging and food. Once you both find other places, we’ll talk over adjustments.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The chief clerk inclined his head deeply.

  “Baharyt … we’ll pay you two silvers a week for now. After a month, the chief clerk and I will review how you’re doing.” Quaeryt was being more than fair, because he’d gathered the young man had barely been working as an apprentice bookkeeper and inventory clerk for three months.

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “You can go. I need to go over a few more things with Jhalyt.”

  Once Baharyt had closed the door, Quaeryt looked to the chief clerk.

  “He was paid a silver and three. He’ll get better.” Jhalyt offered a half smile.

  “About the regiment and post, first,” suggested Quaeryt.

  “Yes, sir.” Jhalyt slid a sheet across the desk.

  Quaeryt looked at the figures in neat columns, and then at the totals. Once again, he managed not to swallow. Two thousand and eleven golds in pay, and three hundred golds in projected supply costs. At least he’d recovered the chests from the treasury strong room. “The next tariffs aren’t due until the end of Mayas, either,” he mused. What are you missing?

  “The second week of Juyn, actually, sir.”

  A month and a half … with no revenue. And likely the tariffs would be low, although not that low, since the collections in Montagne and areas away from Extela shouldn’t suffer that much. “Do you know what the midyear tariffs bring?”

  “Not exactly, sir. Caell said they were only about a third of all the year’s tariffs. Many were paid late, also.”

  Quaeryt waited.

  “I don’t know for certain, sir, because Caell and the governor kept those ledgers to themselves, but I heard figures now and again. I’d guess … I’m only guessing … that the governor collected some fifteen to twenty thousand golds a year.”

  At close to two thousand golds a month, just for regimental pay, Quaeryt realized he couldn’t keep the regiment in Extela for more than a few months—not without requesting payments from Bhayar. He also understood why the post had so few troopers for its size. Then he realized what he’d forgotten. “The regiment should be paying their own men out of what they brought with them. Through the end of Maris, anyway.”

  “Yes, sir. I checked with Captain Dimeark. They’ll pay nineteen hundred and seventeen golds…”

  Quaeryt almost sighed in relief.

  “… but you still have to authorize it. You’ll have to pay them from the treasury here from Avryl on, until they’re transferred to Solis or wherever they’ll be stationed.”

  Still, that meant the immediate loss to what he’d saved of the treasury was still almost four hundred golds.

  “There’s the matter of your stipend, sir.”

  Quaeryt had wondered about that himself. As princeps of Tilbor, Quaeryt had gotten luxurious quarters and been paid five golds a week, ten times what he’d made as a scholar assistant, and half what Straesyr made as both marshal and governor—and as princeps, he hadn’t even had to pay an officer’s mess bill. He’d been stunned by the pay, but Straesyr had told him that most princeps made far more, because the other governors were free to set up their own budgets, so long as they met the guidelines established by Lord Bhayar and his minister of finance. Unfortunately, Quaeryt didn’t have those guidelines, because those in the governor’s square were either ashes or buried under the ash, and there hadn’t been any in Tilbora because they hadn’t applied to Tilbor.

  “I have to confess, Jhalyt, I hadn’t thought about that. Tilbor is run on a military basis. Do you happen to recall the basis for pay guidelines?”

  “No, sir.” A small smile appeared. “I do know that the princeps drew ten golds a week, and he once said that he earned less than a tenth part of what the governor did.”

  A hundred golds a week? Or more? Quaeryt managed to keep from showing astonishment. No wonder so many wanted to be governors! He managed to smile. “I don’t think Montagne, and Extela especially, can afford to pay a governor that much. Not at present or in the very near future. For the moment, put me down for twenty-five golds a week.” That was a calculated amount.

  “Just … twenty-five, sir?”

  “For now. I reserve the right to increase it if matters improve.” He smiled again, ironically. “How can I take a larger amount when I’m asking everyone else to hold down their prices and what they receive?”

  “Begging your pardon, Governor, sir, there’s many that wouldn’t even think that, sir. Most, in fact.”

  “Then we’ll just have to change a few minds, won’t we?”

  There was silence in the small study for several long moments.

  “Sir … word is that you grew up with Lord Bhayar…”

  “You want to know if it’s true? We’ve known each other for over fifteen years, and we had the same tutor. I wouldn’t say that we grew up together. I was trained as a scholar, and then went to sea, and then came back to being a scholar, and the
n a scholar assistant to Bhayar before he dispatched me to Tilbor.”

  “And you fought in the wars there?”

  “Just the last one.”

  “And your lady?”

  “She’s Bhayar’s youngest sister.” Quaeryt smiled wryly. “The marriage was his doing. Fortunately, we’re well suited to each other.”

  Jhalyt swallowed. “Sir … there might be some things you need to know … about the old governor, I mean.”

  “I’m sure there are, and I’d like to hear what you have to say. The more I know, the more I can avoid unnecessary difficulties.” Quaeryt waited.

  “Yes, sir.” Several moments passed before Jhalyt spoke again. “Governor Scythn … there were two sets of ledgers…”

  After hearing what Scythn had drawn as his pay, Quaeryt was scarcely surprised as Jhalyt revealed the means by which the former governor had drawn almost double what he’d reported to Bhayar, and how the former princeps had drawn triple his stated pay. When the chief clerk finished, Quaeryt nodded. “Thank you. In a way, that’s very good.”

  The slightest frown creased the clerk’s brow.

  “It means that in time we’ll have more golds to work with. We just have to get through the next few months.” He rose. “If you’d go find Major Heireg, I’ll meet you outside the strong room. We need to count the rest of what’s in those chests.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In the end, between them, the other four chests contained 12,041 golds, 643 silvers, and 561 coppers. Quaeryt had just over fifteen thousand golds in the provincial treasury, a sum that made him more than a little nervous, but he also understood why provincial governors didn’t like to maintain many soldiers … and, belatedly, why Rescalyn had thought he could have gotten away with what he’d planned.

  A little after the third glass of the afternoon, Quaeryt was once more seated in the study that had been a regimental commander’s, studying an old map of Extela, and adding to his notes of what areas were totally covered in ash or lava and where major repairs were needed.

  There was a knock on the door, and a ranker stood there, holding an envelope. “Sir?”