Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Only after they were riding up the avenue away from the post did the gray-haired Hrehn ask, “How many patrollers are there now, sir?”

  “There were fifty-four yesterday. That includes five patroller firsts. From what they told me, there should have been close to a hundred and sixty patrollers for the entire city, but there were only a few more than a hundred.”

  “That doesn’t seem like that many,” observed Pharyl. “Did they just patrol during the day?”

  “Two shifts, I’ve been told. Day and night.”

  “Fifty men to cover the city,” mused Pharyl. “Were they working in pairs?”

  Quaeryt almost said “yes,” except that he realized he’d never asked. “I assumed so, but I didn’t inquire.”

  “Most patrols do send out men in pairs, from what I’ve seen,” added Hrehn, “but you never know.”

  “Twenty-five teams … What equipment did they have?”

  “Truncheons and belt knives … and a small coil of rope. Uniforms, of course.”

  “Leather wrist shackles would be better,” offered Pharyl. “Heavy leather’s harder to cut.”

  “Why not iron?” asked Quaeryt.

  “It’s too heavy, and to equip an entire patrol would take time.”

  Quaeryt nodded. That made sense, and he hadn’t even considered it. But then, that was one reason why he’d asked for experienced older officers.

  The three reined up outside the patrol station less than a quint before seventh glass, and Quaeryt could see several patrollers walking quickly toward the building.

  “They’re the younger ones,” said Pharyl.

  The front four windows were now protected by iron grates. Quaeryt wondered where Dhaeryn had found those, since two looked to have come from one source, and two from another. The narrow porch was clean and swept, he noted, as he stepped into the front chamber of the station. The area inside the freshly oiled heavy double doors, now in place and each held open by a square-cut black stone as a doorstop, looked completed, with a long desk counter some five yards back from the doors. The wall behind the counter had a single solid door. Looking closely, Quaeryt could see that the engineers and those locals that they had hired had joined sections of wood of differing sizes and grains, but the workmanship and the dark oil stain minimized the contrasts.

  The waiting patrollers stood in five loose formations—their patrols. None stiffened as Quaeryt walked in, followed by the captains, but all conversation stopped. The receiving room was so quiet that Quaeryt could hear the unevenness of his own bootsteps as he walked to a point just before the middle of the counter and turned to face the patrollers. Hrehn took a position to his left, Pharyl to his right.

  After a moment, Jaramyr stepped forward. He glanced from Quaeryt to Hrehn and then to Pharyl, his eyes taking in the Telaryn uniforms before he looked back to the governor. “Sir, all men are present. We also have three former patrollers who would like to rejoin the patrol. They were staying with relatives in nearby towns. Word was slow to reach them.”

  “Thank you for the report. You and the other patrollers first talk to them and tell me what you think tomorrow morning. Have them report tomorrow, and we’ll let them know then. Oh … and everyone will be paid next Vendrei, and every Vendrei after that.” Quaeryt paused, then went on. “I’ve asked Captain Hrehn and Captain Pharyl to accompany me today. After we inspect the progress of the building, we’ll be meeting with each patrol and its patroller first separately. After we meet with each patrol and go over the patrol routes, I’ll be dispatching each one to cover those routes and familiarize each man with the entire route the patrol will be responsible for. Pass that word to the other patrollers first.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Jaramyr turned, Quaeryt could sense the quick exchange between the two captains, but only said, “Let’s see how the engineers are doing on the back area.”

  The door behind the receiving counter opened easily onto a short hallway. As in the walls of the receiving chamber, various sizes and lengths of wood planks smoothly joined and strained comprised the hallway walls. On the right side were three doors, one into a modest study, and two into small studies. Each had a table desk and a single chair. On the left was a single larger chamber, empty of all furnishings. The hallway ended at a cross corridor. There, Quaeryt stopped and looked in both directions at the doorways set at even intervals across the back of the building. The stone and brickwork looked complete on less than half the cells. From what he could tell there were eighteen, nine in the front and nine behind them.

  Major Dhaeryn hurried along the cross corridor, coming to a stop before Quaeryt. “Sir … I’d hoped to see you here. Major Heireg and I will be leaving as soon as he arrives to go meet with High Holder Thysor’s timbermaster.”

  “Good. Just make sure you get the basis for his costs. He should be fair. How are we coming here?”

  “We could only work in eighteen cells. Each should fit two men.”

  “That will have to do, then,” replied Quaeryt with a smile. The smile faded as he recalled that he didn’t have a justicer or even a justice hall, because the old justice hall had been on the south side of the old governor’s square. “We may have to use the larger room back there for a justicing hall for a while.”

  “I’d thought that might be necessary. The men are working on a small dais that can be put at one end.”

  “Thank you.” Once again, Quaeryt felt as though he’d plunged into water over his head and had been rescued by the competence of others. “How are the cells coming?”

  “By Lundi we should have maybe half of them solid and tight. Getting the mortar has been the hard part, but you don’t want a cell with anything but brick and stone walls.”

  “Don’t let me keep you, Major. You need to work out the timbers and heavy planks for the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir. By your leave…”

  “Go…” Quaeryt smiled warmly and gestured.

  Then he crossed the hall and looked into the nearest cell, one that appeared nearly finished. The cell was roughly three yards deep and two and a half wide. The walls were a mixture of stone and brick, and there were two small openings high in the wall, one in front and one in the rear, and two smaller ones also in front and back, level with the stone floor on which the cells had been constructed.

  “Not too small,” murmured Pharyl.

  “Wouldn’t want to spend much time there,” added Hrehn.

  “This won’t serve the city for that long, sir,” said Pharyl.

  “I’d thought that some of the offenders could be used for work parties to clean the city.”

  “They could, but they’d still have to be confined at night,” pointed out Pharyl. “You could flog some of them and let them go for a first offense.”

  “We’ll need to talk about that.” Something else you hadn’t thought about. “Let’s go meet with the patrollers first and their patrols.” Quaeryt turned and walked back to the receiving room and to Jaramyr and his patrol.

  “Sir?” said Jaramyl, stiffening slightly.

  “Have you drawn out individual areas for each patrol?” asked Quaeryt.

  “Ah … no, sir. I’ve shown them on the map you had me draw,” answered Jaramyr.

  Quaeryt didn’t want to press that too hard. “Then after you walk them through the entire area, you and your men need to come back here and decide on who patrols which of the areas. I want each team of two men to patrol the same area for a week, and then switch to another area. With five patrols, each team will spend a week a month in the same area. That should allow familiarity, but not too much familiarity.”

  “Ah … yes, sir.”

  “That may change based on how things go, and how the new chief wants to organize patrols, but that’s the way it will be for now. I’d like to see the map with all the patrol areas drawn in when I meet with you tomorrow morning. After we meet then, you’ll take the patrollers through their areas once more.” Quaeryt paused. “Is that clear?”

/>   “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re dismissed to familiarize your men with their patrol area.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Explaining what he had in mind took slightly longer with the other patrollers first, and it was almost a glass later when Quaeryt and the two captains left the patrol station and headed back to the post, accompanied by a single squad.

  After they had ridden for a time, Quaeryt asked, “What did you think of the patrol station?”

  “Not a bad place for it,” said Hrehn. “Could be larger, like Pharyl said.”

  “The engineers have done a good job for the time they’ve had,” added Pharyl. “In the future, it might be a good idea to build another station on the west side.”

  “You could make that one bigger,” added Hrehn.

  “Do you think they need to patrol all the time … or that they really ever did?” asked Pharyl.

  “What would you suggest?” replied Quaeryt.

  “Two shifts. One from fifth glass of the morning until third glass of the afternoon, the second from second glass of the afternoon to midnight. The time between second and third glass would be used to change patrol shifts and learn what happened and what to look out for.”

  “No patrols at all between midnight and fifth glass?”

  “The patrollers wouldn’t catch many people at those times, and the tavernas and inns aren’t supposed to be serving then anyway.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” There’s a lot you haven’t considered or had time to consider.

  The questions offered by the two after that dealt mainly with administration and supply details, some of which, again, Quaeryt hadn’t fully considered.

  When they returned to the post, Quaeryt dismounted and turned to the pair. “I’d like a word with each of you. Alone in my study. I’ll start with Hrehn.”

  Once he and Hrehn had returned to the study and seated themselves, Quaeryt immediately asked, “What do you think of the patrollers you saw?”

  The big captain offered a slow smile. “They’re scared to death of you, sir. That’d be good because they’re not used to discipline. They need some work there. Like Pharyl said, they really need leather cuffs. Rope takes too much time. The armorers here could make up some.”

  “What else?”

  “You’ll need more men, sir. You know that.”

  “How or where would you suggest we get them?”

  Hrehn frowned. “I can’t say as I have the best ideas for that. I’d not want the present patrollers first making those decisions, though. Not for new recruits. Maybe … put out the word and have them come here to meet with you?”

  Quaeryt asked questions and listened for another half glass, then let the big captain go, saying that he’d like to talk to him again later.

  Pharyl came into the study and seated himself almost cautiously.

  “What do you think of the patrollers and the patrol, Captain?”

  “Might I ask a question, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  “You were watching us as much as the patrollers. I got the idea that you had more in mind than just our opinion. Am I wrong, sir?”

  Quaeryt smiled. “No. You’re not. Are there any other reasons why you thought that?”

  “Hrehn and I are the closest to finishing our time for a stipend, and we’re both from this part of the country. There’s also no patrol chief, and there are no captains.”

  “You’re right about that. But I do want your opinion.”

  “There’s a lot of work to be done if you want a decent Civic Patrol. You’ve got them in line for now, but in another month, unless you get a good chief and senior captain, you’ll have trouble…”

  Quaeryt noted the way Pharyl linked the chief and captain, but nodded and kept listening.

  “… They’ll just go back to their old ways, and they’ll have their hands out for coins and favors.”

  “You seem certain of that.”

  “I grew up in Montagne. You know that. Even when I was a boy, people talked about how you had to pay the patrollers in Extela for everything to avoid trouble. More than a few friends left Extela and came to Montagne.” Pharyl laughed softly. “You only had to pay the patrollers in Montagne if you might be in real trouble.”

  “So how would a new chief stop that?”

  “You’ll never stop it all. You might keep it way down. The best way would be to let it be known that you wouldn’t look too hard if a patroller got a free meal now and again, but that anything more might end them up in a cell, if not worse. That’d work if the patrollers thought the chief wasn’t taking coins from their payroll or accepting golds from every factor or High Holder around. If the new chief ends up on the take…” The wiry captain shook his head.

  “What sort of new chief would you suggest?”

  Pharyl smiled wryly. “If I were looking, I’d want an older officer who came up through the ranks and wasn’t too senior.”

  “Why?”

  “A commander or a marshal would be looking for more golds, and the only way to get them would be the way you wouldn’t want. So they’d either leave or end up on the take. A captain or major could expect more pay and less danger than in service. They wouldn’t have any expectations about the patrollers, either.”

  “Would you be interested?”

  “Yes, sir. I would. But not unless Hrehn would agree to be the senior captain. It’d take two of us. And I’d want to be paid as much as a major.”

  A gold a week was certainly affordable, reflected Quaeryt. “Do you have any idea if Hrehn would be interested?”

  “I don’t know … not for certain. He’d talked about whether he could be a captain of patrollers in Montagne. He didn’t think it was possible here.”

  “Let’s see. If you’d wait here a moment while the duty messenger finds Captain Hrehn.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt stepped out into the corridor, but couldn’t find a messenger. Less than a half a quint later, he did find Hrehn talking to the duty squad leader, and the two walked back to the study. As Quaeryt closed the door, the gray-haired captain looked quizzically at Pharyl.

  “Captains … you might have some idea why I asked you to accompany me to see the patrollers. Both of you were recommended as possible candidates for positions in the Civic Patrol here.” Quaeryt turned and looked at Hrehn. “Would you be interested in becoming the senior captain if Captain Pharyl is the new chief?”

  “I might be, sir.”

  “The starting pay would be eight silvers a week for the senior captain and a gold and two silvers for the chief. Oh … and you’d be carried on the regimental rolls until you’d served your time for a stipend.”

  Hrehn looked to Pharyl. “Was this your doing?”

  “In a way,” answered Quaeryt. “Captain Pharyl was blunt with me. He said that the challenges of rebuilding the Civic Patrol would require a senior captain whom he could trust and rely upon. He indicated that he would not consider the position unless I committed to also hiring a solid senior captain.”

  Hrehn laughed, warmly. “A man’d be a fool not to accept your offer, Governor. That’s if Pharyl accepts it.”

  “Do you both accept, then?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt spent another glass with both officers, and then a quint with Skarpa informing him.

  The commander laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sir. You can be very persuasive … one way or another.”

  “I prefer honey to vinegar.”

  “Vinegar’s sweet compared to your disapproval, sir.”

  Quaeryt could only shrug, but he had to admit he hadn’t thought he was that hard. Are you? Then he thought about Wystgahl—except he still didn’t see that he’d had any real choice.

  He had no sooner returned to the study when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”

  The door edged open to reveal the duty squad leader. “Lady Vaelora sent a ranker back to inquire if it would be possible for you to be able t
o join her, sir.”

  Quaeryt managed not to frown. Then he nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment … if someone could see to my mount.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  By the time Quaeryt reached the courtyard, the squad that had accompanied him earlier in the day was waiting, along with the mare and the ranker who had carried the message from Vaelora. In less than a quint, he and the squad followed the ranker out to the avenue, and then westward along a boulevard with a center strip that held trees and bushes. He couldn’t tell whether the ash had killed the vegetation or whether it was simply slow to leaf out after the winter.

  After a ride of slightly more than a mille, the ranker turned north past a pair of large brick pillars. Quaeryt would not have called any of the dwellings along the tree-lined avenue either modest or small. All were of at least two levels, and none was less than thirty yards across the front. All were constructed of either black stone or reddish black brick, if not both, with slate roofs, and the grounds of roughly one in three were enclosed by walls over which not even a man on horseback could see.

  Even from over a hundred yards away, Quaeryt could see where a mounted ranker waited in the street in front of a pair of open gates in yet another wall. When Quaeryt reined up beside the ranker, he saw the villa through the gates—a dwelling certainly not modest in any sense, not to Quaeryt. The two-story structure extended some seventy yards from end to end, and that did not count the stable situated at the end of the drive that ran from the gates to the covered side portico and then to the stable, also of two stories. Nor did it count another structure located against the rear wall of the property, although Quaeryt could only make out part of that, shielded as it was by the bulk of the villa and the slightly overgrown trees to the right of the open space beside the stable.

  Only five hundred golds? Quaeryt took a slow deep breath and then rode through the gates and to the portico. Vaelora was waiting there with an older man in olive livery. Beyond them, in the area to the right of the stable, waited the rest of the squad, dismounted and watering their mounts from the long stone trough opposite the stable.