Princeps ip-5

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Governor Scythn detailed some of the rankers from the post to the governor’s square.”

  “I might have to do that for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t want to make that the permanent way of handling it.”

  “I can see that, sir.”

  Quaeryt could sense the approval behind the major’s quiet words. Every day you find out another place where Scythn was diverting funds or resources. Are all governors like that? What he’d discovered so far suggested that Bhayar needed a better system of governing the various provinces, and especially for keeping High Holders like Wystgahl in line, but even considering how that might be done would have to wait … for some time. And who knew if Bhayar would even consider changes?

  No sooner had Heireg left than Commander Skarpa was at the door. Quaeryt motioned him inside.

  Skarpa sat down and announced, “One of the patrols caught some young fellows last night.”

  “The way you’re saying that, I have the feeling I’m not going to like this.”

  “You won’t, sir. They’d tried to break into a house on the west side.”

  “Women?”

  Skarpa shook his head. “A factor from Solis. Well, he came from Solis, but he’s been here several years. His name is Hyleor. He and his brothers take delivery of spices from Otelyrn in Solis. Then they bring them upriver and sell them. On the return, they buy mountain herbs and send them downriver and ship them … wherever.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Some locals dragged Hyleor out of his house and were starting to beat him. The squad rode up and ran them down. One of the men tried to gut one of the ranker’s mounts. The ranker hit him with the flat of his sabre. Knocked him cold. The problem is that he took a couple of steps before he passed out, and he fell on one of those pointed iron fences. The point went through his eye. He’s dead.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” asked Quaeryt.

  “The young fellow who attacked the ranker was Versoryn. He’s the nephew of a High Holder around Ilyum. The High Holder’s name is Cransyr.”

  “What were they doing attacking a factor?”

  Skarpa shrugged. “No one seems to know.”

  “Did they catch any of the others?”

  “Just one. Versoryn’s brother. He claims that the rankers threw Versoryn onto the fence. He said his uncle knows Lord Bhayar well enough to have them all executed.”

  “I’ve never heard of High Holder Cransyr.” Quaeryt laughed sharply. “Unhappily, that doesn’t mean anything. There are far too many that I don’t know. What did you do with the brother?”

  “He’s in the brig here, and he’s not at all happy about it.”

  “Did anyone see what he did?”

  Skarpa shook his head. “Even the factor couldn’t say who attacked him-except for Versoryn. Hyleor recognized him because Versoryn had a scar across his cheek and jaw.”

  “He didn’t recognize any of the others?”

  “He says he doesn’t.”

  “What did Versoryn do? Was he a factor … or what?”

  “No one seems to know. He was well dressed. So is the brother.”

  Quaeryt was getting a very bad feeling about what had happened. A factor had been attacked, but could only recognize one conveniently dead attacker, and both the dead man and his brother were well dressed, without any known profession, and claimed a High Holder connected to Bhayar as their “uncle.” “I should talk to the brother. Do you know his name?”

  “Vhalsyr. That’s what he says, anyway. I can have the brig guards bring him here, if you’d like.”

  “That would be best, I think.” Quaeryt understood Skarpa’s quiet suggestion that governors did not visit offenders, as well as a recognition that Quaeryt had once … and a hint that he should not have.

  “Then, I’ll have the guards take care of it. They’ll wait outside.” Skarpa rose.

  A half a quint later, a thin brown-haired man, scarcely more than a youth, stood before Quaeryt, his face holding an expression close to but not quite a sneer.

  “Sit down, Vhalsyr.” Quaeryt projected total authority.

  The young man seated himself, his eyes not quite meeting Quaeryt’s. “So you’re the new governor.”

  “And you’re an offender caught as part of a group beating up an innocent factor,” replied Quaeryt, his voice level, sitting down behind the narrow table desk.

  “He wasn’t innocent. He was using those Otelyrnan spices to drug girls so he could do anything he wanted to do with them. When he was finished with them, they went to his pleasure houses.”

  “And how did you know that?”

  “I just know.”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  “Everyone knows what he’s been doing.”

  “And no one has said anything?”

  “He paid off the senior patrol captain.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Faastyl. When he heard a new governor was coming, he left. They say he went to Nacliano.”

  Based on his own relatively recent experiences in the port city, Quaeryt couldn’t say he was surprised-except a journey of that distance seemed unlikely for a patroller, even a senior patrol captain. Still, he made a mental note to have Pharyl inquire about both Hyleor and Faastyl.

  “I’m supposed to take your word for all this?” Quaeryt shook his head.

  “It’s true. If you keep me locked up, you’ll pay for it. Lord Bhayar will have your head. My uncle will see to that. He will.”

  “He might, but he might not. He might not want to see his sister widowed.”

  At that, Vhalsyr swallowed. “It’s true. Everything I say is true.”

  “It might be. But you and your brother didn’t come to me. Hyleor didn’t attack you, either. You dragged him out of his house.” Quaeryt smiled politely. “For now, you’ll remain locked up. We’ll see what we can find out.”

  “You’ll be sorry. You’ll see.”

  “I could turn you over to the Civic Patrol. We’re rebuilding it. Almost two-thirds of the patrollers have returned.”

  Vhalsyr stiffened for just a moment. “You’ll do whatever you want.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. What else can you tell me about Hyleor?”

  “He’s scum. He cheats the mountain people on what he pays for their herbs. He lies to the girls, especially the ones who are barely women. Some probably aren’t even that old. Those are the ones he likes to use the best.”

  “Everyone knew this, and no one did anything?”

  “Who would do anything? Justicer Tharyn just handled cutpurses and slam-thefts, that sort of offense. Graefsyr was in Hyleor’s wallet.”

  “And the governor?”

  “He didn’t care so long as Graefsyr paid a share of his take to him.”

  “I suppose you saw all this.”

  “Everybody knew it. It was no secret.”

  Quaeryt questioned Vhalsyr for almost another quint, but the young man could offer no proof and no other names. At that point, Quaeryt realized he needed to leave or he’d be late in getting to the Civic Patrol and announcing the appointments of Pharyl and Hhren. He had the guards take the young man back to the brig and hurried out to the courtyard where the two officers were waiting with the escort squad.

  “I’m sorry. Something came up, and it might involve the Civic Patrol.” Quaeryt mounted quickly, but didn’t say more until they were beyond the gates and riding up the avenue, Pharyl to his right, and Hrehn to his left.

  “Did Commander Skarpa mention to either of you what one of the patrols ran into last evening?”

  “They broke up a fight,” replied Pharyl, “and one of the men who started it fell on a fence spike and got killed.”

  “It’s a bit more interesting than that,” said Quaeryt dryly, as he went on to relate what he’d discovered, finishing by saying, “I’d like you two to see what you can find out from the patrollers.”

  “If they know anything, they won’t want to say it,” suggested Hreh
n.

  “Unless we point out that Lord Bhayar doesn’t like women being used that way, and that four rankers are dead with no retribution because that’s the way he and the governor feel.” Pharyl barked a laugh. “I could point out that if the governor will stand behind Pharsi women against his own rankers, it might not be the best idea to hide anything.”

  “I’ll leave it to you as to how you handle it,” replied Quaeryt. “Just let me know what you find out … or don’t.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  First Wystgahl and now the nephews of a High Holder … Quaeryt was almost afraid of what else involving High Holders might happen.

  The anomen bells had just finished ringing out seventh glass when they reached the patrol station. Quaeryt hurriedly dismounted, and the three walked quickly into the receiving hall where the patrollers waited. After taking a position in front of the receiving desk, flanked by the two officers, Quaeryt waited for a moment to allow the chamber to quiet. He didn’t have to wait more than a few instants.

  “Good morning, patrollers. I promised that it would not be long before you had a new chief and a new senior captain. Effective immediately, Chief Pharyl will be in command of the Civic Patrol.” Quaeryt gestured to Pharyl. “His senior captain will be Captain Hrehn. Both have had distinguished service as officers, most lately with the Third Tilboran Regiment in subduing the rebels in Tilbor. Both also were born and raised in the province of Montagne and have a certain familiarity with this part of Telaryn.” He paused, then added, “But not so much that they’ll tolerate certain ways of doing things that seemed to be prevalent under the previous governor and chief. I won’t say much more. I’ll leave that to them. After they finish what they wish to say, the chief, the senior captain, and the patrollers first and I will have a brief meeting.” Quaeryt stepped back and motioned to Pharyl.

  The wiry chief stepped forward and surveyed the patrollers.

  “I don’t believe much in talk just to be talking. Most of life’s problems can be handled by being where you’re supposed to be and doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Being a patroller or a soldier is no different. That’s what I expect out of each and every one of you. Be where you’re supposed to be, and do what you’re supposed to do.” Pharyl nodded to Hrehn.

  The tall captain offered a slow smile. “Chief Pharyl’s said most of what I might have said. There is one more thing. We’re here to protect the people. All the people. If any of you turn out to be more interested in filling your own wallets, the only question is how long before you get found out … and how much you lose, and that might be your neck.” Hrehn glanced back to Pharyl.

  “All patrols remain here. Patroller firsts to the meeting room,” announced the chief.

  Quaeryt led the way to the room beyond the door behind the receiving desk and opposite the studies. Once everyone was present, he began. “I have a few questions, and then I’ll be leaving so that Chief Pharyl and Captain Hrehn can brief you in more detail on what they expect.” He paused, then asked casually, his eyes lighting on Waollyt, “Who were the justicers here in Extela before the eruption?”

  “Ah … well, the governor served as high justicer. There were two justicers for Extela. The one for serious offenses, that was Graefsyr. The petty offenses … well … they came before Tharyn.”

  “Does anyone know who was a high justicer in the time before Governor Scythn?”

  After a moment Chelsyr cleared his throat. “There’d be two. One was old Fadruk, but he died sudden-like. The other was Aextyl. He stepped down when Governor Scythn was appointed. I think he still lives here somewhere. Leastwise, he did before the mountain blew.”

  “Does anyone know where Justicer Aextyl resides?”

  Quaeryt had to wait some time before Yuell finally spoke. “He used to live in the square brown brick place on the corner eight blocks west of the southwest market square. That’s if you go west on the south market avenue.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded. “I’m going to leave you in the hands of Chief Pharyl and senior Captain Hrehn.” He wanted to make some comment about obeying them, but decided that would be weaker than saying nothing at all. Instead, he turned to Pharyl and Hrehn. “Good day.”

  “Good day, Governor.”

  Quaeryt walked out of the patrol station and mounted, then nodded to the squad leader of the escort squad. As he rode away from the patrol station, he realized he still didn’t have the faintest idea what he would say at services on Solayi evening.

  36

  After leaving the Civic Patrol station, Quaeryt detoured to find the dwelling described by Yuell, only to be told by Aextyl’s granddaughter that the former justicer was visiting his other daughter in Tulagne and wasn’t expected back until the following Mardi. Once Quaeryt returned to the post, he went to work on a dispatch to Bhayar. In the end, he spent almost two glasses drafting and redrafting the report, explaining everything, including the problems with Wystgahl and his unfortunate death-something that Quaeryt still regretted and still could see no other practical solution for-and the purchase of the “new” governor’s villa … everything except for the problem with Versoryn and Hyleor, since he wanted to know more before he put anything about that situation in writing.

  Then he went over the ledgers with Jhalyt and calculated what the likely expenditures for Avryl might be. His figures showed that there should be a fair reserve, even if he had to pay out the same amounts in Mayas and Juyn, before all the midyear tariffs were collected … but then, he was spending far less than he would be once he had the provincial government replaced and restaffed, even at a lower and less extravagant level than that enjoyed by his predecessor.

  He noted when both Pharyl and Hrehn returned, and much as he wanted to ask how matters had gone, he did not. The day-to-day operations of the Civic Patrol were now their duty, and while he intended to meet with them on a weekly basis-or at their request-more frequent inquiries would merely undermine their authority and sense of responsibility.

  Abruptly he realized he hadn’t checked with Heireg about the feasibility of stopping or cutting back on the sales of flour and potatoes … and he hurried from his study to the quartermaster’s, where he waited for a third of a quint or so for the major to return.

  “Sir? What is it?”

  “The flour and potato sales … how are they coming?”

  “As you told us, we’re only selling on Meredi and Samedi. They just got back. That’s where I was, counting the totals with Jhalyt and adding the coins to the receipts’ chest. The locals are starting to try to bargain…”

  “Do you think that means they’re not so desperate … or that they’re out of coins?”

  “The squad leader says they’ve got more coins.”

  “Why don’t you have them announce on Meredi that after this week, we’ll only be selling on Samedi?”

  “The squad leader suggested that, sir.”

  “How are we coming on flour and potatoes?”

  “Gone through a lot, sir, with all that the regiment takes and what we’ve sold…” Heireg opened the ledger he had carried into the study. “Oh … and we got twenty-five barrels of good flour from young holder Wystgahl … and he left this for you.” The major handed over a sealed envelope.

  Quaeryt broke the seal, extracted the single heavy sheet of paper, and read.

  Governor Quaeryt,

  As we discussed, I have delivered the additional barrels of good flour, and will fulfill the contract my father failed to meet.

  I apologize for that difficulty.

  Below was a signature and a seal. Quaeryt didn’t quite wince. He had as much of an apology as he would ever get. At least, there was a written acknowledgment of the former High Holder’s failure.

  Quaeryt handed the note to Heireg. “You should read this.”

  Heireg did, then handed it back. “Right kind of him. He didn’t mention all the bad flour and all the extra time it took us to sift it clean.”

  “High Holders sometimes hav
e a different view of things,” Quaeryt said mildly.

  Heireg nodded.

  Quaeryt finally got back to his study at a quint past second glass.

  Vaelora returned to the post, although he didn’t realize it until she knocked on the study door several quints after third glass. At that point he put aside the ledgers and walked with her to their quarters.

  “How did your day go?” he asked as he closed the door.

  “Grelyana returned some of the furnishings to the villa … almost enough for us to live there.”

  “Almost?”

  “The master suite now has a bedstead, bedside tables, and two matching armoires … and a dressing table. They’re a little worn, but they’ll be fine with oil and polish. The main study has a desk and several chairs, as well as a table and four chairs … and there are several old-style parlor pieces that could go in either the receiving parlor or the salon. They’re in the salon at present. There’s nothing for the upstairs study, but I wouldn’t have expected that. Those pieces were likely hers. There are several worktables for the kitchen, and a small and very battered dining table and chairs for the private dining and breakfast room.”

  “That’s a beginning,” he said cautiously.

  “The beginning of a beginning. There are no linens, and we need a mattress for the bedstead. There are no kitchen utensils, no cutlery, no plates, no platters, no cauldrons, no pots, no table linens, no towels. We have no staff…”

  “Do we have anything else at all?”

  “There are platform beds in the servants’ quarters and in the stable quarters, but no mattresses.”

  Quaeryt couldn’t even imagine what it was going to cost to set up even a minimal household in the villa. More to the point, at that moment, he didn’t want to.

  “Some of that will not cost all that much,” added Vaelora. “It will take time, and I will need a steward or someone in that capacity.”

  “Do you know where to find one that we can trust?”