“We will see.” Quaeryt smiled politely. “Will you consider advising me through a few hearings after I read this treatise?”
“I will consider it. I make no promises.”
“On another subject … what do you know about a factor named Hyleor?”
“Ah … Hyleor Cylonsyn. He was a supporter of Governor Scythn. He also owned and still does, I believe, a share of at least one pleasure house, if not more. I have not had the dubious pleasure of meeting him and suspect I am the better for that.”
“Are there any other factors whose acquaintance might be, as you put it, a dubious pleasure?”
“In recent years, there have been more than a few. Aerambyr, Thaltyn … and, of course, Lysienk and Pulam.”
“Why should I look out for from them?”
“The usual … overcharges, delays in goods or substandard goods, and, occasionally, accidents to retainers or relatives. Your predecessor had a tendency to turn the other way, with his hand out, I suspect.”
Quaeryt managed not to wince a second time. “I see. What do you know about a patroller first by the name of Jaramyr?”
Aextyl shook his head.
“What do you know about a Captain Faastyl?”
“Only that you would be best not to have him in the Civic Patrol, although I have heard he has left Extela.”
“Are there any other factors or High Holders with whom I should be especially cautious?”
“High Holder Cransyr is known to be especially partisan, as is Suletar. For the factors, besides Hyleor, it might be wise to handle several others with care, Assoul and Dyetryn in particular. Factoria Grelyana can be vicious if she believes her interests are infringed, as can Lysienk.”
“Any others?”
“All of them will be your friend to your face and whatever is necessary to advance their interests when your back is turned or your eyes are elsewhere.”
Justicer Aextyl definitely had a skeptical, and probably realistic, view of people, reflected Quaeryt. “I suspect that is true of every governor.”
“Indeed.” Aextyl coughed, then lifted a large handkerchief to stifle the paroxysm that followed.
Quaeryt waited until the coughing spasms ceased before standing. “I will not take more of your time, but I do appreciate your advice and the loan of the law treatise.”
“My pleasure, Governor. I trust it will do more good in your hands than on the bookshelf here.”
Quaeryt inclined his head. “Thank you.”
Then he turned and walked to the door, opening it, and started toward the entry hall.
The narrow-faced daughter met him there. “Governor … I hope you didn’t press him. He’s not well. Being a justicer took years off his life.”
“I asked if he would sit beside me for the first few hearings and advise me. He said he would think about it-and only if I read this treatise.”
Her eyes went from the thin book Quaeryt carried to the scholar’s browns. “You’re going to read it, aren’t you?” Her tone was almost despairing.
“He made it rather clear that whether or not he decided to advise me, I needed to read it to have any chance of following the proper procedures. I’m taking his advice.”
“Would that others had, sir.” Gently as the words were spoken, bitterness suffused them.
“Sometimes, good men are treated ill by the times and their peers, but I do greatly appreciate his counsel and advice … and your courtesy in allowing me to see him.” Quaeryt inclined his head, then left.
As he rode away, he considered what Aextyl had said about Grelyana … and that concerned him, especially given how they had pressed the factoria in dealings over the villa.
Upon his return to the post, Quaeryt checked to see if he had received any dispatches, but there were none, and he made his way to his study. There he wrote down the names of the factors mentioned as difficult by Aextyl. Once Pharyl was a bit more settled in as chief, Quaeryt wanted to have the chief make a few inquiries about each of them.
Almost a glass later, as he finished reviewing the master ledger showing expenditures, the duty ranker knocked on the door of the small study. “There’s a fellow here to see you, sir. He claims he was a justicer, gave his name as Tharyn Ashsyn.”
“I’ll see him.”
A few moments later the door opened, and a slender man stepped inside, wearing a tailored gray tunic and matching trousers. His polished boots were gray, and he wore a large gold ring on his right hand. He inclined his head. “Governor.”
“What can I do for you?” asked Quaeryt, gesturing to the pair of chairs before the desk.
The man sat down and smiled, revealing slightly yellow teeth. “I heard that you’re looking for justicers, Governor. I might be able to help you out.”
“In what way?” asked Quaeryt politely.
“Being that I was low justicer for Extela under Governor Scythn, I bring some experience that might be helpful to you.”
“I’ve heard your name, but not much more.” Quaeryt smiled. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“I grew up west of here in a little place called Wesron. My da was a smallholder, and I was the youngest. So when I was old enough I came to Extela and became a patroller. Worked my way up to patroller first.” Tharyn shrugged. “That’s just the way it happened.”
“What have you been doing lately … since the eruption?”
“Waiting to see what happened. I was thinking about moving to Solis, but I heard you might need a justicer or two.” Tharyn smiled broadly. “If you know what I mean.”
“When did you become a justicer?”
“I was a patroller first for Chief Besant. That was under Governor Thailwyt. I told Governor Scythn that he needed someone who understood patrolling for the low justicer position. He thought about what I said, and then he appointed me.”
Quaeryt doubted it had been anywhere that direct or simple. “From a justicer’s point of view, how do you think the Civic Patrol was doing under the last chief?”
“The chief really kept ’em in line. Have to say that.”
“I’d heard that the size of the patrol decreased some.”
“No … it was always the same size, like around six patrols … leastwise while I was a patroller.”
That was interesting, if true, thought Quaeryt, and it suggested that the previous chief hadn’t changed matters so much as continued past practices. “Where did most offenses happen? In what part of Extela?”
“Oh … the southeast … all those Pharsis … always a problem…”
Quaeryt continued to ask questions for another quint before he finally said, “Thank you for coming in. I haven’t made any decisions yet, and it was good to have the benefit of your experience.”
“You’re kind to see me, Governor. I would make a good head justicer. Knowing what I know, if you know what I mean.”
“I do indeed.” Quaeryt stood. “I do.” And I don’t like at all what I know.
Once the door closed, he sat down with a long deep breath.
Tharyn hadn’t exactly impressed Quaeryt. And he wants to be the head justicer?
The encounter reminded Quaeryt that he still had to do something about the case involving Hyleor, and that meant he had to talk to the factor. Another thing to take care of on Jeudi.
After a moment he looked down at the thin maroon-bound volume on the desk. Among other things, you have some reading to do.
39
With Vaelora occupied in supervising repairs and cleaning of the governor’s residence, as well as trying to locate kitchen equipment, pots, pans, and sundry other necessities for turning the villa into a functioning residence, Quaeryt left the post early on Jeudi to visit Hyleor. The only problem was that the spice factor had been traveling in the mountains to the north to purchase early spring herbs-or so his wife claimed-and was not expected to return until sometime late that afternoon or evening.
Quaeryt then rode to see how the repairs were coming on the east bri
dge and was gratified to see that the first timbers were being set in place. He was less gratified to learn from Major Dhaeryn that the cost of the timbers and planks would exceed 450 golds, and that more stonework would be necessary on the west end of the bridge before the last supporting timbers could be laid and braced.
On his return ride to the post, he swung by the patrol station, although he did not stop. From the outside, it looked complete, but he couldn’t tell if the cells had been finished.
Two quints past the first glass of the afternoon, the duty squad leader hurried into Quaeryt’s study to deliver a dispatch from Bhayar. As soon as the man left, Quaeryt opened the missive and began to read. After all the felicitations and appreciation of what Quaeryt had done so far there was just one other paragraph, stark in its simplicity.
More Bovarian troops continue to move toward Ferravyl. Regardless of any difficulties you may have, Third Regiment is to depart Extela no later than Lundi, the sixteenth of Mayas, and to move with deliberate speed to Ferravyl. Because this may change at any time, Third Regiment should be prepared to depart any day after the fifteenth of Avryl.
The seal and signature were those of Bhayar.
When Quaeryt went to find Skarpa, who had effectively taken over the post commander’s study, he waited until Skarpa had finished with Major Chaestyn before stepping into the study and closing the door.
“That dispatch that just came in? Bad news?”
Quaeryt handed the single sheet to the commander.
Skarpa read through the dispatch and handed it back before speaking. “It looks like we’ll be fighting by midsummer, if not sooner.”
“I’d wager on sooner. I just hope that the engineers will finish the bridge repairs in the next week or so. I am glad that the aqueduct is done.”
“Is there anything else urgent you need from the regiment?”
“Besides replacements for fifty patrollers, trustworthy justicers, more clerks, tariff collectors…” Quaeryt shook his head. “So much was buried in lava and ash and burned that I don’t really even know what else I need. I can’t trust most of those who might know, and the ones I can trust are so busy that they can’t do much more.” And your wife is trying to put together a governor’s residence single-handedly as well.
“You seem to be managing it so far, sir.”
“Only with the help of the regiment. We need more patrollers, and soon.”
“Pharyl and Hrehn can take care of that.”
“If they have time.”
“There are bound to be young men who need work. With Pharyl and Hrehn, all you need is some coin, and I imagine you have enough of that. Beginning patrollers can’t cost you much more than trooper recruits.”
After talking more with Skarpa, Quaeryt felt slightly less overwhelmed and returned to his study to try to think through what else he needed quickly from the regiment. Slightly before second glass, Pharyl appeared at his door, slipping into one of the chairs before the desk.
“How are things coming?” asked Quaeryt.
“The cells are finished, and three of them already are in use. We’re feeding them bread and cheese and watered ale.”
Quaeryt hadn’t even thought about feeding arrangements, or dealing with prisoners, but there was no help for that, even if he still weren’t certain what he would do about justicers. He feared that he’d have to act as one, and after having read little more than a third of Ekyrd Huelsyn’s treatise On Law and Justicing, he was already painfully aware of too many things in law about which he knew nothing. “What are the offenses?”
“Two thefts and one assault. That’s one reason why I wanted to talk to you. And there’s another. An advocate for that young fellow you’ve got locked up here appeared. He wanted to know when Vhalsyr’s hearing is scheduled. I said I’d have to check with you. He’ll be back to see me tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll have to do that as soon as possible. His uncle is a well-connected High Holder. He’s a cousin of Lord Bhayar. And since we have to deal with Vhalsyr … we might as well do them all. How long will it take you and the engineers to set up the large meeting room as a justicing hall?”
“We only need something that will serve as a justicer’s desk. By Lundi, certainly.”
“Set up the hearings starting at eighth glass on Lundi morning. I’ll just have to act as justicer. I just met a while ago with the former low justicer.”
“I gather he was as bad as the former chief?”
“How do you compare rotten apples?” asked Quaeryt dryly. “How is Hrehn handling the patrollers?”
“Very well. They need a big, strong, tough, and smart captain. No one’s about to question him unless it’s serious, and that’s the way it should be.”
“And you?”
“We need more patrollers.”
“We need them soon. Lord Bhayar just sent a dispatch saying that Third Regiment will have to leave no later than mid-Mayas, and possibly in as little as ten days … if he sends orders. From the way he describes what the Bovarians are doing, it’s going to be sooner than Mayas. Can you start looking for recruits?”
“I already have. Regular patrollers, patrollers second, that is, they start at a silver a week. I’d like to start recruits at five coppers until they complete a month’s training, then pay them eight coppers a week for two months probation. That way, the existing patrollers don’t see the new men as immediately being paid the same.”
“You have my approval. Anything else?”
“No other problems. I did find out a few things you might find interesting. One reason why there were more offenses in the southeast quarter of the city was that the entire quarter was handled by one patrol. The northwest quarter-most of that’s now under ash and lava-had two patrols assigned, and the northeast and southwest had three patrols between them.”
That didn’t surprise Quaeryt either. “So you’ll just put two patrols in each of the remaining quarters?”
“That’s my plan.”
“It’s a good one.”
“There are a few other things … The pleasure houses…”
“The old high justicer told me that Hyleor owned part of them. What did you find out?”
“Faastyl did, like you thought. So did Scythn and Graefsyr, but they all sold out to Hyleor, even before the eruption, according to a couple of the older patrollers. They didn’t put it quite that way, but it was clear enough.” Pharyl paused. “Wasn’t Graefsyr the one who was the head justicer?”
“He was. I didn’t know that, but Vhalsyr-he’s the nephew of High Holder Cransyr, the one the troop patrol picked up-he claims that Hyleor was feeding young girls Otelyrnan drugs and then sending them to the pleasure houses.”
“Getting them to smoke elveweed, most likely.”
“Are the pleasure houses still open?”
“They never closed. They never do. Except for the fancy one in the northwest quarter. It was just two blocks from the governor’s square.”
“Then there’s likely to be a new one somewhere in the west part of the city before long … if it’s not there already.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for it.”
“What else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” asked Pharyl sardonically.
Quaeryt laughed, briefly, then said, “There is one more thing.” He handed a list to the chief, a copy of the one he’d jotted down after meeting with Aextyl. “These are factors here in Extela about whom the former high justicer, possibly the last honest one, had some concerns. As you can find out from the patrollers and others, anything you can learn might be helpful.”
“Might take a while.”
“That’s why you’re getting it now.”
Pharyl nodded.
As soon as the chief left, Quaeryt hurried out to round up an escort to ride out to Hyleor’s dwelling once more-since the trader apparently had no other place of business. He hoped the factor would be there, because he really didn’t want to ride out on Samedi … although he would if he
had to.
Two men were unloading a small high-wheeled wagon, carrying sacks into a shed at the rear of the dwelling, when Quaeryt approached the house, with a front garden surrounded by a waist-high brick wall topped with ironwork spikes on every post. The ends of the spikes would have been chest-high on Quaeryt. He frowned. For a tall man to fall on one was not impossible … but it was unlikely. Still, all the reports confirmed that Versoryn had attacked the trooper with a long knife and tried to gut the man’s mount. After a moment, Quaeryt rode down the narrow rutted drive at the side, where he reined up and dismounted, handing the mare’s reins to the ranker who had accompanied him.
The burly man, several digits taller than Quaeryt and broader as well, with heavy-lidded eyes, a fleshy face, and shiny black hair-presumably Hyleor himself-turned and waited.
“Trader Hyleor?”
“Who else?” His eyes flicked from Quaeryt to the ranker, and then to the squad of troopers drawn up in the street at the end of the drive. After a moment he studied Quaeryt. “A visit from the governor himself. What a surprise.” The sardonic tone to his words was as heavy as the man himself.
“I came by earlier, but I understand you were traveling.”
“You waited long enough. I had business.”
“I’m sure you did. So did I.”
Hyleor waited, as if challenging Quaeryt to speak.
Quaeryt didn’t mind, but he did let the silence draw out for a bit. “My troopers reported that a gang of men tried to attack you.”
“Tried? They dragged me away from the wagon and into the street. They laid whips on me. If that was just trying, I’d not want to know what succeeding might be.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“I’d never seen any one of them before that.”
“Then why do you suppose they attacked you?”
“Who knows?” Hyleor’s snort was accompanied by an expression close to a sneer. “Rumors, I’d guess. Everyone thinks spice and herb traders trade in elveweed and curamyn … or worse. We’re the last ones who do that.”
“The last ones?”
“Everyone thinks we do. We get stopped and searched by the governors’ men-or Lord Bhayar’s-in every province. They never find anything. That’s because we know we’ll get searched, and it’s not worth the danger.”
Princeps ip-5 Page 31
