Accompanied by a half squad from first company, he did manage to rein up in front of the small, two-story brick building off the lower main square in Daaren just before eighth glass. There was no sign or inscription on the structure, but Quaeryt recalled it from the last visit, if only because it was the sole unidentified building around the square. That, in itself, suggested the power of the factors.
Before he dismounted Quaeryt surveyed the square, an area paved with rough cobblestones, unlike the smoother paving blocks used in Telaryn or in the ancient Naedaran roads. In the center was a square pedestal, and on the pedestal was a statue of a man, cast in bronze old enough that it held a patina of brown and green. Presumably, the man depicted was a former rex, since Kharst had not ruled long enough for a statue that old, and Quaeryt doubted that any local personage would have spent the golds for what would have been regarded as Naming. Apparently, in Bovaria, the rex was above that particular sin.
All that reminded Quaeryt that it had been almost a month since he’d had to conduct a service or deliver a homily. So far … so far, he had to say he didn’t miss it.
He eased off his mount and turned to the squad leader. “Just wait. This shouldn’t take more than a quint or so.”
“Yes, sir.”
Holding full shields, he walked up to the door and opened it, stepping inside. Once in the entry hall, he tucked his uniform visor cap into the crook in his left arm and crossed the open space to the front table.
The clerk behind the table looked up … and seeing the uniform, and most likely Quaeryt’s unnaturally white hair, nails, and dark eyes … froze.
“I’m here to see Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s here.”
The clerk swallowed, seemingly unable to respond.
“Where is he?” Quaeryt asked politely.
The clerk grasped a small bell and rang it.
After a moment the leftmost of the two doors in the wall behind the clerk opened, and Factor Jarell stepped out.
Quaeryt wasn’t surprised.
Neither, apparently, was Jarell, who smiled and asked, “What brings you here, Commander?”
“I need to go over a few matters with Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s there.” Quaeryt pointed to the closed door.
“He should be,” replied Jarell amiably, walking to the door and opening it. “Commander Quaeryt is here to see you.” He gestured.
Quaeryt smiled. “After you.”
Jarell stepped into the study, and Quaeryt followed, closing the door behind him.
The study was small, some three yards by four, and held only a writing table and the chair behind it, in which Palumyn sat, almost as if sculpted of marble, and two other armless wooden chairs. Quaeryt did not bother to seat himself.
Palumyn’s eyes fixed on Quaeryt’s midsection, or rather on Quaeryt’s visor cap and the hand and fingers that held it. After a moment he shook his head, then looked up at Quaeryt. “That explains much.”
For the first time, a puzzled expression flitted across Jarell’s face.
“I’ll explain later, Jarell. The commander understands.” Palumyn’s voice took on a resigned tone as he asked, “What brings you here?”
“Lord Bhayar and I require a listing of all the factors and large merchants in Daaren. I’m certain you have such a listing.”
“We have a listing of all those factors who belong to the council. Some merchants do, but not all do.”
“I’d appreciate a copy by the end of the day,” Quaeryt said politely. “Oh … and I’ve had my officers taking a count and notes on every large merchant and factorage in Daaren. Lord Bhayar’s clerks, I’m sure, will be comparing your listing against the tariff rolls you submit and against our census.”
Palumyn stiffened, if but for an instant. “We would expect thoroughness from a ruler as effective as Lord Bhayar.”
“And I expect the same from the noted factors of Daaren. I assume you will have no difficulty in delivering the list by fourth glass this afternoon.”
“I believe we can manage that, Commander.”
“Excellent,” replied Quaeryt.
“Is there anything else you need from us?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then Jarell will deliver the listing before fourth glass.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt inclined his head politely, then stepped back to allow Jarell to leave the study first.
After Quaeryt had closed the door behind himself, he and Jarell walked several steps farther before Quaeryt stopped.
Jarell said, “Most senior officers wouldn’t worry quite so much about matters such as tariffs.”
“They would if they were married to Lord Bhayar’s sister,” replied Quaeryt. “If they had any sense, anyway. Lord Bhayar expects much from those who serve him, and more than that from those who are close.”
The brown-haired factor smiled ruefully. “I’ve had a few inquiries made. It’s said that you are a fighting commander, and that you are effective. Most effective. From those inquiries and from what you have said, it would appear that Lord Bhayar can be a hard man.”
Quaeryt shook his head. “He makes a great effort to be effective and fair. He has been known to accept honest mistakes. Those who made them often have not remained in his service, or they have had to undertake duties that were demanding and onerous. He does not accept treachery, dishonesty, or duplicity.”
“And you?”
“I’ve been one of those who has made mistakes. I’d prefer not to make others.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps you do, Factor Jarell. It might be wise if you conveyed that understanding to other factors. It might prevent any misunderstandings. Lord Bhayar will not be as tolerant of factor excesses as Rex Kharst was. He has already shown that he will not tolerate excesses by High Holders.”
“Oh?”
“All five of the high holdings just north and east of Kephria have been leveled. Four of the High Holders have lost their lands. Three are dead. The fifth High Holder was removed and his heir installed as his successor. All the High Holders who were closest to Rex Kharst are dead. The factors of Laaryn attempted to deceive Submarshal Skarpa. Their reward was to supply the Southern Army and to support a full regiment quartered there until Lord Bhayar is convinced of their resolve not to attempt any further questionable actions. The leader of the deception fled and faces execution if he returns. His factorage and considerable wealth were seized.”
Jarell tried not to swallow. He did not succeed.
“If you wish to send someone to Laaryn to inquire, by all means do so,” Quaeryt added pleasantly. “As I’ve said, Lord Bhayar has no interest in arbitrarily punishing factors. He just doesn’t like deception … or other actions that suggest a lack of loyalty.” Quaeryt couldn’t say anything about obeying the laws of the land, because Bhayar had essentially repudiated the old privileges of the factors, and Quaeryt wasn’t aware that any new rules or laws had been issued. In fact, in his absence, he doubted that anyone had even considered the matter. Another problem for you to resolve … if he’ll listen and let you.
“Loyalty … that can be an ambiguous term, Commander,” offered Jarell.
Quaeryt faced the factor and projected a combination of power and withering scorn, so much so that Jarell stepped back several steps and paled. “Neither I nor Lord Bhayar care much for weasel-wording factors who seek to hide behind the meaning of words or who use them to shield themselves from punishment for doing what they know is wrong. You know what is right, and it is not always the same as what brings in the most golds.” Quaeryt dropped the projection and said quietly, “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Jarell inclined his head.
Just before Quaeryt turned to leave, he noticed that the clerk who had been at the front desk had fainted. You weren’t that violent.
He didn’t shake his head as he walked out of the building. Why are so many of them always trying to avoid and evade? Is that truly what makes a successful factor? Then he paused
, considering. Palumyn hadn’t tried to avoid. He’d been unhappy, and resigned, but he’d given every indication that he would do his best.
Quaeryt smiled ruefully. That suggested Jarell was another Myskyl, a lower-level schemer trying to get to the top by twisting everything to his advantage. And Myskyl is another problem you’ll have to face when you return to Variana.
When he rode into the side courtyard at the Grande Laar Inn, Quaeryt reined up and saw Undercaptain Ghaelyn. “Undercaptain! Do you know if the imager undercaptains have returned?”
“No, sir. They haven’t.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt dismounted and led his mount to the waiting stable boy.
He needed to write out all the problems he faced—especially a set of rules to make things clear for the Bovarian factors and merchants, because it was all too obvious that the way they conducted business was not what was necessary for better trade between the different lands Bhayar now ruled.
Quaeryt took a deep breath as he walked toward the inn door.
11
In the end, Quaeryt, Vaelora, and their forces did not leave Daaren until Vendrei morning, partly because obtaining supplies took longer than Quaeryt had anticipated and partly because both Khaern and Calkoran felt that the mounts needed more rest. The additional day did give Quaeryt some time to start drafting what he thought of as a code for factors and trade. He had no illusions that what he wrote would be approved by Bhayar without change, but with three different sets of laws governing trade and commerce, Quaeryt felt that Bhayar would want some uniform code … and if Bhayar changed it, even for what Quaeryt might think was for the worse, one code was better than three—or four, if the High Councilors of Khel ever came to their senses and agreed to some sort of terms with Bhayar.
For the first eleven milles north on the east side of the Phraan River, all the way to the small town of Faantyl, the road was slightly better than it had been south of Daaren. In Faantyl, surprisingly, every building seemed to have been built of the pale yellow brick that Quaeryt had first observed in Daaren, except in Daaren, not every structure had been built of it. Once in the town proper of Faantyl, Quaeryt reined up and asked one of the local crofters, seated on his wagon seat, on the west side of the churned dirt open space that passed for a square, about the road to the north.
“Well … it’s not as bad as it might be this time of year, after the swampy part a mille or so north.”
“What about the roads on the west side of the river?”
The grizzled crofter shook his head. “Aren’t none to speak of.”
“How bad is the swampy part?”
“Right now, I wouldn’t be going there. It’s passable enough come summer.”
“All the way to Eluthyn?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. Never been farther north than Eelan, and not there recently.”
“How far is Eelan?”
“Mayhap twenty milles, could be a shade more.”
“Do people travel here from farther north?”
“In the summer, they do. Not now, most years.”
Quaeryt asked more questions, but it was clear that the man had told him what he knew. And others around the square couldn’t add much.
“We might as well push on,” he decided. And we’ll likely need imaging in more than a few places.
Less than two milles north of Faantyl, the outriders came hurrying back to Quaeryt and Zhelan.
“Sirs…”
“There’s an impassable swampy stretch of road?” asked Quaeryt.
“Pretty much, sir.”
“What does the road look like beyond the swampy place?” asked Quaeryt.
“Can’t tell, sir.”
“Is there a track that leads around it?”
“There’s a narrow path, but Cloryt’s mount’s foreleg sunk so deep we had to use ropes to pull him clear.”
“We’ll have to see what the imagers can do, then.” Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Imager undercaptains! Forward!” Then he looked at Vaelora. “The road repairs begin. I hope we don’t have to rebuild it all the way to Eelan.”
“If you do, that will make life better for the people.”
“And take days…” he replied dryly, turning to Zhelan and saying, “Have the men take a break, and pass the word back to Calkoran and Khaern. Water the mounts, and then move ahead to join us. But take your time.”
With the four imager undercaptains and Elsior, Quaeryt rode forward a good quarter mille along the section of the road that rose very gradually, perhaps five yards over the distance. He reined up where the outriders waited on the gentle crest just south of an area that looked like a gigantic mud puddle, stretching several hundred yards to the north and east and some thirty to the west. His first inclination was to have one of the imagers just remove the sloppy mess, but he saw that the road was actually in a depression with higher ground to each side, and that ground was a good two yards higher. Still, that gave him an idea, and he guided his mount toward the river, where he looked over the higher ground between the muddy mess and the slope down to the Phraan. Then he rode back.
“Horan … do you see where that bare bush is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you think you could image out a channel two yards wide from the road through the higher ground?”
“So that the slop will flow toward the river?”
“That’s the idea. Even if it doesn’t, that will allow drainage in the future so that this mess doesn’t happen again.”
Horan concentrated, and in instants there was a channel from the west side of where the road might once have been through the higher ground to the slope leading down to the river, a distance of about fifty yards.
“There you are, sir.” Horan blotted his forehead.
“Let’s wait and see how much drains away.”
While the water on top of the mud slowly flowed through the channel, after a quint had passed it was clear that the mud below the surface water wasn’t moving. Not anytime soon, Quaeryt realized.
“Lhandor, image away a few yards of the mud, starting there.” Quaeryt pointed several yards north of the slightly higher and drier ground where he had reined up.
“Yes, sir.”
After just a few efforts by Lhandor and Khalis, and even a smaller amount being removed by Elsior, Quaeryt called a halt when he saw, at the bottom of the excavated area, the remnant of what appeared to be a stone wall.
“Take away a bit to the north,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Khalis did so, revealing more mortared stone.
With the additional removal, Quaeryt could see that at some time in the past, someone had built a stone causeway through the swampy ground, and that the causeway had included two culverts to drain water away.
In the end, some two glasses later, a stone roadway, with three arched culverts beneath and smaller channels feeding into the larger one that Horan had created, stretched almost four hundred yards through what had been a swampy depression.
Once the last traces of frost from the imaging had faded, they resumed their journey.
“If the people here had just maintained what was built here in the first place, they wouldn’t have had that problem,” observed Vaelora.
“The local smallholders don’t have the ability to do that, not without neglecting their own lands. There aren’t any High Holders near, and the factors in Faantyl and Eelan don’t want to spend the silvers or golds because they don’t see any immediate coins from repairing the road. That’s the problem with leaving everything in the hands of the factors. If it doesn’t benefit them directly and immediately, most of them won’t do things that help others, especially here in Bovaria, it appears.”
Two milles north of the swampy area and the newly rebuilt causeway, Vaelora suddenly pointed to a low rise on which there were several scattered stone and brick walls. The brick was, once more, pale yellow. “Over there, on the hillside.”
Just ahead, also on the left, was a double line of tr
ees, although there were many gaps in the trees that had once flanked a drive leading to the buildings.
“Most likely, the former High Holder who once lived there built the causeway,” suggested Quaeryt.
“This isn’t that narrow a road. Or it wasn’t. Look at how wide the shoulders are.”
Quaeryt had noticed that earlier. “You’re thinking that this was once the main way from Varian to Daaren before the Great Canal was built?”
“It was a more important road then.”
“That makes sense. The route is shorter.” It also proved to Quaeryt how much Kharst and his sire had neglected the roads of Bovaria.
For the rest of the morning and the first three glasses of the afternoon, the road remained passable, although in two cases, Quaeryt had the imagers replace small timber bridges with stone spans, but those were across small creeks.
Just after fourth glass, up ahead, he saw an oblong stone, upright, but half buried in turf that threatened to engulf it. When they rode closer, he could see that the millestone held letters carved into the stone that time and weather had softened until they were barely readable: EELAN—4 M.
“Have you ever heard or read of the place?” asked Vaelora.
“Except as a name on a map? No.”
They rode another two milles. Then the road curved away from the river, running due east for a good half mille before turning back north again. Quaeryt also noticed that the Phraan River itself had bent more to the west, and he wondered why the road hadn’t at least gone straight. After another half mille, he saw why. Off the road to the left was a high holding, not a huge one, but definitely a high holding with a large residence constructed out of pale yellow brick and gray stone situated on a low rise that presumably overlooked the river, although Quaeryt couldn’t see the river from the road. Ahead was a set of gates, simple black iron anchored in two large yellow brick and gray stone pillars, with a low pale yellow brick wall running some fifty yards back from the gates on each side.
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