Rex Regis

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “The lady and the commander,” offered Lenglan in a warm and welcoming tone, after a bow. “I presume, Lady, that you must be a relation to Lord Bhayar, his sister, perhaps, since it is known that his wife remains as regent of Telaryn.”

  That suggested to Quaeryt that Lenglan’s sire, and perhaps Lenglan himself, had indeed possessed a close tie to the late Rex Kharst.

  “His youngest sister,” returned Vaelora.

  “And returning from Khel as his envoy to the High Council,” added Quaeryt.

  “Ah hah … most interesting, and I would love to hear more. If you would join me in the salon. I would wish to provide my own lady, but I cannot, for I have not yet wed. I saw little purpose in that while my father was yet a strong and vigorous man.” He gestured toward the doors, then turned to lead them inside.

  Quaeryt made certain his shields covered Vaelora, then nodded to her. They followed, matching Lenglan’s measured pace. Inside the doors was a large, but not overlarge, circular receiving hall with a lightly domed ceiling finished in smooth white plaster. The lower walls, up to the simple goldenwood crown molding that separated them from the ceiling, were covered in pale goldenwood paneling set off by goldenwood faux columns. The floor was composed of alternating squares of polished white and gray marble. There was a small closed door on each side of the hall and a large archway at the end of the hall. Beyond the arch was a long corridor that appeared to stretch the length of the house in each direction, and directly opposite the archway was another set of open double doors, leading into a long and narrow room with wide windows at the end, clearly overlooking a formal garden, with a less formal garden set out on the slope leading down to the river and an elaborate boathouse flanked by two piers.

  In the space short of the windows, the young holder, certainly not any older than Vaelora, stopped and turned. “Whatever seating arrangements you prefer.”

  “Why don’t you sit there,” suggested Quaeryt, pointing to the chair at a right angle to the gray velvet couch.

  Lenglan stood by the chair, but did not seat himself until Vaelora settled into the far end of the couch. Quaeryt took the other chair, the one facing the holder, then removed his visor cap and set it on the low corner table.

  Neither Lenglan’s eyes nor his expression changed as he looked at Quaeryt, although there was the faintest hint of a nod.

  “I would offer refreshments, and will if you wish, but I doubt that such was the primary purpose of your call. Might I ask the purpose of your visit?”

  “My brother has suggested that, in the course of our travels, we visit the more notable High Holders as we can,” said Vaelora. “We were fortunate enough to arrive in Semlem early enough to see you.”

  “Notable? I fear not. What have I done, save inherit the holding?”

  “The holding is considered to be quite notable, according to those up and down this part of the Phraan River,” said Quaeryt mildly. “You have silver mines, and it would appear that you also quarry stone.”

  “The copper mines produce more, but there are costs that are not inconsiderable.”

  “You reduce the ore and ship it north, but refine the silver here?”

  “That is so.”

  “What do you do with the flatboats once they return here?” asked Vaelora.

  Lenglan smiled. “We sell them to High Holder Nephyl at a slight profit.”

  “And he uses them to ship his bricks farther downriver.”

  “I presume so.”

  “Most efficient,” said Quaeryt, “in addition to being notable.”

  “Notable … a rather interesting word.”

  “Apparently, your sire had quite a reputation.”

  “Am I to be judged for what he did? Are the acts of the father the acts of the son?”

  “Not unless the son does as his sire did,” replied Quaeryt. “Your father paid for his close support of a reckless and poor ruler. You will not be held responsible for his support … so long as you pledge allegiance to Lord Bhayar, who has already proven both more successful and responsible … and so long as your conduct meets the standards that he has set for High Holders. At present, there is no evidence that you have failed in either allegiance or in conduct. Lord Bhayar would prefer that you do not fail.”

  “Oh? How sure of that can one be?”

  Vaelora smiled, then said sweetly, “It is so tiresome to remove High Holders and replace them. The commander has removed five since the beginning of the year, and destroyed their holds, but allowed one heir to retain the lands and rebuild. He has also found a number of other holders well suited to retaining their lands.”

  “How many, pray tell?”

  “Something like a half score are hale and well … of those we have visited,” replied Quaeryt. That was likely technically a slight exaggeration, because they had not visited some High Holders whose reputations had seemed adequate. “And only those High Holders in Antiago, Shahibs they call themselves, who fought and died in battle were removed, only to be replaced by their heirs. So far, anyway. But Quaeryt doubted that Skarpa would remove anyone without extreme cause.

  Lenglan frowned. “Antiago? What might Antiago have to do…”

  “Our pardon,” said Vaelora quickly, before Quaeryt could reply. “You have not heard? Antiago is now under the rule of Lord Bhayar. The commander and Submarshal Skarpa destroyed the Autarch and his forces. The commander and I are returning to Variana to provide details to my brother.”

  Lenglan looked hard at Quaeryt. “Might you be the commander said to have destroyed the forces of Rex Kharst?”

  “He is,” replied Vaelora. “Twice. At Ferravyl and at Variana.”

  “And you are here talking to me … a small High Holder along a modest river in the hinterlands of Bovaria?”

  “It is the quickest way back to Variana. It has also allowed us to repair bridges and roads as part of an effort to restore the roads of Bovaria. My imagers do not just destroy. They also build.”

  For a long moment the young High Holder sat immobile. Finally, he said, “I must thank you for your forbearance.” A rueful smile crossed his face, one that Quaeryt trusted not at all. “What else might you require of me, other than pledging allegiance … and respectable conduct.”

  “In time, if you have not done so already, Lord Bhayar will require a onetime token tariff of one hundred golds for this year. He knows you or your sire already paid the annual tariff, but he is incurring significant costs in his efforts to rebuild Bovaria and deal with many aspects of the land that have been neglected.”

  “I will pay you now…”

  Quaeryt shook his head. “You will discover who to pay and when. We thought you should know.” He glanced to Vaelora.

  She gave the briefest and smallest of nods.

  Quaeryt rose, extending a hand to Vaelora.

  “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Lenglan of Norwal,” she said. “I trust we will hear nothing but good of you in the months and years to come.”

  Lenglan rose quickly. “I will do my best to meet those expectations. Let me see you off properly.” He turned and moved toward the grand entryway.

  As they followed him, Quaeryt eased forward and said in a low voice to the young holder, “There is one other thing. I think Lord Bhayar would be very disappointed if any more young women disappeared from the streets of Semlem. I know Lady Vaelora and I would be, and I’d very much not wish to make a special trip here to deal with the situation. I’ll also be letting it be known that such is our feeling to those in certain positions in town.” Quaeryt smiled as warmly as he could. “I just thought you’d appreciate knowing that.”

  Lenglan flushed slightly and looked at Quaeryt as if to say something.

  Quaeryt projected power and certainty.

  The young High Holder paled, but said in a low voice, “I do appreciate your kindness in letting me know quietly. There will be no more instances of such, overexaggerated as such reports doubtless were.”

  “I’m glad to hear th
at such rumors were exaggerations, but I did wish you to know, as we have informed other High Holders that Lord Bhayar expects a far higher standard of conduct and behavior from all his High Holders, both here, in Antiago, and in Telaryn. He crushed those in Tilbor and those in southern Bovaria who failed to understand that.”

  “Why do you tell me this, then?”

  “He also believes in giving High Holders an opportunity to show their allegiance and worthiness.” After a moment Quaeryt added, “Once.”

  Lenglan nodded. “I believe I understand.”

  “I believe you do.”

  The young holder, clearly uneasy, stepped aside, but walked beside Quaeryt and Vaelora to the portico steps, then watched as they mounted and rode back down the wide stone-paved drive.

  Once they were on the river road back to Semlem, the sun hanging just over the trees on the west side of the Phraan River, Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “What do you think?”

  “He’s a spoiled brat, but he’s a very intelligent spoiled brat. You won’t have changed the way he feels, but there won’t be any trouble with his tariffs or with the local women.”

  “He’ll seek out women elsewhere?”

  “I think not. I suspect he’ll have an inordinate amount of serving maids who are paid rather better than the local wages. Some may leave his service, but they will leave alive and in health. He likes being High Holder far more than he likes any other personal pleasure, and you frightened him to his core.”

  “But…?”

  “It might not hurt to send him a missive every so often, inquiring about his health.”

  Quaeryt nodded, knowing that his problems in dealing with High Holders and others of position were only beginning … especially if he continued to be successful. He reminded himself that he needed to write a short missive to High Holder Patarak, regretting that the nature of their travel to Variana made a visit impossible, but trusting that Patarak’s allegiance to Lord Bhayar remained firm.

  14

  Interestingly enough, but not completely surprising to Quaeryt, was the condition of the road heading north out of Semlem. While still of clay, the surface was packed and smooth, as well as wide enough that the actual surface used by riders and wagons stretched from one original shoulder to the other, all signs that the metals mined east of the mining town continued to be valued and that they traveled north—most likely to the Great Canal and then eastward to Variana.

  He was also pleased that he and Vaelora had received a nearly immediate, if brief, but pleasant reply to their missive to Patarak. The older High Holder had written that he appreciated their courtesy and their interest in High Holders, even in less frequented parts of Bovaria, and that he looked forward to the return of order across Bovaria and that the presence of Lord Bhayar’s sister boded well for all those with that hope.

  “I don’t think he was too pleased with Kharst,” Quaeryt had observed. “Or he wants us to think he wasn’t.”

  “That could be, but the innkeeper did say that he’d been very quiet for the last few years. His riding accident might have provided an excuse not to travel to Variana or to see Kharst.”

  “That’s possible.” But anything’s possible the way Kharst ruled.

  Quaeryt had thought over the missive more than once as they had ridden northward over the next four days, especially after visiting, if briefly, two other High Holders who had been all too eager to profess their allegiance to Bhayar. But then, the nearer they came to the Great Canal and Variana, the more likely it was that information about Bhayar’s victories had reached the various high holdings.

  Although it was not yet midspring, by midday on Vendrei Quaeryt had long since shed his uniform riding jacket. He was also looking impatiently at the scattered cots and holdings, thinking that there should be signs that they were approaching Eluthyn. His impatience might have been partly because, in covering the last hundred milles, they had accomplished more road and bridge repairs, but mainly to strengthen existing bridges and causeways, since the road north of Semlem remained wide and in far better repair than the roads north of Daaren.

  Roughly a glass before, they had seen a stone indicating that they had ten milles to go, yet Quaeryt saw no sign of the canal town or the canal.

  “You’re getting impatient, aren’t you?” observed Vaelora.

  “I suppose so.”

  “We still have nearly a week of travel left, eight or nine days, if the weather’s bad. I worry that Bhayar’s gotten rumors about what happened, and Myskyl and Deucalon are distorting them.”

  “With the state of roads in Bovaria, how is he going to find out? The only way he could get word is if someone sent a dispatch rider from Kephria … and there’s no one who could. Even if he did get word, he wouldn’t know how accurate it would be.”

  Once more, Quaeryt was reminded of just how long it took for messages to travel—and travel time had been bad enough just across Telaryn.

  “You have that look,” said Vaelora.

  “I was thinking about how long it takes even for rulers to find things out.”

  “You could have sent a dispatch rider,” she pointed out.

  “That would have been worse. Imagine what problems we’d face if Myskyl and Deucalon had two weeks or more to plant ideas without us there.” Quaeryt shook his head. “Either way, it’s a problem. That’s why Bhayar needs good roads and good regional governors. And dispatch stations.” And in Bovaria, at the moment, he has none of those.

  Quaeryt glanced to his left, down at the river, almost pondlike in its calm. It was definitely narrower, although that had occurred so gradually that Quaeryt hadn’t really noticed before. What called his attention to it was that, in places, there were poles planted to show the channel for the flatboats, and there wasn’t that much open water between the poles and the shore.

  Ahead, above the trees, he saw the roofs of several buildings, although they looked to be to the west of the river. Then he nodded, recalling that most of Eluthyn actually lay to the west of where the canal and the river crossed, or rather where the river actually ran under the Great Canal through a culvert. The canal locks were just east of there.

  “Well … finally,” he said cheerfully. “There’s Eluthyn.”

  “Where else would you expect it to be,” replied Vaelora dryly.

  Quaeryt thought he heard a smothered guffaw from one of the undercaptains who rode behind them. He grinned and replied, “For all I know, it could have vanished. But it does have a decent inn, I hear, although … there would have been advantages to having Rex Kharst’s canal boat.”

  “Advantages for whom, dearest?” murmured Vaelora.

  Quaeryt decided to refrain from commenting, at least until they were alone in the inn at Eluthyn.

  15

  Almost exactly a week later, on a sunny midafternoon, as Quaeryt and Vaelora rode along the last mille or so of the towpath of the Great Canal, Quaeryt gestured toward the northeast and the hold house of the late High Holder Paitrak. “It’s hard to believe that it was almost two seasons ago since we were there.”

  “I don’t find that hard to believe at all. I’m most certain that we’ll find brother dear there.” She pointed to the southeast where, glimmering white in the sun, was Chateau Regis, which had been Rex Kharst’s and which Quaeryt’s imagers had rebuilt and restructured almost two seasons ago.

  “By now, Bhayar should have received word that we’re almost in Variana.” Unless Deucalon delayed them. Although Quaeryt had sent out dispatch riders when they had set out that morning, he was well aware that did not assure that their messages reached Bhayar in a timely fashion.

  “So should Deucalon, and Myskyl, if he’s around.”

  “Myskyl might not be.”

  Quaeryt wasn’t certain whether it would be better if Myskyl was near Bhayar or distantly removed. In either case, the submarshal was likely to cause difficulties. You can’t do anything about that now. “I still say that Kharst’s canal boat would have been welcome here,�
�� Quaeryt suggested, “not that it matters now, this close to Variana.”

  “You weren’t thinking about sleep, dearest…”

  “But I was,” he half protested, with a grin.

  “Just about sleep,” Vaelora amended her words.

  Less than a quint later, a squad of riders wearing the green uniforms of Telaryn approached under Bhayar’s personal banner. The officer leading them was a major Quaeryt recognized by face, but not by name.

  “Lady Vaelora! Commander! Lord Bhayar is most gratified that you have returned hale and successful. He awaits you at the Chateau Regis.”

  “I’ll need billeting for Eleventh Regiment and two companies,” Quaeryt replied.

  “Ah … we have made arrangements for two regiments, sir.”

  “We didn’t lose Nineteenth Regiment, if that’s the concern. Subcommander Alazyn is supporting Submarshal Skarpa in the submarshal’s capacity as acting governor of Antiago.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’d appreciate your keeping that to yourself until we have a chance to brief Lord Bhayar personally.” Quaeryt image-projected a sense of just how displeased he would be if the major let that slip.

  The major stiffened for an instant, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  Almost two quints passed before Vaelora and Quaeryt walked up the grand staircase of the rebuilt Chateau Regis to the upper-level foyer. The staircase, Quaeryt recalled, had needed few repairs, unlike the outer and inner walls and floors. The walls still held no ornamentation, and the main-level furnishings had been comparatively sparse, although part of that was doubtless a reflection of Bhayar’s wishes, since he’d never liked elaboration for the sake of elaboration.

  “He is in the northeast study, not in the receiving chamber, Lady, Commander,” said the captain who escorted them when they reached the second level of the chateau. He turned to the left and led them along a wide corridor toward the sole door with a pair of guards stationed outside.