Bhayar shook his head. “I have what you sent me. You two did take some liberties with the codex.”
“Very few. We did add a section on imagers, saying that, while they were subject to the laws of Solidar, they could not be executed or imprisoned for more than two seasons for violations of the code without the express written consent of the Rex Regis, and that the Collegium Imago had the right to investigate any death or injury to an imager. We also simplified the sections on tariffs, and made misuse of tariff revenues by a regional governor a crime with penalties ranging from fines to death, depending on the severity of the abuse, and we spelled out each level of abuse. We also allowed High Holders to retain the right of low justice, but high justice must be meted out by regional justicers appointed by the Rex Regis—”
“Enough! After we work out the terms with Khel, I’ll sign it, and the Ministry of Administration and Supply can send copies to everyone, and you’ll spend the next year explaining it to all the High Holders and factors. Here and in Khel.” Bhayar paused. “What about governing?”
“They want the High Council to govern on your behalf.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“We suggested that you appoint a regional governor and that he have two princeps, rather than the usual one. One would be for logistics, and the second would be to advise the governor, and would be the head councilor of the High Council—or, alternatively, an appointee of the High Council.”
“That might work. Who would you suggest as regional governor for Khel?”
“Subcommander Meinyt. Promote him to Commander and make it clear to both Meinyt and the Council that the governor’s role is gentle oversight, the collection of tariffs, and that, so long as the Council maintains order under the code of laws you’ve promulgated…” Quaeryt offered both a smile and a shrug.
“I’ll have to think about that.” Bhayar squared his shoulders. “We might as well go over the terms line by line.”
Quaeryt did not sigh, much as he felt like it.
64
As Quaeryt had feared, the next two days were long, and while not exactly unpleasant, he found them tiring in first explaining to Khaliost and Chiana why some of the High Council’s proposals would not work or could not be accepted, and conversely, pointing out to Bhayar how the accommodations suggested by either the Khellans or Vaelora and Quaeryt would not measurably affect his rule and power. The largest sticking point was the issue of governance, but in the end, Khaliost and Bhayar agreed on the point that the High Council would appoint the princeps of Khel, while an assistant princeps, not a second princeps, largely for logistics and supply, would be appointed by the Rex Regis.
On Vendrei morning, at eighth glass, two glasses before the final agreement was to be signed, Quaeryt and Vaelora met once more with Bhayar in his study.
Quaeryt handed a single-page document to Bhayar.
“What is this?”
“It’s the proclamation you’ll issue after signing the terms with Khel. It declares that the united lands of Lydar, comprising the former lands of Tilbor, Telaryn, Bovaria, Antiago, and Khel, are henceforth united and to be known as Solidar, and that the capital city, formerly known as Variana, is now L’Excelsis, and that your title as ruler is also henceforth Rex Regis.”
“L’Excelsis?” Bhayar frowned, as he had for much of the week.
“Just let it be, brother dear, and sign it,” snapped Vaelora.
“Don’t get snippy with me…”
“Who else dares to be honest with you?” she said quietly.
“Your husband, but he’s more politely insistent.”
“That’s because he didn’t grow up with you.”
Bhayar shook his head and looked to Quaeryt. “I am glad she married you … and I’m looking forward to the time when you’re maître of the Collegium.”
“Even when that happens, and we have quarters there,” replied Vaelora, “I’ll still be your Minister for Administration.”
Bhayar mock-groaned. “I know. I know.” Then he picked up the document and read through it. After a moment he reached for the pen in the holder, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed the proclamation. “There!”
“Good,” said Vaelora. “I’ll have the clerks make copies and we’ll send them out everywhere.”
Quaeryt eased the proclamation away from Bhayar and slipped another one before him. “Here’s the other document you requested—the assignment of the high holding of Khunthan, one of the largest in Solidar, to Deucalon.”
“Given its size, he shouldn’t complain,” said Bhayar, “even if it is just about as far from … L’Excelsis … as possible.”
“Eshtora’s not close,” admitted Quaeryt, “and we will convey to Deucalon that the regional governor and princeps will be watching closely to see how he handles those lands. Meinyt will be perfect for that.”
“You’re sure he’ll accept being regional governor of Khel?”
“He’s done well so far as acting regional governor of the west of Bovaria, and you can always hint that other possibilities exist in time if he does well in Khel.” Quaeryt paused. “He will, though. He’s tough and practical, yet reasonable, and that’s what you need to deal with the High Council, especially when they’re collecting the tariffs.” And Meinyt won’t put up with any foolishness … from either the Council or Deucalon.
65
As they dressed for the comparatively small formal dinner on Samedi evening to celebrate the signing of the terms between Khel and Solidar, Quaeryt stood behind Vaelora as she sat peering into the mirror and studying her reflection, an image with which Quaeryt could find no fault … although he suspected she would discover some way to improve it.
“You have that distant expression on your face,” she said abruptly after glancing up at him. “Are you still thinking about how everything happened?”
“I wasn’t … but I have on and off. It’s hard not to. I couldn’t have done it without you … and Khalis and Lhandor … and Elsior.” Elsior was the one who knew the dangers of metal-lined rooms. “I should have thought about the metal rooms and darkness after your flash…”
“How could you have known…”
“You were the one who told me about how Aliaro kept his imagers in metal-lined rooms … but I didn’t even think about Myskyl and his imagers…” Quaeryt shook his head.
“That’s one of the things I like about you,” Vaelora said warmly.
“What?”
“You’re not like Deucalon, or Myskyl … or even Rholan. You know a great deal, but you don’t think you have the answers for everything.”
“That’s because I have you, with me and behind me … and sometimes very much in front of me,” Quaeryt replied playfully. “You remind me just enough that I know I don’t have all the answers. Rholan likely didn’t, either. He just didn’t have someone like you.”
Vaelora’s mouth opened. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
Without answering, Vaelora jumped up from the dressing table and hurried into the bedchamber. She returned holding the leatherbound volume of Rholan and the Nameless, leafing through it as she did. “Remember that part when the writer talks about Rholan not knowing the importance of a woman’s appearance and how it is a source of her power?”
“Yes,” replied Quaeryt warily.
“Here’s another section … when the writer is talking about Rholan’s feelings about factors.” She began to read …
“… they know the value of every kind of good to the last part of a copper. What they cannot value are the ideals of the people that make those values possible. Among those values are the beliefs that a good reputation is to be more valued than golds in one’s wallet or that a man should be paid honestly for his work. Of course, he never mentioned that the same should be true of women …
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Quaeryt began to grin. “Go on.”
She turned to the last page of the small leatherbound book. �
��Here … look.” She pointed to the last letters.
Quaeryt looked over her shoulder at them. “The End.”
“They’re not a fancy way of writing ‘The End,’” said Vaelora. “They’re initials.”
Quaeryt looked more closely, seeing what she meant—the curled letters, studied closely, actually read “TN&D.”
Abruptly he understood fully. “Thieryesa of Niasaen and Douvyt … She wrote the book. He did have a woman behind him all the time, even if he never acknowledged her.” And she did get the last word … in her own way. But then, so did Vaelora.
He smiled.
“What are you thinking?” Vaelora asked as she closed the book.
“That it’s time for us to make an appearance.” He grinned, taking in her still-slender figure and her beauty in the pale green gown with the brown sleeveless silk vest that highlighted her eyes.
“You were not.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell you later.”
“You’d better.”
“I always do.”
“In your own good time.”
“But I tell you.” Always. He reached out and took her hand.
They walked down the grand staircase arm in arm.
EPILOGUE
Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Calkoran rode down the west river road. To their left was Imagisle, and ahead was the bridge over the River Aluse.
“I don’t see why I have to come to Imagisle in order to see the changes the imagers made to the student quarters for young women,” said Vaelora. “High Holder Ensoel’s daughter could certainly live with whatever changes they made. I’ve accommodated myself to a range of housing over the past years.”
“I know,” replied Quaeryt. “Calkoran insists that it’s also so that we can inspect the family cottages as well. Neither of us has been here in weeks with all the other details your brother has piled on us. All the imagers are male, and not many have wives—or daughters. The wives of the few that do have them have been sent for, but they haven’t arrived yet. According to both Gauswn and Horan—even Zhelan—the imagers worry that they may have overlooked something.”
From where he rode on Vaelora’s right, Calkoran cleared his throat. “I would not feel comfortable, Lady Vaelora, if the imagers were building a house for the families of my men…”
“When are you leaving for Vaestora?” asked Vaelora gently, the softness of her words conveying her understanding of the mixed feelings behind Calkoran’s words.
“The day after tomorrow, Lady. The last of my companies left for Khel yesterday to support Governor Meinyt.”
Escorting Deucalon as well. Quaeryt nodded at that.
“You don’t have to call me ‘Lady,’” replied Vaelora, “now that you’re a High Holder.”
“Only through the kindness of your brother and husband,” replied the former marshal and subcommander.
“You earned that holding,” replied Quaeryt. “Both in Khel and in Bovaria. And you’ll take care of it.”
“I have no heirs,” Calkoran said.
“You’re still young enough to have them,” replied Vaelora, “and a distinguished commander and marshal who’s handsome and now a High Holder won’t have any lack of interested young women.”
“There are likely some daughters of wealthy Pharsi who would be very interested,” added Quaeryt with a grin.
The gray-haired officer actually blushed, then gestured for them to guide their mounts onto the bridge.
“They’ve done so much.” As she reached the middle of the bridge, Vaelora gestured to the anomen. “It’s so beautiful now.”
When they reached the green, Quaeryt pointed toward the building at the south end. “That’s the administration or headquarters building. There’s even a study there for me when I become the full-time maître … whenever that happens.”
“It won’t be that long now,” said Vaelora. “Things are settling down.”
“That’s true. Justanan has a firm grip, and so do you.”
“To the north of the green,” said Calkoran. “That is where the family cottages are.”
Quaeryt and Vaelora turned north and took the left side of the paved boulevard. There were five houses on the east side, then the paved lane, a narrow green, another paved lane, and five more dwellings on the west side. Each was solidly constructed of a gray brick, with a roof of slate tiles. Each dwelling had white shutters and matching trim, with brassbound oak doors set in the middle of wide covered front porches.
“They left space behind each one for more lanes and houses,” said Calkoran.
Quaeryt looked up. A large structure stood at the north end of the parkway. Before it was a wide paved area. A lane led to a small structure that had to be a stable set to the rear of the dwelling and to the west. Unlike the family dwellings, the larger building was of two stories, its walls of gray granite. It extended a good forty yards across the front and was completely surrounded by a covered porch. Broad stone steps led up to the porch, and the shutters and trim were painted a luminous light greenish brown that somehow avoided being garish. Wide windows graced both floors.
Flanking the short walk to the steps were the imager undercaptains, with Zhelan standing slightly to one side.
Quaeryt looked to Vaelora, but she appeared as stunned as he felt. Then Quaeryt looked to Calkoran. “That wasn’t here the last time I was here.”
“No, sir.” Calkoran smiled. “Why don’t you let the major explain?”
Quaeryt kept studying the large dwelling as he and Vaelora rode toward it, taking in the brassbound front doors with the elaborate etched glass whose pattern he could not quite make out, what looked to be stone tiling on the porch floor, and the stone pillars supporting the porch.
When they reined up, Zhelan stepped forward, followed by the imager undercaptains. “Commander and Lady … your future home.”
“It is not finished yet, inside,” declared Baelthm. “We would not do that, Lady, without your guidance.”
“We all knew you wouldn’t ever ask for what you deserve, sir and Lady,” said Khalis, with a broad smile. “So we did our best to build it before you could object. Lhandor did the plans.”
Quaeryt just kept looking at the magnificent dwelling, not a palace, but certainly a small mansion. He could feel his eyes burning.
Vaelora reached across the gap between their mounts and took his hand. “You deserve this.”
He shook his head. “Not without you.”
“We deserve it, then.” Vaelora smiled warmly at him.
Quaeryt didn’t object. Not so long as she was beside him.
Tor Books by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
The Imager Portfolio
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The Magic of Recluce
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Colors of Chaos
Magi’i of Cyador
Scion of Cyador
Wellspring of Chaos
Ordermaster
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Darksong Rising
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Timegods’ World (comprising Timediver’s Dawn and The Timegod)
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The Octagonal Raven
Archform: Beauty
The Ethos Effect
Flash
The Eternity Artifact
The Elysium Commission
Viewpoints Critical
Haze
Empress of Eternity
The One-Eyed Man
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L. E. Modesitt, Jr., is the New York Times bestselling author of the Imager Portfolio and the Saga of Recluce. He lives in Cedar City, Utah.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
REX REGIS: THE EIGHTH BOOK IN THE IMAGER PORTFOLIO
Copyright © 2013 by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Donato Giancola
Map by Jon Lansberg
A Tor Book
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Rex Regis Page 51