You had observed certain aspects of my discourse and addressed those with care and consideration. In addition, I would propose, if but tentatively, an additional observation. I believe, and it is, of course, only my belief, that among all people, and particularly among women, those who are often most effective in changing the course of events are those who are many times the least noticed or noticed as having been merely helpful …
Those words struck Quaeryt, and he reread them, then nodded.
… That being said, there are doubtless many who are effective and well-noticed, and of great accomplishments and meritorious achievement, but, if one can believe the histories and, indeed, the legends, it would appear that of those many a rather large proportion did not live to the ages they might have had they not been so well-noted in their accomplishments.… Again, this is but the opinion of a woman, and one who has led a most sheltered life.…
He couldn’t help but smile at that line. No one in Bhayar’s household led exactly a sheltered life. Protected, but not sheltered. He continued to read through her notes on several books she had read, and her pithy, if carefully couched, observations.
… and although fall is approaching, the weather remains more reminiscent of summer than of fall, or even of harvest. I do hope my words have not been excessive or terribly less than scholarly, and I look forward to your reply.
Again, the letter was signed with but her single initial.
As Quaeryt reread the letter, something else nagged at him, and he retrieved her second letter, and reread it quickly, then her original letter—and laughed quietly. While the logic and the validity and structure of the basic thoughts were still there, the second and third letters contained far more flowery and self-deprecating phrases and qualifications, phrases which he believed not at all, but whose purpose was all too clear. What remained unclear—and likely would for some time, perhaps always—was her motivation in writing. Did she feel so constricted within her palace that such letters were her only escape?
Quaeryt had no way of knowing, and he was not about to ask, not when he enjoyed receiving those missives—and replying—and when asking might offend her enough to cause her to cease writing. He immediately sat down to compose a reply, but only finished slightly more than a page before he realized it was time to eat—and that he was indeed hungry.
When he reached the mess, he stopped cold, seeing most of the officers in their jackets and realizing that it was mess night. He didn’t immediately see any of the officers he had come to know when he entered the mess, nor did he see Phargos, about which he was slightly relieved, although he doubted that Gauswn or the other officers in Sixth Battalion had yet had the chance or the inclination to discuss his homilies in Boralieu with the regimental chorister. He shrugged and made his way to his place, where Haestyn and Dueryl greeted him and immediately begin to ply him with questions. Those were cut short by Rescalyn’s arrival. The marshal’s words were brief, essentially welcoming back the officers of Sixth Battalion.
After Rescalyn’s words, Quaeryt bantered with those around him and enjoyed the seasoned roasted fowl with the rice and mushrooms in sauce.
When he returned to his quarters after the evening meal, he struggled through his reply to Vaelora, let it sit on the writing desk while he finished unpacking, and then reread it again.
Mistress Vaelora—
I am in receipt of your letter of 24 Erntyn, although I did not receive it until I returned from a month spent with the cavalry at Boralieu post. I fear I am not cut of the cloth to be a cavalry officer. On the very first patrol I accompanied, I took a crossbow quarrel in the shoulder. As the governor has said to Lord Bhayar in his dispatches, the hill brigands are indeed troublesome types. One even later boasted that action against his holding would incite all the hill holders into revolt. Fortunately, a salutatory visit in force arranged by Commander Zirkyl, who commands the post at Boralieu, convinced the hotheaded holder that his words were most unwise. The injury from the quarrel limited my riding with patrols for several weeks. Fortunately, later patrols were not so eventfully difficult for me …
From there, Quaeryt gave a brief summary of his patrols, then addressed her words to him.
While I have not had time to give full consideration to your latest missive, and will not have that time if I am to dispatch this tomorrow morning, your words do give rise to some thoughts, particularly in light of my task to assess the difficulties of administering a province such as Tilbor.…
Governor Rescalyn is a good and thoughtful governor, who has clearly studied the precepts of administration and ruling, but he is most especially an excellent marshal. The soldiers and cavalry here are well-trained and extraordinarily devoted to the marshal. One officer claimed that his men would attack the Nameless if the governor so ordered. If only Rex Kharst knew what an effective and disciplined force the marshal has trained. It must comprise close to two regiments, if not three. How quickly they would disperse anyone sent against them, but, having seen, firsthand, the smallest bit of fighting, I would not wish such on anyone unless it becomes absolutely necessary, although the forces here could certainly form the spearhead of any army required to repulse the Bovarians … or for any other purpose necessary. I am most certain that Lord Bhayar understands far better than I to what uses such a dedicated force can be applied, for I am but a scholar of history and can only look back and peruse the dusty tomes dating from even before the times of the Yaran warlords.
Given Vaelora’s education and personal history, Quaeryt had every hope that she would understand the references, and the implications, assuming she ever received the letter—and that whoever read the correspondence before she did would not. If she did, then he had no doubts that she would inform Bhayar … and Bhayar was definitely not insensitive to the undercurrents of power.
Finally, he closed the letter.
Your thoughts and words offer both insight and cheer, and I am more than glad to receive them, and to reply with what insight and wit I can offer.
He used the same closing as before—“In sincerest admiration and appreciation.”
Then he blew out the lamp over the writing desk, bolted the door, undressed, and collapsed into bed.
61
Tired as he was, Quaeryt was up early on Vendrei so that he could eat before handing his dispatch to Bhayar and his letter to Vaelora to the courier. He didn’t recognize the courier, an older and wiry soldier, but the rider’s eyes didn’t even widen at the address on the letter. He did accept the silver gracefully and with a quiet “Thank you, sir.”
Then Quaeryt went to his study around the corner from Straesyr’s anteroom. He sat there for several quints, pondering exactly what he should do next. To keep the local scholars in the good graces of Bhayar, the people of Tilbora, and the High Holders, he needed to separate them from the hill holders, in a way that wasn’t terribly obvious or embarrassing to the hill holders while retaining the good features of the Ecoliae. He also needed to verify his various suspicions about the governor, and he needed to determine more precisely the relationship between Straesyr and Rescalyn.
He looked up at the rap on the open door.
Vhorym stood there. “Sir? The princeps would like a word with you.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt rose and walked to the anteroom and into Straesyr’s study. He couldn’t help but notice, through the windows behind the princeps, that the sunlight falling on the north walls surrounding the palace definitely seemed weaker. “Yes, sir?”
“Have a seat, Quaeryt.”
Quaeryt sat.
“On Mardi, the governor will be riding north to join High Holder Freunyt for a luncheon. Since the High Holder extended the invitation to include others, the governor thought that it might be useful for you to accompany him. I also feel that would be useful. Your reports show you have seen the hill holders. You should visit a High Holder or two as well. The governor and his party will be departing at seventh glass.”
“I will be there.”
“I also had a pair of coats tailored for you. One is a jacket in the style of an undress uniform, and the other is a dress coat. You need to stop by the regimental tailor’s this morning to make sure they fit so that, if they don’t, he can make the necessary alterations.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You can wear the undress jacket when you accompany the governor and the dress coat to the factors’ reception on Samedi. Vhorym has your invitation.”
Quaeryt inclined his head. “I must say that I am surprised.”
“My duties are to deal with trade, commerce, and the most necessary tariffs that they raise. Certainly, as a scholar assistant to me, you should be visible, especially since several factors have already mentioned your presence in Tilbora. I would like them to meet you so that everyone can see that you are open and about my business.”
“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt paused, then asked quietly, “Sir? Might I bring up one other matter for your consideration?”
Straesyr smiled. “If it does not take too long.”
“Thank you.” The scholar rose and stepped toward the door, this time closing it behind himself before approaching the desk again. He did not sit before he spoke. “I’ve run across the name of a High Holder Fhaedyrk,” offered Quaeryt. “He’s mentioned several times in old dispatches and even in the records of the Khanar’s Council. What can you tell me about him, sir?”
Straesyr frowned. “I recall the unpleasantness associated with Governor Fhayt. It wasn’t Fhaedyrk’s fault. That was rather clear, but the governor has not been inclined to test those waters again.”
“Would it be untoward if I paid him a visit, perhaps as your intermediary?”
“For what reason?” Straesyr’s voice was pleasantly bland.
“I ran across a reference to him in the Khanar’s Council reports, and he had enough courage to write the Khanar suggesting that the two strengths of Tilbor were the High Holders and the factors and traders of the south. As I recall, and as you just stated and as your holding a reception for factors emphasizes, your duties include strengthening trade and the tariffs resulting from that trade and commerce.”
Quaeryt thought he saw a slight glint in Straesyr’s eyes as the princeps nodded slowly and thoughtfully before replying. “And?”
“As your intermediary, who is looking into trade, I could certainly inquire as to his thoughts on the matter.”
“I think you have more on your mind than that, scholar.”
“Yes, sir. I do. I’d like to see if the High Holder has any ideas about who or what was behind the attack on Governor Fhayt. I am not a great believer in coincidence, and I find it too coincidental that the only attack on a governor was when he was riding to see the sole High Holder who was willing to speak out in favor of the traders and crafters of Tilbor.”
“That is an interesting observation, but that happened years ago.”
“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt said nothing more.
“Well … it cannot hurt.” Straesyr paused. “You know, his holding is almost four glasses to the north, and for that distance, you will need an escort. One squad with a junior officer, an undercaptain, should be appropriate. I will discuss this with the governor, since he will need to approve the escort, and if he approves, I will dispatch a messenger with a request for you to meet with the High Holder in the latter part of next week.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If nothing else, it will help convince Fhaedyrk that the governor has thought more of him than merely inviting him to various events and receptions.” Straesyr glanced toward the closed study door. “If that is all…?”
“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt bowed slightly, turned, and left, leaving the study door as it had been before his reentry—half-open. Once he was in the anteroom and neared the table desk, Vhorym stood and handed him an envelope.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
“Could you tell me where I might find the regimental tailor?”
“His shop is in the front of the first stables, sir.”
Quaeryt did not open the unsealed envelope until he returned to his study. The invitation was to a reception in the Red Room of the palace, honoring the Factors’ Association of Tilbora at the third glass of Samedi afternoon, and hosted by the princeps.
After reading the invitation, he immediately left to see the regimental tailor. Once there, he had to wait for half a quint while the tailor took the measurements for new uniforms for a major whose face Quaeryt recognized, but to whom he’d not been introduced. Once the major left, the tailor, a senior ranker, brought out two coats.
“I would guess these are yours, sir.”
“Unless there are any other scholars attached to the princeps’s staff, I would guess so, too,” replied Quaeryt with a soft, warm laugh and a smile.
He tried them both on, beginning with the undress jacket. As he took off the longer dress coat, he looked to the tailor. “They fit perfectly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How did you manage?”
“I had a set of your browns to measure from, sir. I just hoped that they were accurate. It appears that they were.”
While Quaeryt had left a set of browns behind in his west wing quarters, he had only glanced at them when he’d returned, because he’d been exhausted the night before and because he’d dressed hurriedly that morning. “Even so, your work is excellent.” Quaeryt extended a silver. “I know you’re paid fairly by the regiment, but a token of my thanks.”
“Sir … I can’t…”
“You’re half-right. If … if I were an officer, or even a ranker, you couldn’t. I’m not. So … save it for when you really want an ale or a lager, and it’s still days from the paymaster.”
“Sir…”
“Please don’t make me beg to have you take it. I’ve never owned a coat that fine.” That was certainly true enough. “I tell you what. Keep the silver, but only until you find someone who truly needs it. Then … give it to them.”
The tailor frowned, then shook his head. “I really can’t, sir.”
“Then I’ll have to do that for you. Tell me your name, so that I can tell whoever I give it to that it’s from you.”
“Oeldyrk, sir.”
“You have my word, Oeldyrk, that some poor and deserving individual will benefit, and my gratitude for the jacket and coat.” Quaeryt offered a broad smile before he left to take the garments back to his quarters.
After he hung the jacket and coat in his armoire, he headed back to the main section of the palace to pick up the key to the dispatch room. He’d thought about riding into Tilbora, but decided against that because he’d ridden the mare long glasses for the previous two days. Besides, he needed to catch up on the dispatches to see what, if anything, he’d missed.
Caermyt handed over the key, as politely disapproving as ever, and Quaeryt walked quickly down to the dispatch room, where he lit the desk lamps and began to read through the dispatches that had accumulated since his departure from the palace. Part of one was of obvious personal interest.
… received word that Quaeryt Rytersyn, the scholar assistant to the princeps, was accompanying a routine patrol when he was seriously wounded by a crossbow quarrel fired by one of the followers of a hill holder, most likely one Waerfyl Aerfylsyn … indication that the hill holders remain dangerous and that maintaining hill posts and outposts continues to be necessary …
Quaeryt kept reading. The issues of the poaching and the timber thefts by Waerfyl were mentioned, as were Waerfyl’s denial of guilt and his statement that action against him would result in an uprising by all hill holders. There was also Rescalyn’s observation that the post commander at Boralieu had conveyed a warning in force to Waerfyl and that transgressions in that area had ceased, but that it was likely others would occur elsewhere. That was confirmed by the next dispatch, which detailed the coal thefts and the attack on Meinyt’s patrol.
Less than a glass later, Quaeryt came to the last dispatc
h, the one sent that morning, which included a single line …
… Quaeryt Rytersyn, Scholar Assistant to the Princeps, returned to Tilbora largely healed from the wound inflicted by the hill holders …
Quaeryt nodded, then stopped, and leafed back through the dispatches. He looked again. The only mentions of the hill holders or the actions of the regiment were those relating to the two attacks. The other reports dealt with problems in collecting tariffs from two northern High Holders, and various other difficulties.
There’s not really a word that depicts anything positive … and it’s not because Rescalyn is a gloomy sort. He’s anything but that.
Quaeryt shook his head. He didn’t like what he was discovering—the continuing portrayal of the hill holders as a far greater threat than he suspected that they were. He especially didn’t care for the fact that there wasn’t anything rock-solid that he could have used as proof of what he was coming to believe. He frowned, then began to look back through the dispatches.
62
On Vendrei night, after he’d returned to his quarters following the evening meal and prepared for bed, he had checked his spare browns, one of the pair tailored at the Ecoliae. Not only were they hanging in the narrow armoire, but they had been cleaned and pressed. That scarcely surprised him. On Samedi morning he donned the same browns he’d worn on Vendrei, deciding to save the clean and pressed ones for the reception, then made his way to the mess. There he ended up sitting with Captain Taenyd and another undercaptain—Haardyn.
“How is your comparative history coming?” asked Taenyd with a smile.
“Matters were slowed somewhat, as you might have heard. A crossbow quarrel, in fact.”
“I heard that. I also heard that you’re so knowledgeable that you could be a chorister.”
“From Undercaptain Gauswn?”
“And from others.”
“Alas … I’m a scholar of history, not of the Nameless. I’m not sure good scholars always make good choristers.”
Scholar Page 38