Scholar ip-4

by L. E. Modesitt

  “What happened to the Guard?”

  “When the Pretender was defeated in battle-just below the palace, in fact-he attempted to retreat behind the walls, but the Guard closed the gates and left the Khanar and his clan followers to face Lord Chayar. The Guard commander claimed that the Pretender wasn’t the true Khanar of Tilbor. That made matters easier for Lord Chayar, even though he privately deemed the Guard unworthy. He didn’t want to execute all that were left of the two thousand. So he disbanded the Guard and exiled the officers to either Bovaria or Antiago … well, also Khel, but that was just before Kharst began his campaign to take over Khel.”

  “Did any of the Guards take up arms against Lord Chayar later?”

  Straesyr shrugged. “I doubt it. Some of them may have, but if they did, it had to be with the backwoods holders.”

  “None of the High Holders caused trouble?”

  “Only one. He refused to pay the overtariff Lord Chayar imposed. Chayar pulled down his holding and killed him. He had me sell off half the lands to pay the tariff and the costs of the attacks, and left the rest to the widow and heirs.”

  That was a slightly different story than the one Quaeryt had heard from Sarastyn, but he nodded. “After that I take it no one refused to pay tariffs.”

  “Not so far.” The princeps gave a short laugh. “Not in the nine years since.”

  “How have the merchanters, factors, crafters, and growers done with their tariffs?”

  “They pay them. Sometimes a few are late. There were more who were late until the governor-that was Governor Fhayt, the one before Governor Rescalyn-sent armed squads to collect.”

  “I’d heard that there have been attacks on soldiers.”

  “There have been,” admitted Straesyr.

  “On men alone at night?”

  “Oh … there have been a few killed by thieves and brigands. That happens everywhere. No. The attacks by their so-called partisans have been on squads on collection duties in the backlands.”

  “Have you lost any entire squads?”

  “Once, last year. Now we send out at least a company. We rotate the companies, except in the winter, when we use those trained in the snow.”

  “Have you captured any of these partisans?”

  “None who know anything. When we have, they’ve changed their meeting places.”

  “What sort of weapons do they use?”

  “They prefer to pick off soldiers with arrows or quarrels, rather than fight close at hand. That’s one reason why the regiment has few archers.”

  Quaeryt couldn’t help frowning. The princeps’s statement seemed to make no sense.

  “I see I’ve puzzled you. Tilbor is different. The towns are farther apart. Even the trees in the forests are farther apart. Their archers hide in trees or fire and run. Against these tactics, archers, even mounted archers, are mostly useless. Archers are far more effective against massed bodies of men, especially on foot and in the open. Cavalry or mounted infantry that can move quickly through the woods or on the roads are less of a target and are more effective at chasing the brigands down. The regiment does have one company of archers, but they’re seldom used.” Straesyr smiled tightly. “I’ll talk to the governor when he returns about letting you read the dispatches. I don’t see a problem, but that has to be his decision.”

  “Thank you. Do you or the governor meet often with any of the High Holders?”

  “We hold a reception here once every season. I think every single one and his wife have attended at least one a year. Every so often the governor is invited to dinners at the local High Holders’ estates, and he makes announced and unannounced visits with a cavalry company to different High Holders on a continuing basis. They do come to meet with the governor when they have problems with a ruling from the governor or Lord Bhayar. I’m the one who meets more often with factors and local merchants.…”

  Quaeryt listened, asking a question now and again, for almost a glass.

  “… that’s about all I can tell you. Do you have any questions that bear on your duties?” Straesyr finally asked.

  “Scholars are respected in Solis, if warily, but in Nacliano, they are driven out. How have you seen them regarded here?”

  “They have a school and a Scholars’ House to the southwest of here. I would say that they are regarded as in somewhat the same fashion as in Solis. Why do you ask?”

  “I will need to ride through Tilbora and perhaps farther to gather information. I would rather not be a target.”

  “You may be anyway, once others discover you are attached to the governor’s staff.”

  Quaeryt laughed softly. “That is possible, but I doubt that most Tilborans would go out of their way to try to find out if one scholar is the one working for the governor as opposed to however many are not.”

  “You do have a point there, until they come to recognize you.”

  “Did the Khanar have a library as well, something that might have histories of Tilbor?”

  “That’s on the first level, and it’s open to all officers. There’s a guard there, but only to make sure no volumes vanish.”

  “Are there any records of how the Khanar dealt with the High Holders and…”

  “There’s an entire archive. That’s also guarded, but you’re welcome to look there. Do you really think…?”

  “There’s always a possibility. It’s probably small, but since you wished me to remain within the palace until after the governor’s return, I thought it couldn’t do any harm.” Quaeryt offered a smile. “And scholars are supposed to dig into old books and records.…”

  “Ah … quite so.”

  “That’s all I can think of for now, sir.” Quaeryt waited.

  “There is one other matter. You will need a study here in the palace … for those times when you are not actively pursuing your tasks or need a place to write where I or the governor can conveniently find you. There is a small vacant chamber three doors to the right as you go out of the anteroom. It is little larger than a small storeroom, but it is suitably appointed and has a window. I expect you to be there at seventh glass from Lundi through Samedi unless you have previously informed me otherwise. I also expect brief written reports weekly, to be on my desk on Lundi morning … again, unless you are traveling or otherwise occupied.”

  “Yes, sir. There may be certain matters not best put in ink.…”

  “Then just write in the report that you need time to brief me on a matter relating to your duties.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Straesyr smiled wryly. “I had always heard that some seamen were almost as disciplined as soldiers, and I’m pleased to see that you appear able to fit into the regiment. I do hope you will not disappoint the governor and me in that regard.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s all I have. Vhorym will show you your study.”

  “Thank you.”

  Straesyr nodded a dismissal, and Quaeryt stood, inclining his head before turning and leaving.

  The aide who had been seated at the table desk in the anteroom rose. “Sir … the princeps asked me to show you your study.” He handed the scholar a brass key.

  “I’d appreciate that. You’re Vhorym?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I assume I give my weekly reports to you so that you can put them on the princeps’s desk?”

  “Yes, sir. I do that for the officers who report to the princeps.”

  After only a day at the Telaryn Palace, Quaeryt found himself thoroughly reminded just why he’d left the sea and returned to the scholars.

  The study to which Vhorym guided Quaeryt was paneled in polished oak. Even the inside shutters were of oiled and polished oak, as was the writing desk, with clean lines and none of the carved ornamentation that distinguished the desk used by the princeps.

  Once Vhorym had left, Quaeryt walked to the window and opened the shutters, allowing light to flood into the chamber. Then he sat down before the desk, thinking.

  Amo
ng other matters, Straesyr’s point about Quaeryt’s eventually being a target concerned the scholar. He’d always been able to fade into the background with his concealment shields, but, as he’d discovered in dealing with Chardyn, there were times when concealment wasn’t enough, and he had the feeling that he would encounter more of those situations in Tilbor, possibly many more. There would also be times when too many people would be watching him for him to appear to vanish. After he’d almost died trying to image gold, he’d become wary of trying to discover new imaging skills, only working to develop those he’d read or seen were possible. There were tales of great feats of imaging, but Quaeryt had more than a few doubts about the veracity of such stories. Yet, for all those doubts, he was plagued by the feeling that he might be too cautious.

  Then, too, he’d have to sort out how much of the truth lay in the princeps’s version of events, as compared to Chardyn’s version, or Sarastyn’s, and whether any of them were particularly close to what happened … if he even could.

  36

  In the end, Quaeryt decided he’d begin with the Khanar’s library. The young-looking squad leader at the table by the door took a quick glance at Quaeryt, then said, “You know you can’t remove any books from the chambers, sir?”

  “The princeps made that clear, Squad Leader. I’m likely to be here a while.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt nodded, then turned and studied the library. He and the squad leader were the only ones in the library. The door through which he had entered accessed the center chamber of three. At each end of the main chamber was an archway some three yards wide leading into the adjoining room. In the middle of the center chamber, not four yards from him, was a large oval ceramic stove with a freestanding stone chimney. On each end of the stove were open wood bins, half-filled. A series of dark brown leather armchairs were spaced in the middle of the chamber, all facing toward the wall that held the entry door.

  Built-in dark wooden bookcases lined every wall and rose from roughly knee level to about two and a half yards above the floor, clearly designed so that most men could reach any volume without resorting to a ladder or a stool. Above the shelves on the wall beyond the stove were windows, each one less than two spans high, but almost a yard wide. Except for two windows, each a third of the way from the walls holding the archways into the other two rooms, the glass was set in frames that did not allow them to be open, and Quaeryt could not see through them. That was because, he realized, there was another pane of glass set perhaps half a handspan behind the first, again except for the two windows that could be opened.

  For a moment, he wondered at the arrangement, before realizing it was to allow more light into the library while minimizing draft through the windows by double-glazing all but two.

  He began by studying each shelf, taking out a few books and leafing through them to see if they were shelved in a particular order. Each shelf was comparatively short, roughly two-thirds of a yard long. The first section of shelves all held books, largely slender, dealing with mathematics and measurements. So did the second section The third section dealt with medical matters, as did the fourth, while the fifth held tomes on herbs and their uses.

  It took Quaeryt more than two glasses to complete his initial survey of the library, after which he sat down in one of the comfortable dark brown leather armchairs to think and rest his eyes. The history section comprised three sets of shelves, as did volumes on military tactics and statecraft, and there was one section on philosophy, and another on religion. There were almost three sets of shelves holding verse, but only a single set of shelves held plays and works of drama, but two sets of shelves held folders of music. A great many of those books had been read, some very well read.

  What does that tell you about the Khanars?

  If the books in the library were any indication, they-or some in the palace-were far more knowledgeable than either Bhayar or Chayar, not that such knowledge had availed them in the end.

  Quaeryt decided to look more closely through the shelves on history and tactics. The leather bindings of several of the books on the topmost shelf were worn and close to splitting in places. He took down one and opened it to the title page-Meditations on the Art of Warfare. The author was a Mhoral Chardynsyn, Commander, Guard of the Khanar. The date was 614 E.K., and that meant nothing to Quaeryt. He leafed through the introduction, smiling as his eyes tracked one phrase.

  … any commander must bear in mind that the greatest possibility of failure of execution always lies in the officers, for well-trained men and mounts seldom betray their training …

  He replaced the book and kept looking, immediately passing on Basics of Foot Strategy and Pike and Blade Tactics. The next volume was thin and entitled Course of Instruction in Fortifications. Eventually, close to a glass later, he came to an older but well-thumbed volume-Considerations Behind the Strategy of War. He almost passed on it, except … there was the slightest gap in pages, and he opened the volume there to find a piece of notepaper and a passage that had been lightly bracketed with some sort of markstick.…

  … while a ruler’s force of arms must always be superior to those of his holders, use of force should always be reserved for when no other alternative will achieve the ruler’s ends. In such cases, appropriate force should be applied before the enemies even know the ruler is considering such use.… Force of arms can be as limited as the assassination of a single enemy commander of great skill, or even of a cousin or other relation who would plunge a land into chaos, or as great as the conscription of every able-bodied man in the land … most skillful of rulers can see when to use assassination or other tactics to avoid the ruin that follows even the most successful of battles …

  At the last sentence, Quaeryt had to nod. He unfolded the notepaper, apparently the bottom half of a larger sheet, on which were written the words “even ancient writers could see where the greatest dangers lay…” The cursive script looked feminine to Quaeryt, but it had the unnatural precision, he thought, of a young woman still under the direction of a scholar or private tutor. The very words reinforced that impression, because no truly experienced woman would leave such words in a book, even in her own library.

  Could the writer have been the Khanar’s daughter? Tyrena, was it?

  While not new, the paper didn’t look that ancient … but how many young women had access to the library over the years? On the other hand, how many would dare to leave such an incriminating scrap … unless that young woman happened to be untouchable?

  He left the paper in the book and replaced it on the shelf.

  After another quint of searching he did find a volume that recounted the history of Tilbor from the time of Nidar the Great through the time of Eleonyd’s father, who appeared moderately strong, if strangely indifferent. That tome occupied Quaeryt for several glasses, and one phrase particularly caught his attention.

  … though some thought agreeing to it a weakness, the Charter proved to be the basis of the power of the High Holders and led to the relative decline of those holders who did not agree to its terms …

  The only problem was that he couldn’t find much about the Charter, except that it was an agreement between the Khanar and some of the holders of that time. Quaeryt had the feeling that the Charter was one of those events that everyone at the time knew and therefore wrote little about it, only to have the details fade over the years. There was probably a book somewhere, but …

  He shook his head.

  Other books did provide various insights and by the time he needed to leave the library for the day, he thought he had a somewhat better grasp of Tilboran history, at least until the time of Eleonyd.

  When Quaeryt finally entered the mess for supper, he could see far fewer officers-roughly half as many as on Vendrei night-but one was Major Skarpa, who motioned for Quaeryt to join him and another major. “This is Quaeryt. He’s the scholar assistant to the princeps I told you about. Quaeryt, this is Daendyr. He’s in charge of supplies for the r
egiment.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” said Quaeryt as he took the seat across from Skarpa.

  “I’ve never seen a scholar attached to a regiment before.”

  “He’s on the governor’s staff,” Skarpa said. “They had to give him officer status.”

  Daendyr nodded.

  “What have you been doing today?” Skarpa handed the pitcher of amber lager to Quaeryt, who filled his mug.

  “Seeing what was in the Khanar’s library.…”

  “Who reads all that?” asked Daendyr.

  “I’ve read some of them,” admitted Skarpa. “A couple of the books on mounted tactics are good.”

  “Then why didn’t they use them?”

  “The Khanar’s Guard did. They gave us a lot of trouble, even though we outnumbered them.” Skarpa shook his head. “Then, all of a sudden, they just withdrew, and left the Khanar and his militia or whatever they were outside the palace moat and walls. We would have taken them sooner or later, but it was a lot easier that way.”

  “They didn’t have any imagers?” asked Quaeryt. “I heard…”

  “Lord Chayar did something about that. We never heard. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Imagers can only do so much, and that doesn’t change things in a pitched battle.”

  “What about the High Holders?” asked Quaeryt.

  “What about them? They really didn’t fight any more than they had to. The ones here in the south didn’t like the Khanar much. They called him the Pretender or some such.”

  “It sounds like he wasn’t very well-liked anywhere.”

  Daendyr shook his head. “The backwoods and Boran Hills holders liked him, and so did the High Holders around Noira.”

  “The High Holders in the far north don’t count for much. They never have,” countered Skarpa.

  “Where do the sisters fit in?” asked Quaeryt.

  “The sisters?” Daendyr’s face screwed up in puzzlement.

  “Oh … they’re a bunch of spinsters who supposedly poison men who beat their wives,” explained Skarpa. “Something like that, anyway.”