“Did you study to be a chorister before you became a scholar, sir?”
Quaeryt had a good idea from where that question had come, but he only smiled. “I studied history. You can’t learn about history without learning about Rholan and how the worship of the Nameless has affected the lands of Lydar.”
“And you never were interested in becoming a chorister?”
“I actually left the scholars and spent years before the mast as an apprentice quartermaster. That convinced me I’d rather be a scholar. How did you come to be an undercaptain?”
“I had three older brothers. They were better smiths than I was…”
For much of the rest of the ride, Quaeryt asked questions about Skeryl himself, but the kind designed to reveal as much about Tilbor as the undercaptain. He also worked, as he could, on maintaining and improving his shields. After riding, with breaks, some four and a half glasses, they reached the entry to High Holder Fhaedyrk’s estate-far less imposing than that of Freunyt, and far more chill in its hilly location. Quaeryt was glad to have worn the undress brown jacket over his regular browns, given the wind gusting downhill.
The gateposts were about the same size as those of Freunyt’s entry, but the iron gates were narrower and painted black, and the gatehouse barely large enough to hold the single guard who waved them through, while the paved lane was only wide enough for a single carriage or wagon. No gardens flanked the lane, just meadows with shaggy grasses that had turned the tan brown of fall. The meadows sloped north and upward to the mansion, and behind the dwelling were forests that extended to and over a ridge perhaps a mille uphill of the estate buildings. The main dwelling was of two levels, its walls of a mixture of natural stones, not dressed or cut, with a square tower at the west end, and extended perhaps seventy yards from one end to the other.
As Quaeryt and the squad neared the mansion, he made out a covered entry that extended to the paved lane, but not over it. A long waist-high hedge bordered the lane on the side away from the entry, extending some thirty yards on each side, but there were no gardens in front of the hedge, although the grass had been rough-cut to ankle height.
A wiry blond figure stepped out and halfway down the five wide stone steps, waiting. He wore a brown leather vest, with tooled designs on the leather, pressed brown trousers, and polished brown boots. His shirt was golden yellow and of shining silk.
Quaeryt reined up short of the entry. “Greetings, sir.”
“Greetings, master scholar, and welcome to Dyrkholm.” The High Holder turned his eyes to Skeryl. “The stables and quarters for resting are the second buildings in the upper side courtyard, Captain. My head ostler is waiting for you. You can water and feed your mounts, as you see fit, and there are refreshments for you and your men.”
Skeryl bowed in the saddle. “Our thanks and appreciation, sir.”
Fhaedyrk nodded, then turned. “Master scholar … again, welcome to Dyrkholm.”
Quaeryt hurriedly dismounted, then handed the mare’s reins to the ranker who rode forward.
“I will send word to you, Captain, when the scholar is ready to depart.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt walked to the steps, stopped at the bottom, and inclined his head. “High Holder.”
“Fhaedyrk, if you please. And you are Quaeryt? Fitting name for a scholar. Come.”
Quaeryt joined the wiry holder who had appeared shorter than the scholar but turned out to be the same height as they walked through the wide single door of the mansion into a smallish oblong entry foyer, with two staircases, one heading up to the east and one to the west, and then straight back into a modest hallway floored with cut and polished natural stones set in mortar, with a green bordered dark gray carpet runner in the middle.
“I trust you do not mind if my wife joins us for a light meal.”
“I’d be delighted.” Quaeryt didn’t have to counterfeit his pleasure; he had no doubts that Fhaedyrk’s wife was most likely to be as intelligent and perceptive as the High Holder, or she would not have been included.
The High Holder stopped at the last door on the right-already open-and gestured. “This is the summer parlor-that’s what Laekyna calls it.” He extended an arm to the slightly stocky blond woman standing beside the circular table located in a windowed nook and set for three. “Don’t you, dear?”
Laekyna smiled, and her entire face came alive. For some reason, although the two looked not at all alike, for that moment, the High Holder’s wife reminded Quaeryt of Vaelora. “He does make fun of me, master scholar, but it is the most pleasant room in the summer.”
“Any room is pleasant with you in it, dear.”
Quaeryt could not miss the obvious affection in word and expression, and it cheered him, even as he warned himself that a man could love his wife and still be a foe not to be trusted.
Fhaedyrk gestured to the table. “We took the liberty of preparing some light fare for you, knowing how far you have ridden.” He seated himself in the middle place, and Laekyna was already standing before the place to his right.
Quaeryt took the chair to the High Holder’s left and sat down. “You’re very kind.”
“It was kind of the princeps and governor to send you. Few wish to travel far from Tilbora. I thought we might begin with a cool potato soup.”
As Fhaedyrk spoke, a server appeared with a dish and a ladle and began to fill the bowls, set on green porcelain chargers. A second server appeared and placed dark rolls on the small plates beside the chargers.
“The rolls are sweet dark rolls with honeyed raisins. The raisins come from our lower vineyards. I can offer lager, white or red wine, or grape or berry juice.”
“What would you recommend?”
“I’m actually going to have lager.”
“Fhaedyrk’s lager is the best in Tilbor,” added Laekyna.
“Then I’ll have the lager.”
After one swallow, Quaeryt agreed. “It’s not just the best lager in Tilbor; it’s the best I’ve had anywhere.”
“You see, dearest,” said Laekyna. “I told you so.”
Just from what was clearly the first course, Quaeryt would not have considered the fare “light” by any means, but suspected the time and terminology had been set for reasons of custom. If asked by other High Holders, Fhaedyrk could say, with perfect honesty, that he had met with Quaeryt in midafternoon and offered light refreshments to the assistant to the princeps, as was only courtesy after such a long ride.
“How was the ride?”
“Pleasant as four-glass rides go. Most of the time, there was a breeze, and that helped.”
“Except in the winter,” commented Fhaedyrk wryly. “It’s usually a gale then.”
“Are your winters here as bitter as in the north?”
“They’re often more bitter, or so we’re told,” replied Laekyna. “It has to do with the way the hills channel the winds.”
Quaeryt sensed that the meal was for light conversation and held the questions he had in mind. The main course was a meat pie, but the crust was so flaky and the sauce so light that it didn’t feel heavy at all.
“You must try the berry custard-it’s Laekyna’s special recipe.”
“My aunt’s actually.”
“This is your version, and it’s better.”
Quaeryt needed no urging. When he finished the last tasty spoonful of the custard, he turned to Laekyna. “That was excellent. I’ve never tasted better.”
Laekyna smiled, and blushed slightly. “Thank you.”
“I told you,” added Fhaedyrk proudly. After the slightest pause, he said, “I had not thought to find the assistant to the princeps to be a scholar.”
Quaeryt understood. He also saw that Laekyna was studying him as well.
“I’m from Solis, sir, and I was raised and educated there, but Lord Bhayar sent me here.”
“Might I ask why?”
“He expressed concerns about the number of soldiers it takes to keep order. I made the mist
ake of asking if the people of Tilbor were so different that they needed more order imposed by arms … or words to that effect. He said that I asked too many questions and sent me off.”
Both listeners smiled.
“What have you discovered?”
“From what I’ve seen, except for the hill holders, the people and High Holders of Tilbor are a most orderly group that want to get on with their own lives.” Quaeryt paused slightly. “Recently, it’s come to my attention that some of the scholars may not be what they claim. What is your opinion on that?”
“I would scarcely be in a position to judge that.”
“I can understand your reticence to comment, sir, especially given your … shall we say … strained relations with the scholars at the Ecoliae…”
“So far as I know, I have no relations with them.” Fhaedyrk’s voice turned cool.
Laekyna continued to hold a pleasant expression.
“Exactly.” Quaeryt smiled. “Nor would anyone in your position, especially, wish to have any relations with them.”
“My position?”
“Governor Fhayt was ambushed and nearly killed coming to visit you. The local scholars have attempted to have you killed at least once, and possibly more often.”
“You have quite an imagination, especially for a scholar.”
“Do I?” Quaeryt smiled again. “You also seemed to be one of the few High Holders who actually dared to put into writing in letters to Khanar Eleonyd reasonable observations about the source of Tilbor’s prosperity. You’re a very far-seeing and practical man. That’s one of the many reasons I requested a meeting with you.”
“How did you know about my letters, might I ask?”
“I read through the Khanars’ archives of the past several years when I first came to Tilbor. It took some time.”
“All of them?” asked Laekyna.
“I do not know what was not in the archives. There was an entire chamber. I read all that was there.”
Fhaedyrk laughed. “I doubt Khanar Eleonyd read a fraction of what you did.”
“Then did Khanara Tyrena?”
“I’m sure that she did,” said Laekyna. “Her father, despite all the rumors, relied on her heavily.”
Fhaedyrk and his wife exchanged a momentary glance.
“You have traveled a great way, master scholar. Why? Surely not merely to meet me.”
“Because you are a far-seeing and practical man, I wanted your thoughts on a matter.”
“Oh? Even the governor has not so openly sought my thoughts.”
“I’m not the governor. I’m just a scholar assistant to the princeps attempting to find ways to make Tilbor even more peaceful.”
“How might I have anything to do with that?”
Quaeryt decided, for the moment, to ignore the direct thrust of the question. “Let us assume, for the moment, that Lord Bhayar would like the scholars in Telaryn to continue to provide schools and teaching. Yet in Tilbor, there are rumors that certain scholars have more of an interest in supporting those who would rather cause unrest. What course of action might preserve the abilities of the scholars to teach while removing their involvement with those who are little more than brigands with lands?”
“You are most kind in your assessment of the hill holders.” The sarcasm was delivered gently.
“I am perhaps not impartial. I accompanied a patrol through the hills to seek poachers who were plaguing a High Holder. We attacked no one, not until we were attacked. I took a crossbow quarrel in the shoulder from men who appeared to be minions of a holder Waerfyl. Later, after I recovered, I accompanied another patrol following two wagons full of coal stolen from another High Holder’s mine-where a number of miners were killed. In both cases, the men of the hill holder attacked the lands and men of High Holders. That scarcely seems like a protest against Lord Bhayar. Then I recently discovered that certain scholars were involved in actions that might have been construed as undermining the Khanara.” Quaeryt looked to Laekyna.
She nodded. “There have been rumors of such. They were more than rumors. So what does this have to do with us?”
“I was curious as to whether you had any idea who was behind the attack on Governor Fhayt and why the only time any governor has been attacked when coming to visit a High Holder happened to occur on a visit to you.”
“I doubt there is any proof anywhere as to the identity of the attackers. Yet inquiries have suggested that a certain Sansang master has often been absent from the Ecoliae at the time of certain disruptions.”
Laekyna’s eyes hardened just a fraction as her husband spoke.
“Because I am a scholar, and because scholars have sometimes behaved unwisely, I find myself in an awkward position. I would like the scholars to be able to study and teach and be accepted, but it appears this would be difficult in Tilbor.”
“It would appear so.” Fhaedyrk turned to his wife.
“I cannot speak for anyone, master scholar, let alone my husband, but as a poor humble wife, I can see no course of action that would accomplish those ends while the Master Scholar and his princeps remain in charge of the Ecoliae. I will admit that, because my older brother was educated for a year or so at the Ecoliae, I believe Scholar Nalakyn is deeply committed to teaching and little more, and there are others of similar persuasion. Yet for any High Holder to remove either by force … many would find that repulsive and high-handed. For a High Holder even to suggest it … or mention it…” She shrugged.
“There are times when I give my wife liberty to speak her mind,” said Fhaedyrk, “but those are her thoughts.”
Quaeryt understood the situation all too well. “I understand. You are most considerate in letting her speak her mind. Well … you understand my concerns, and I do believe I understand yours. Oh … I might also add that the princeps was most impressed with your insight about the source of Tilbor’s wealth, and he asked me to convey that appreciation to you.”
“That was most kind of him.”
“He is much quieter than the governor, but there are depths under that calm.” Quaeryt smiled as he turned to Laekyna. “As is often the case.”
“Before you go … master scholar … you must try a taste of our best brandy.”
“I cannot imagine how good that must be, given the excellence of what you called simple fare.” Quaeryt shook his head. “I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed the meal and the afternoon.” And he had … and hoped they both understood that.
67
Quaeryt was more than glad for the “light fare” provided by Fhaedyrk, because he and Skeryl and the squad didn’t return to the palace until after eighth glass on Meredi night. Although he was exhausted from holding shields almost all of the way back, it was close to midnight before he finally got to sleep. After breakfast on Jeudi morning, he made his way to his study, where he wrote his weekly dispatch to Bhayar, and then started in on another letter to Vaelora, spurred in part, he had to admit, by the strange similarity of expression between Laekyna and Bhayar’s sister.
Are you sure you’re not recalling what you wish to recall?
That was a question for which he had no answer, because, as in so many things, he just did not know. What he did know was that he needed to write her again, for more than one reason.
Mistress Vaelora-
Over the past week I have met with two High Holders, and both were very respectful of the governor. Unfortunately, neither was especially pleased with the views expressed by the local community of scholars, and in particular, both were displeased with rumors about the acts of a very few senior scholars. As a result, tomorrow I will be making an official visit to the Ecoliae, with a company of cavalry at my back. The governor, the princeps, and I all hope that such a force is unnecessary, but it appears as though there may be certain ties between some of the more senior scholars and the hill holders who have created continual difficulties for the governor.
This situation, unhappily, reinforces my belief that scholars se
rve best when seen as advisors and sources of information. An advisor who is perceived as an instrument of action, either for or against a ruler, whether or not that perception is correct, loses the imprimatur of impartiality, just as an administrator or governor who acts in his own interests, rather than in the interests of the lord of the land, loses the lord’s trust. Scholars are more vulnerable, alas, because we lack the power of those who can marshal arms, men, or golds. That is why it is important that any perception of illicit acts be removed as soon as practicable. This must be accomplished in an open manner, while limiting the corrective actions to those who are indeed guilty of such transgressions. I can only hope that I can be of some service to both Lord Bhayar and the honest scholars in this matter.
In your earlier missives, you had discussed the role of those who advise, and the limitations and circumstances that affect how such advice may be received, but I fear the greatest limitation may be that of distance, except, of course, when the advice is lacking in quality and thought, and then distance becomes a blessing … but I hope that my distance from you and Lord Bhayar never becomes that particular blessing.…
After attempting humorous comments on advice, Quaeryt added a few lines about the weather and Vaelora’s kindness in continuing the correspondence, then closed and sealed the letter.
At just before the third glass of the afternoon, Vhorym summoned Quaeryt to the princeps’s study. As the scholar entered, Straesyr motioned for him to close the door and sit down. Quaeryt did both … and waited to see what the princeps had to say. Not for the first time, Quaeryt had the feeling that Straesyr wore his tunic and trousers-both always crisp-as if they constituted a uniform.
“You are going to see the scholars tomorrow-with a company at your back. This may create certain difficulties, but then, as you have pointed out, the scholars have created a host of other problems. While neither the governor nor I anticipate your having difficulty with the scholars, you are empowered to act with the authority of a battalion major if anything should go awry. If there are significant difficulties, you are not to hesitate to use that authority.”
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