Scholar ip-4

by L. E. Modesitt

  “Do you know how long you will be … posted here as Master Scholar?”

  “No. Neither the princeps nor the governor has said.”

  “You have named me as acting princeps…”

  Quaeryt understood. “You think that I should formalize who will be in charge in my absence?”

  “It would make matters clearer.”

  Quaeryt smiled faintly. “I can and will write out a plan of succession, but it will be good only with the approval of the governor. It will also only be good for one year after my permanent departure. After that, as in every other scholarium in Telaryn, the Master Scholar must be approved by a majority of the scholars over the age of thirty. I trust that will suffice.”

  “Ah … yes, sir.”

  “I will also make your position as scholar princeps official, but you will continue as preceptor of students as well.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’m glad you brought it up.” And Quaeryt was. What Nalakyn had suggested was something Quaeryt should have done earlier, just to give the scholarium the best chance of survival if anything happened to him. “One other thing-I’m also working on a set of principles for the scholarium. When I’ve finished the first draft, I’d like your thoughts about any additions or changes you’d like me to consider.”

  “Yes, sir. I’d be happy to look it over. Perhaps Yullyd…”

  “I’ll have him look at it as well.”

  Quaeryt didn’t have much more to say, and they were almost at the anomen. He just walked in and stood on the left side, about halfway back. Even so, when Cyrethyn appeared, his eyes flicked to Quaeryt, and the chorister gave the faintest of nods.

  As usual, Quaeryt did not sing out loudly, but watched the scholars and students. More than a few cast glances in his direction. When the time came for the homily, he waited, wondering if Cyrethyn would deliver what he suggested.

  After the opening for the homily, the chorister left no doubt.

  “Earlier this week, I visited the Master Scholar. I owe this homily to him. He raised a question that I never heard stated so directly. Can an honest man be evil? Or can he do evil while being honest? My immediate thought was that such was not possible. Yet the more I thought about it, the less convinced I became. What if such a man were honestly convinced that what he did was for the best? Could he not tell the honest truth and still do evil?

  “We do not think this is possible because in the life most of us live, we cannot be evil and lie. If you ask the miller if he has given you fair value, he cannot cheat you and give honest reply. Nor can the weaver give you cloth with a thread count that cheats you without lying, if he is asked. But what of those we cannot ask? What of those whose words are true, yet whose actions in accord with those words lead to evil?

  “A holder tells his tenants that they must give more of their crop yield to him because his costs have risen. He tells the truth, but is that increased tariff not evil for those tenants? The lord of a land goes to battle, saying the battle is necessary. Even if he tells the truth, does that battle not cause evil for many who are innocent? The words and the names are spoken in truth. Yet evil follows.

  “In a similar fashion, that is why Naming can be so evil. We can name a person or a thing honestly, but the name we give it, and the respect we pay that name, conceals its evil. The glory of battle and the tales of heroism conceal the evil of the deaths of young men who believed they were doing right … or doing what they had to do, trying to survive. Increasing one’s profits honestly, if one is a merchant or a factor, is said to be good. If he does so by increasing his prices, that is an honest act, done openly. Yet if those who must buy his goods are poor and in bad times, that honest act is evil for them, even as it may be necessary for the merchant to keep his shop.

  “Likewise, is blind honesty always good? Is it good to tell an elderly widow or a scholar in failing health that death stands waiting …

  “Claiming that one is honest when one ignores the results of such honesty is indeed a form of Naming. Why? Because the very word ‘honesty,’ like Naming, places the word above the action and the results of that action…”

  As he stood there, listening, Quaeryt was troubled by the homily.

  75

  On Lundi, Quaeryt completed the statement of policies and the document of succession and dispatched a copy to Straesyr with a letter noting that it clearly fell within the princeps’s authority since it was a nonmilitary matter. Then, early on Mardi morning, a student rushed into the dining hall and halted at the table where Quaeryt sat with Yullyd and Nalakyn.

  “Sir, there are soldiers riding up the lane.” The youth’s voice cracked with the last words.

  Quaeryt stood immediately. “How many?”

  “Not all that many. About as many as are here now. Twenty or twenty-five?”

  “Then … it’s not bad news for the scholarium. It might just be a message for me.” Quaeryt offered a smile he didn’t feel to the other two. “If you’ll excuse me…”

  “You’ll let us know?” asked Nalakyn nervously.

  “As soon as I can.” Quaeryt walked swiftly out of the dining hall and then to the front porch. He arrived just as a squad leader, followed by his men, reined up short of the steps.

  “Scholar, sir … You’re Scholar Quaeryt, are you not?”

  “The very same, Squad Leader.”

  “Yes, sir.” The squad leader paused, then said, “The governor requests that you accompany us to join him in the campaign against the hill holders.”

  “What’s happened?” Quaeryt had several thoughts on the possibilities. With Zarxes’s and Alkiabys’s disappearance through the secret tunnel, neither the hill holder revolt nor Rescalyn’s summons surprised him greatly. He’d half-anticipated that something would happen sooner, but the delay suggested that the hill holders had spent some time organizing and that Rescalyn faced a combined force. Then, that was only his surmise.

  “The hill holders have gathered an army. They killed most of one company on a patrol and have besieged Boralieu.”

  To Quaeryt, that made little sense unless they’d also declared that their quarrel was with the governor or Lord Bhayar and they were urging others to rise against Telaryn. But he doubted that the squad leader would know those details. “What about Rheusyd and second squad? Are they to remain or to join us?”

  “They are also to accompany us.”

  “Are we going back to the palace or are we to meet the governor on the road?”

  “He was leaving the Telaryn Palace when we did. We’re to rejoin the force on the road.”

  “I need to tell Rheusyd and his men and gather some gear. I won’t be long.”

  By the time Quaeryt reentered the building, both Yullyd and Nalakyn were standing in the foyer. They both looked at him inquisitively. He gestured toward the Master Scholar’s study, and they followed him.

  Once inside, with the door shut, he turned. “The hill holders have revolted…” He went on to explain, then added, “You’re Master Scholar in my absence, Nalakyn. Yullyd, you’re the scholar princeps. While nothing is certain, I think it likely that, whatever happens, the scholarium will continue. If the rebels prevail-which is most unlikely-they will wish it. If the governor wins, he certainly won’t shut it down.”

  “What … about you … sir?” asked Nalakyn.

  “I’ve always served Lord Bhayar and the governor. What happens in the next month or so will determine how I serve them in the future. In the meantime, you two have to carry on.” Quaeryt grinned. “And make sure you charge new students the new fees.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Yullyd.

  “I need to gather my gear and talk to Rheusyd. I’m going to leave some clothing here.” Such as dress and undress jackets and a set of good browns.

  Since Rheusyd wasn’t in the dining hall, Quaeryt hurried upstairs, gathered a second set of browns and other items together, including the worn green uniform shirt, and put them in the circular kit bag they had arrived
in, then hurried back to the main floor. As he left the building for the stable, Quaeryt saw Lankyt waiting on the rear porch, a worried expression on his face. Recalling what he had told the young man on Samedi, he couldn’t help but suspect that Lankyt would be even more worried about the future of the scholarium. Lankyt’s fears were justified, despite what Quaeryt had told Nalakyn and Yullyd, because, if anything happened to Quaeryt, while the scholarium would likely remain, who would be left to stand up for the scholars and students against the past not-so-benign neglect of the governor?

  “Sir?”

  “I’ve been recalled to duty with the governor’s forces. The hill holders have attacked the post at Boralieu.”

  “They’ve rebelled?” Lankyt’s voice held incredulity.

  “They wouldn’t call it such,” replied Quaeryt dryly. “I don’t think that they’ve ever believed they owed allegiance to any ruler. They always bargained with the Khanar or ignored him, and the governor has shown that Lord Bhayar won’t be bargained with or ignored.” Even if it has been a while coming.

  “They couldn’t have done this because the governor sent you here. They couldn’t.”

  “That was just the excuse they were looking for. They’ve been attacking the patrols out of Boralieu for years.” But they think that Rescalyn double-crossed them over the Ecoliae when his “agreement” with Phaeryn was just designed to set matters up the way Rescalyn wanted it. It was more than clear to Quaeryt that Rescalyn had promised not to dismantle the Ecoliae so long as the scholars refrained from overt action against the Telaryn Palace-effectively setting up the hill holders as the prime source of opposition, suiting Rescalyn’s long-term plans perfectly.

  “Will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lankyt looked down, then raised his eyes. “Best of fortune, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt smiled warmly, then hurried toward the stables to find Rheusyd.

  Less than a half glass later, Quaeryt rode near the head of the two squads beside Lharym, the leader of the squad sent to fetch Quaeryt. The scholar’s gear fit easily behind his saddle.

  “They’ll be taking the river road for a good twenty milles,” offered Lharym.

  Quaeryt nodded, forbearing to note that he’d traveled that route twice before. “Do you know if the rebel holders sent any word or declaration to the governor?”

  “No, sir. I don’t. Captain Theyn didn’t, either.”

  “Has anyone said how many rebels there are under arms?”

  “Thousands … that’s the word.”

  If there were thousands, a lot of them weren’t likely to be all that well trained, unlike Rescalyn’s “regiment.” But then, Quaeryt reflected, he could be wrong in that assessment.

  Almost a glass went by before Quaeryt rode up to the command group, not quite at the front of the long column riding northwest on the river road.

  “Scholar! Over here!” Rescalyn’s voice boomed over the sounds of men and mounts.

  As Quaeryt rode toward the governor, he had to admit that, especially on horseback, Rescalyn was a commanding figure, erect in the saddle and radiating confidence.

  “Governor, I’m reporting as you requested.”

  “You made haste.” Rescalyn smiled. “Even with that leg of yours, you’d make a good cavalry officer.” He gestured. “Ride with me.”

  Quaeryt guided the mare alongside the larger black gelding ridden by the governor, noting that the rankers and officers before and behind them moved away, giving Rescalyn space.

  “It appears that your efforts to convince the local scholars to abandon their opposition to Lord Bhayar are about to bear fruit-the bitter kind.”

  “Sir?” Quaeryt was fairly certain he knew what was coming.

  “Young Waerfyl, Saentaryn, Demotyl, and Huisfyl have declared their independence from Telaryn. They claim that the imposition of a foreign scholar over the true scholars of Tilbor is an absolute confirmation of the fact that Telaryn intends to destroy all independence of belief and thought in Tilbor. They are the ones who sent the message with a wounded ranker, but they claim other holders have also joined them. Since you precipitated this fracture, I thought you should participate in the aftermath.” Rescalyn smiled warmly.

  Quaeryt debated for a moment, then spoke. “I’m glad I was able to bring about what you’ve been seeking, sir.”

  Rescalyn’s momentary frown vanished almost immediately. Then he laughed. “You’re far more than a scholar, Master Quaeryt. How did you deduce that?”

  “The size of the regiment, the extra companies in each battalion, the rotation so that every company saw action against the hill holders, the building of outposts that also held more troops, the recruiting and training of Tilborans … things like that.”

  “Why do you think I did all that?”

  Quaeryt knew full well, but he offered half the answer. “A standard regiment wouldn’t suffice against the hill holders. You and the princeps and some of the officers have all indicated, as did the documents I studied, that good as the Khanar’s Guard was, it wasn’t sufficient to take on the hill holders. Until they’re broken, Tilbor won’t ever be a secure province.”

  “You deduced this in less than two months with no experience in Tilbor before?”

  “I think I knew after about a month-certainly after getting wounded.”

  “What did Bhayar really send you for?”

  Quaeryt laughed, if ruefully. “To get me out of his hair, sir. He said I asked too many questions, and that I needed to spend time seeing what good governors do. He did say that, if I could find a way to effectively reduce the number of troops in Tilbor to free them for other uses, such a solution would be welcome. From what I can see, the only way to do that is to defeat and destroy the hill holders-or at least all the leaders and their holds.”

  “We do agree on that.”

  “Have I misunderstood anything?” asked Quaeryt.

  The governor shook his head. “Once we near battle, you will accompany one of Major Skarpa’s captains so that you can see matters close at hand and testify as to the results of what good governors do. You do not have to fight, nor to act against the hill rebels, but you must be close enough to see what happens and be able to report to Lord Bhayar.”

  Close enough to be killed without being ordered to fight. “I had thought that might be the case, sir.”

  “Tell me. Why does Lord Bhayar’s sister write you?”

  “That, I cannot honestly say. I met her once, and we talked for less than a half a quint. I never saw her again. Given my position, of course, I cannot afford not to reply with as much length and wit as I can muster.”

  “I can see that.” Rescalyn laughed again. “We have a long ride ahead and time. Tell me. What do you think you have accomplished with the scholars?”

  “I’ve put a true scholar in charge, and a no-nonsense scholar who was also the bursar in place as the scholar princeps. I put forth a set of principles, and I’ve talked to factors who are now interested in having their children be schooled there. I found that a few of your junior officers were taught there, and, if the scholarium continues, more may be as well. The education will be improved, with more Bovarian being taught and more history. For some reason,” Quaeryt said sardonically, “not much history was being taught. Those steps are being taken already. I’ve also thought about teaching more mathematics and practical science…”

  “That would be good. Officers need to know that. What else?”

  “I abolished the teaching of Sansang. I didn’t have a chance to replace that with something less … subversive.”

  “Just teach them half-staff work. It’s useful, and the training develops coordination.…”

  Quaeryt listened, knowing that he had a long, long ride ahead of him, and one on which he would need to watch every word as he tried to convince Rescalyn that he was bright … but not too bright.

  76

  A day and a half later, Quaeryt was still riding with Rescalyn, af
ter a fashion. Although the governor spent more time with Commander Myskyl than with Quaeryt, he returned intermittently to ride with the scholar and even talked to him occasionally, but almost never with any warning, even if his voice was nearly always hearty and cheerful. That heartiness was beginning to irritate Quaeryt. Then that might have been because the governor was never less than always perfectly in command and cheerful, even when no one was looking.

  The afternoon wasn’t as hot as midsummer, but it was still sultry. Quaeryt’s undershirt stuck to his back, and his legs were sore because he’d hardly been riding for the past week, and little enough since he’d returned to Tilbora. The column was headed straight west, possibly less than ten milles from the last line of hills that formed the eastern edge of the valley that held Boralieu.

  Abruptly, Rescalyn asked, “Did you actually read all the papers from the Khanar’s document room?”

  “Yes. Well … some of them I just skimmed over after I read the first part.”

  “Why?”

  “Because documents can tell you what it might take years to discover through experience. I was trying to determine if the Khanars had the same sort of difficulties with the hill holders as you have had.”

  “Did they?”

  “It seemed much the same, except there was a kind of bribery on both sides, and less fighting. But then, the hill holders couldn’t claim, not in the eyes of most Tilborans, that the Khanar was an outsider.”

  “Do you really trust what was written?”

  “Even when someone isn’t writing everything, or they’re glossing over things, or misrepresenting them, if you read enough, you can tell things by the way they’re written or by what’s not there.”

  “Are you Bhayar’s spymaster or one of his top assistant spymasters?”

  After a moment, when he was truly surprised, Quaeryt laughed. “No. If he has a spymaster, I have no idea who it is.”

  “Then why are you here? Why would he send you here?”

  “Why not? He likes me, or doesn’t dislike me. He’s known me since we were students, and he was getting tired of my questions. He’s worried about the amount of troops required here, and he doesn’t want to leave Solis right now because he’s also worried about what Kharst might do. If I can’t tell him, then there’s no harm done, and he has several months without me around.”