“If there’s a regiment around, they find a way to be open.” Skarpa’s voice was dry. “Especially when other coins are short.”
“What sort of trouble is it? Or should I ask whether it was a woman or a fight?”
“Both. After he left the public room, the fellow decided a local girl—a girl, not a harlot—ought to accommodate him. She was Pharsi. Her mother was nearby.”
“Is he alive?”
“No, sir. Neither are three of his mates.”
“Three?”
“The mother objected. The ranker slugged the mother. The daughter stabbed the ranker in the gut. Three other rankers charged in. So did some Pharsi men. When it was all over, there were four dead rankers, and several injured Pharsi. No one knows who the girl or her mother are.”
“Except she was attractive beyond her years,” said Quaeryt dryly. “I take it the ranker wasn’t from Tilbor or from Solis. Or here in Extela.”
“Piedryn.”
From what Quaeryt knew, that figured. There were almost no Pharsi in the flat croplands around Piedryn, not after Hengyst’s purges of the area. But, of course, that explained in part the Yaran enmity against the Ryntarans, given how many Pharsi lived in Montagne and how many Pharsi relatives Bhayar’s grandfather Lhayar had had, including his wife. “Do you need me to do anything?”
Skarpa shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve had all the majors pass the word, reminding them that Lord Bhayar doesn’t look favorably on mistreating women, especially Pharsi women, and that neither do you nor I. I also said that any ranker who slugged a woman because she wouldn’t bed him—or whatever the reason—deserved what he got.”
“I hope that’s enough. The last thing I want is what happened in Tilbor.” Quaeryt shook his head, even thinking about the idiocy of the first governor after the conquest. He’d razed part of the city because the Pharsi women used their knives on some of the invading Telaryn soldiers after the troopers had been warned not to molest the women. The carnage and the disruption had cost the governor his position … and possibly his life, later, if some rumors were true. “Especially in Bhayar’s ancestral home.”
“I told them that, too. They’ll get the word across.”
Given Skarpa’s discipline, Quaeryt was certain of that. “Have you had a chance to think about candidates for the Civic Patrol chief?”
“There are two senior captains who might be suitable,” said Skarpa. “One’s in Second Battalion. Major Aluin says that Captain Hrehn comes from Ilyum—that’s a town to the southwest of here. He’s less than four months from being stipended. You’ve seen him—the big, gray-haired captain. I saw him lift the end of a wagon once so his company could change a wheel.”
Quaeryt remembered the captain, and he could see that Hrehn would definitely have physical presence.
“The other is Pharyl. He’s got almost six months before a stipend. He’s from Montagne, and Major Aluin thinks he might work out.”
“Would you mind if I took both of them with me tomorrow? Since they’re both from around here, I could ask each for their opinions, and their recommendations.”
The commander nodded. “That might be best. How are the patrollers coming?”
“I’ll see shortly. I’m not that impressed so far.”
“They won’t be as good as the best rankers.”
“I’ll have to find a way to make them that good—or one of your captains will.” After the briefest pause, Quaeryt asked, “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No, and I hope there won’t be.”
So did Quaeryt.
After Skarpa left, Quaeryt grabbed the map he’d worked with on Meredi afternoon and hurried out to the courtyard, where a ranker had the mare saddled and waiting. He mounted and rode over to where Captain Eleryt waited.
“Ready, sir?”
Quaeryt nodded. They had less than two quints to get to the patroller station, and he worried about being late. Not that anyone would call him on it, but he needed to set the example … and he still needed to write up a code for the Civic Patrol.
“Company! Forward!”
Neither Quaeryt nor Eleryt spoke until they were well away from the post and the gates had closed behind the end of the company.
“Like the other days, sir? One squad to stay at the patrol station, and the others to patrol their sections of the city?”
“Exactly the same. I hope we can start the patrollers taking over some of that before long.”
“The men don’t mind, and they like it better than training all the time.”
“I suppose they do. They can see something beside the post.” Such as women. Quaeryt didn’t voice that thought.
He rode for another half quint before he noticed several women—more than several—ahead on the sidewalk to his right … before some of the shops that had been open for the past week or so.
“Governor!”
Quaeryt looked to see who had called out, and realized it was the older woman standing slightly out from the others—close to half a score of other women, some older, and some younger. Almost all were dark-haired and honey-skinned, a shade slightly darker than that of Vaelora’s complexion. He gestured to Eleryt and reined up.
“Yes?”
The woman who had stepped forward followed the salutation with a brief phrase in Pharsi, one Quaeryt recognized.
He answered with one of the few phrases he recalled from childhood, and then said in Tellan, “I was orphaned young, and that is all I recall.”
“You are a lost one, then, in more ways than one.”
“So it has been said.”
“Why do you let your soldiers attack our girls?”
“What he did was forbidden. She and you defended her honor. No one will come after you, and I will make certain that the few soldiers who did not understand will know to leave you alone. Most do. The man who attacked the girl was from Piedryn.”
One of the younger women spat into the gutter … demonstratively.
The older woman nodded. “It is said that you listen and that you are fair.”
Quaeryt understood what she meant—that she expected him to keep his word. “I will do what I said. There are more than a thousand soldiers. Most will be gone in two months, and I have already ordered my officers to remind their men about Pharsi women. I cannot promise that every single one of them will be wise in the ways of Pharsi women.”
The woman nodded once more, then spoke the single Pharsi word that meant acknowledgment, thanks, and an end to the conversation.
Quaeryt replied with a nod.
The women all turned and moved away.
Quaeryt gestured to Eleryt.
“Forward!” Then the captain eased his mount closer to the mare. “Sir … if I might ask…”
“Last night…” Quaeryt went on to explain what Skarpa had told him. “… and the commander and I decided that to pursue the Pharsi women would be a very bad idea, especially after what happened in Tilbora under the first governor.”
“Sir … I understood that. But … she addressed you in Pharsi … and called you a lost one. But you’re blond…”
Quaeryt laughed softly. “I was orphaned as a very young child, so young I was barely able to speak. I knew I was an orphan, but I didn’t know I was Pharsi until less than a year ago.” He recalled that moment in the produce factorage when Hailae had spoken to him in Pharsi and proclaimed him a lost one … and wondered how he could have forgotten it, even for a moment. “Until then, I had no idea. Like you, I thought all Pharsi were dark-haired or at least had brown hair. So did everyone else. Blond Pharsi are called the ‘lost ones.’ Why, I don’t know. There’s some sort of legend, but I’ve never heard it.”
“Lord Bhayar has some Pharsi ancestors, it’s said.”
“He does, but he didn’t know I was Pharsi until after I knew.”
“Lost ones … I’ve never heard of that.”
“Neither did I.” Quaeryt kept his tone light. “And I thought I�
��d found myself.”
Eleryt smiled.
As they continued to ride toward the patrol station, Quaeryt saw the streets were cleaner, and that the ash was largely gone. He glanced toward the truncated peak that was Mount Extel. While he saw a waviness in the sky above the mountain that suggested the air there was warmer, he couldn’t make out any sign of more ash.
As the bells from the nearest anomen finished ringing out seventh glass, Quaeryt dismounted and hurried into the still-uncompleted patrol station. A quick look across the waiting patrollers, actually drawn up in five groups, each headed by one of the patrollers first, heartened him somewhat. More than somewhat, when he realized that four of the groups held twelve patrollers each, eleven plus a first. The fifth group held ten.
“Governor, sir,” offered Jaramyr, stepping forward slightly from the smaller group. “We’ve been passing the word that the patrol’s being re-formed. Some of the other patrollers came back. They didn’t know. I have their names for you, sir.”
“Excellent,” replied Quaeryt. “It appears as though you’ve grouped the men in terms of patrols under a patroller first.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve also listed each patrol here. You can change them as you see fit.…”
Quaeryt nodded. “We’ll see about that as matters progress. Did the old patrol operate with eight-man patrols under a first? Or was it twenty under a first?”
“Twenty, sir. There were eight patrols, and each had two squads, one for the day shift, and one for the night shift.”
“But you weren’t at full strength, were you?”
There was the slightest pause, as if Jaramyr were considering how to reply, before he said, “No, sir. There were supposed to be eight patrols, but we had six patrols and five extra men.”
Quaeryt waited.
“… and most of the patrols had fifteen or sixteen men,” the patroller first finished.
“Were you ever told why?”
“The chief said that he only received enough golds for that many patrollers.”
Quaeryt snorted.
The faintest look of puzzlement crossed Jaramyr’s face.
“I can tell you without even any records that the chief received enough golds for eight patrols. I’d also wager that whatever patrols covered the governor’s square were at full strength.”
A faint smile was the response Quaeryt got, followed by, “I wouldn’t take that wager, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I’d also wager that the former chief and his captains likely survived the eruption and were not seen soon after.”
“Captain Hrolar and most of the two patrols he summoned were killed trying to warn people. The others … we never saw them.”
Sometimes the exception does prove the rule. “I’m very sorry to hear that about Captain Hrolar.”
“Yes, sir. He was a good captain.”
From Jaramyr’s tone, Quaeryt could easy infer that the other captain or captains were not all that good.
“There are a number of things we need to take care of this morning. I’d like to start by meeting with the patrollers first about which patrols should be assigned to which parts of the city and rotation patterns. While we’re discussing that, I’d like each of the patrols to meet and come up with a listing of what equipment or gear that they need—at a minimum.”
For the next glass, after passing word to their patrols, the five patrollers first and Quaeryt went over the map he’d brought. Several made corrections to streets and alleyways, but in the end they’d worked out a tentative plan for patrolling. Then he asked for suggestions on inclusions in the code for patrollers, before having each patrol leader return to his patrol and gather equipment requests.
Once they returned and he’d finished noting those requests, he asked, “Are there any questions?”
“Not about what you said, sir,” replied Yuell, who looked to be the youngest of the patrollers first. “We heard there was a problem between some Pharsi girls and some soldiers … what are we supposed to do about that?”
“The ranker who attacked the woman is dead. I doubt there will be many more problems like that. Rankers have to obey the laws just like everyone else.” He thought about saying something about coming to him if there were too many rankers to press a point, but decided against it. Then he caught the sharp glances between Chelsyr and another patroller first—Uhlen, he recalled—and added, “I’m very well aware that some of Lord Bhayar’s ancestors were Pharsi … and that he doesn’t like women being forced—especially Pharsi women. I don’t either, and neither will whoever becomes patrol chief.” He smiled the cold smile. “Are there any other questions?”
“Do you know when we’ll have a patrol chief, sir?” asked Waollyt.
“I’m still working on that. One way or another it won’t be too long.”
“Sir…” began Uhlen, “if other patrollers who were patrollers want to join the patrol … what should we say?”
“Tell them that you’ll have to ask me—or the new chief. Before we make a decision, I’d like to hear what the patrollers first have to say about that man … and I’d like to know why he didn’t show up the way everyone else did.”
That brought nods from the group.
After almost another glass, he released the patrollers first to go over the possible patrols with their men. He also gave the patrollers first the discretion as to when to release their men, as well as noting that he expected everyone present at seventh glass on Vendrei. Then he departed with the single squad detailed to escort him.
Quaeryt rode back through the gates to the post at roughly two quints before the ten bells marking noon would ring out. Vaelora was waiting for him in a narrow wedge of shade on the north side of the stable.
After he dismounted, he led the mare over to where she stood. “How did your explorations go?”
“I’ll tell you on the ride.” Vaelora grimaced. “I wish we didn’t have to visit a High Holder in riding garb.”
“We don’t have a coach, and even if we did, I don’t think I’d want to take it over the east bridge at the moment.”
“Another loss to the mountain,” she said ruefully. “I’m sure Governor Scythn had a coach.”
“Among many other things.”
“You don’t like him, and you never met him.” After a moment she added slyly, “I cannot imagine why.”
“Neither can I, except that it might have something to do with his handiwork. I just found out this morning that it appears that he allowed the patrol chief to pocket the pay of what amounted to two patrols.” He paused. “We need to ride out as soon as I water the mare and the squads are ready.”
“Squads?”
“The one that escorted you, and the one that escorted me. Skarpa doesn’t want us going anywhere with less than half a company, especially outside of Extela.”
Even so, it was a good quint past noon before they left the post and headed for the east river bridge. Because Dhaeryn had not been able to locate any large timbers, the repairs so far had been limited to rebuilding and reinforcing the stone piers. That was another reason why Quaeryt needed to talk to Thysor, because, from what Quaeryt had been able to determine, Thysor was the closest High Holder with extensive timberlands.
As they rode into the area of Extela that Quaeryt had come to realize held a number of Pharsi shops, factorages, and homes, he saw several women turn, inclining their heads to Vaelora in respect. He knew that because he saw the lips of several murmur words about the Nameless “blessing the lady.”
He said nothing about that until they were crossing the square on the west side of the river, just before the bridge. “You have more than a few admirers.”
“On this side of Extela.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone would indicate anything else, even on the west side.”
“Let us just say that many on the west side are more reserved.”
“After all these years?”
“Especially after all these
years.”
Quaeryt understood. That had always been the problem the Pharsi faced. Because they were intelligent and worked harder than anyone else, they were successful. Very few people really wanted to attribute success just to hard work, and so they blamed it on cliquishness and conspiracy. Then when the Yaran warlords had married Pharsi women, Quaeryt had no doubt the marriages had “proved” the nefarious motives of the Pharsi clans.
Quaeryt could see engineers working on the middle pier of the bridge, but not on the piers closest to the riverbanks. “It looks like Dhaeryn and the engineers have the end piers on each side largely repaired.”
“The planks and timbers don’t look that solid,” observed Vaelora.
As before, they ended up crossing the bridge in single file, widely spaced, and it took more than two quints to get both squads across.
Once they were on the main road, on the way to the crossroads where they would turn south, Vaelora asked, “How is the rebuilding of the patrol station coming?”
“I’m hopeful it will be usable by sometime next week. It’s likely to be ready before the patrollers are.” After a moment, he asked, “What have you discovered?” He tried not to sound wary or skeptical.
“There’s one dwelling that might serve. It’s more like a villa than a proper Extelan house. The factor who owned it died, and his daughter wants to sell it.” Vaelora shook her head. “It’s large enough, but it’s been empty for a year…”
“Furnishings?”
Vaelora shook her head. “A few pieces, but even they’d need work before you’d trust them.”
“What does she want for it?”
“Five hundred golds. The repairs would cost at least fifty, and furnishings…” Vaelora shook her head.
“We can’t…” Quaeryt paused.
“You were going to say, dearest?”
“I was going to say that we couldn’t afford that, but I realized that the governor can, since the villa will serve as well for whoever else is governor, and five hundred golds is not that expensive for a permanent residence.”
“Later governors will not be so modest.”
“That will be their problem, but it could also serve as the residence of the princeps.”
Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio Page 25