Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I had thought that, actually. If we can work matters out.” Vaelora smiled.

  And the greatest working-out will be between us. He returned the smile.

  Another glass passed before they reached the severe iron gates to Thyhyem, gates attached to modest reddish black brick pillars, and flanked by walls that extended less than two yards on each side of the gates. Beyond the walls on each side was a thick hedgerow. There was no gatehouse and no guard.

  Even on a second visit, Thyhyem wasn’t exactly what Quaeryt expected, not with the mille-long flat graveled entry drive flanked by ancient and massive oaks, although in places there were younger oaks, clearly replacement trees, but even those were scarcely saplings, or anything close. The hold house itself was of two levels, also of the reddish black brick and formed a V, with the entry portico at the point of the V.

  Thysor stood on the wide brick expanse in front of the brick pillars that supported the portico roof that sheltered the entry to the long dwelling.

  “Greetings!” offered the High Holder as Vaelora and Quaeryt dismounted. “Refreshments await your men and the mounts in the north courtyard.” Thysor gestured to his left.

  “Thank you,” replied Quaeryt, after handing the mare’s reins to a ranker and extending the hand to Vaelora that she didn’t need to dismount.

  They walked up the three steps to join the holder.

  “Governor Quaeryt,” offered Thysor, his eyes going to Vaelora, “and Lady Vaelora. I always told your brother that you’d grow up to be both intelligent and beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you offered more than beauty as a compliment,” returned Vaelora. “Yet how would you know, since you’ve not seen me in years?”

  Thysor laughed. “Your husband is a scholar … and a governor. Your brother has followed his father’s example. The more closely related someone is to him, the more he expects. The governor is your husband and, if I understand matters correctly, had to prove himself in a number of ways. You were known as extraordinarily bright as a child, and you had the habit of tactfully puncturing vanity even then. Therefore…” The silver-haired High Holder shrugged, but his eyes smiled.

  Vaelora offered a warm smile. “And you, Thysor, would have liked to flirt with every pretty girl and woman, but contented yourself with charming young girls. I can see some things have not changed.”

  The interaction between the two was a quick reminder to Quaeryt that he’d become part of a very small circle, about which he knew next to nothing—except for Bhayar’s family.

  “My dear lady … I would not dare. Already, the word has spread that your husband has single-handedly restored basic order in Extela.”

  “That’s rather easy to do with a full regiment at your back,” suggested Quaeryt mildly.

  “It only seems so,” replied Thysor. “But do come in. We can talk of that and other matters over refreshments and light fare.” He paused. “I do presume you are not here for a mere courtesy call, Governor.”

  “For courtesy, but not just for that.”

  “I do appreciate the courtesy,” replied Thysor as he guided them between the brick pillars and to the open but plain goldenwood double doors, “and your interest in more than courtesy. Your predecessor emphasized courtesy to the exclusion of all else … or so it seemed from this side of the river.”

  “Especially courtesy to his own coffers, it appears more and more,” replied Quaeryt, hoping for a response from Thysor.

  “That is a common failing among governors, one reason, no doubt, you were appointed.” His voice turned wry as he continued. “It’s also a failing not unknown to High Holders, as I suspect you’ve discovered.”

  Quaeryt wasn’t certain if Thysor already knew about Wystgahl, and he wasn’t about to ask. He just said, “Greed is common enough among all, I fear.”

  “So it is.”

  The entry hall through which they walked was square, with off-white plastered walls above goldenwood wainscoting, and a pair of portraits, one a woman, on the north wall, and the other a man, on the south wall. Neither resembled Thysor.

  The High Holder led them through the receiving hall to another circular chamber, from which two corridors branched, one at an angle to the left and the other at the same angle to the right. At the back of the circular hall was an archway, with open double doors, toward which Thysor continued. Beyond the archway was an expansive chamber.

  “Chaelyna is awaiting us in the salon. It is a treat to have visitors. We see so few, as far as we are from Extela.” Thysor halted at the archway, gestured for them to enter, and then followed, smoothly moving up beside Vaelora.

  Quaeryt surveyed the salon quickly, noting the wall of windows to the west, overlooking a private garden, with each window having dark gauzy hangings, most likely to mitigate the light of the late-afternoon sunlight, especially in summer, and heavier ochre draperies as well, for cold winter evenings. Set directly before the center windows was a table, already set for four.

  The slightly stocky dark-haired woman who rose from the settee on the immediate right, while perhaps a good ten years older than Quaeryt, was certainly at least that amount younger than the High Holder. She offered a cheerful smile.

  “Dear … Governor Quaeryt and his wife Vaelora. You might remember her.” Thysor’s eyes twinkled.

  “Chayar’s youngest. My … how beautiful you are … and married, no less.”

  “Only since the first of the year,” replied Vaelora.

  Thysor gestured to the chairs and the settee facing the one before which Chaelyna stood. Vaelora settled onto the settee in such a fashion that both women seated themselves at the same instant. Quaeryt was not quite as deft as his wife, but not so far off that it was noticeable.

  “Shall we dispense with the less courteous aspect of your visit first, so that we may enjoy your company?” asked the High Holder.

  Quaeryt couldn’t help smiling at the way in which Thysor had framed matters, with the implication that the “less courteous aspect” still needed to be handled courteously and tactfully. “I may have been misinformed, but I gathered that you have extensive timberlands…”

  “Do not tell me that the governor is becoming a timber factor…” Thysor laughed. “Pardon my little jokes. I notice that you have men working on the east river bridge. You are looking for heavy timbers and planks?”

  “I am. At present, what remains of the span can barely hold a single mount at a time.”

  “What terms are you asking?”

  “Your cost for the timber, plus a profit of one part in ten.”

  “And you would trust my costs?” Thysor raised his eyebrows.

  “I trust everyone … until they abuse that trust. For some, I have trusted them only once.”

  Thysor looked not at Quaeryt, but to Vaelora. “Is it wise to abuse the governor’s trust?”

  “No … because he holds it as an abuse of Lord Bhayar’s trust.”

  “Pardon me, if I ask a personal question, Lady. Did the governor serve Lord Bhayar before you married him?”

  Vaelora laughed. “He has known Bhayar since I was little more than a babe, and he served as an advisor and more, most lately as princeps of Tilbor. He did not seek my hand. Lord Bhayar insisted that I wed him.”

  Thysor’s eyes returned to Quaeryt. “Then you are high in Bhayar’s estimation, and your accomplishments must be many, or you would not be a governor, coming from a background as a scholar.”

  Quaeryt smiled wryly. “There is no way that I can reply to that without seeming either excessively overweening or falsely modest.”

  “I think you just did.” Thysor chuckled.

  Across the table, Chaelyna smiled as well, but did not speak.

  The High Holder’s eyes lighted on Vaelora. “Again … my pardon, but you do not act as many women do when a marriage is arranged without their consent. Nor do your glances at your husband suggest indifference.”

  “I do believe, High Holder,” replied Vaelora with a light laugh, “that w
e should discuss such matters after those of lesser courtesy.”

  “So we should.” Thysor’s voice and expression were both warm. He turned back to Quaeryt. “Seeing as you are who you are, and seeing as you are neither attempting to buy my favor by acceding to an exorbitant price, nor that of the mob, by forcing a sale on which I would lose golds, I will accept your terms. Your men can meet with my timbermaster tomorrow if they so wish.”

  “I will send Major Heireg and Major Dhaeryn to see him.”

  “Excellent.” Thysor smiled broadly. “Then we can talk over more pleasant matters, and we can learn more about both of you.”

  “I had hoped to learn more about you,” replied Quaeryt. “and what you can tell me about Extela and Montagne.”

  “I could not tell you half so much as could your lovely wife.”

  “I have not been in Extela in years. You have so much more experience than do we,” replied Vaelora. “And experience is what enables understanding…”

  “Then we will trade anecdotes,” suggested Chaelyna, “but I do think we should repair to the table. Talking can be such a thirsty business, and you must taste last year’s ice wine. It is delectable, all because of Thysor’s care and hard-won knowledge. He won’t say that himself, but I can.” As she rose from the settee, she glanced to Vaelora. “As I am certain you can say much about the governor that he is far too modest to disclose himself.”

  As he stood with the others, Quaeryt knew he would have to force himself to keep his thoughts on the social side of the afternoon, much as he wished he could have departed earlier, if only so that he could get to work writing up the code for the Civic Patrol.

  Except this is work, and necessary. Especially after the mess with Wystgahl, you need more High Holders who will support you … or not oppose you.

  He smiled again, even as he wished that Wystgahl had been half as courteous as Thysor or at least as practical as Chaffetz.

  32

  In the end, Quaeryt and Vaelora spent close to four glasses with Thysor and Chaelyna, among the most pleasant four glasses Quaeryt had ever spent with a High Holder. As a result, they didn’t return to the post until well after the evening meal, and it was almost dark by the time they retired to their quarters. Both moons were already high in the sky, on a warmish evening that foreshadowed the heat of late spring and summer.

  “I’m sorry we missed the evening meal,” said Quaeryt as he closed the door.

  “I’m not,” replied Vaelora. “We had far better fare with afternoon refreshments … and delightful conversation.”

  “Do you think he’ll attempt to cut corners on the timber?”

  “No. He’s charming, and he’s been very successful. He’ll earn every copper he can, to the last letter of any agreement. He won’t cheat you, outright or indirectly.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He’s sharp. He knows you’re powerful. He doesn’t know why or how. You’re also close to Bhayar. Upsetting a young, ambitious, powerful, and well-connected man is dangerous, especially when that young man has guaranteed a profit. By doing it that way, whether you intended it or not, you told him that you wouldn’t cheat him, but that you’d destroy him if he cheated you.”

  Quaeryt laughed softly. “I didn’t—”

  “You did, dearest, and you know it.” Vaelora grinned at her husband.

  “I wasn’t intimating destruction.”

  “Whether or not you would go that far doesn’t matter. He knows you could, and it was deftly done, honestly and directly. He appreciated your tact.”

  “I’m glad you—and Thysor—found my approach tactful. Or was it merely honest and direct?”

  “You were indirectly direct, which is best in situations such as these.” Vaelora sat down on the end of the bed.

  “I’m used to being indirect when I’ve been the one receiving the orders or instructions, but I don’t have that much practice at getting my point across indirectly without seeming either arrogant or weak.”

  “No one would ever guess. Just don’t worry too much about it.”

  “I don’t when I’m dealing with officers or patrollers, but the number of times I’ve dealt from a basis of power with High Holders I could count on my fingers.” He paused. “Look at what happened with Wystgahl.”

  “That would have happened to any governor in that situation. Most would have handled it with greater difficulty.”

  Quaeryt certainly hoped he’d done as well as he could, but didn’t see much point in belaboring his concerns. “How does your brother view the High Holders? It’s not a question I was in a position to ask, and I never observed him with any.”

  “He is wary of any of them.”

  “They can’t do that much to him … unless they unite, and I’ve not seen any evidence that many are dissatisfied.”

  “Most of them trust no one. That’s because only one son can inherit. More than a few older sons have met their end in strange accidents. They’re always looking over their shoulders. They can’t help but wonder if Bhayar might be conspiring with a younger brother, especially if they think they’ve displeased Bhayar … or their father. You saw that with Wystgahl. So few High Holders tell Bhayar any more than they must. Except for the handful who wish to use Bhayar to gain an advantage over other High Holders, most avoid him except at functions and other gatherings that are largely ceremonial.”

  “Do you think that’s why Aramyn was so cordial to us?”

  “I feel that he was doing exactly what his actions implied. He was viewed unfavorably by Father, and he wants to change that. Because you weren’t unreasonable, it won’t even cost him anything … only a chance of forgoing a bit more profit … and that wouldn’t even be certain.”

  “So why was Wystgahl so belligerent? I offered him the same terms.”

  “I can’t say.” Vaelora shook her head. “Except that he was greedy and stupid.”

  “Could it be that all that rebuilding overextended him? And that he saw the chance to make a greater profit on his grain and other crops? He had to use his own people, but when lien-tenants are doing stonework, they’re not planting or harvesting.”

  “That’s possible, but I couldn’t say.”

  He smiled and asked, “If you would tell me more about the dwelling that might be suitable…”

  “It’s more like a villa. I told you that. It has a large main level, and only master sleeping quarters and the like on the upper level. The entire rear is a walled garden, but the walls are brick. They need much work. The garden is hopelessly overgrown. The interior looks solid, but every wall needs paint or plaster. There aren’t any paneled walls at all, except for the main study. There’s very little wood, either, except for the built-in bookcases in the main study. It might rather be called a library.…” Vaelora looked at Quaeryt.

  “It sounds like there’s a fair amount of work to be done.”

  “A great number of small things and several large ones, such as oiling all the outside wood, repairing and straightening most of the shutters…”

  As Vaelora went through the list, Quaeryt nodded occasionally, torn between admiring her for all that she had noted and trying not to show the sense of being totally appalled at what needed to be done—and what that would likely cost. Yet they couldn’t stay in the officers’ quarters forever.

  33

  Vendrei morning saw Vaelora off to take another look at the old villa that might possibly be suitable, while Quaeryt met again with Skarpa and then Dhaeryn before awaiting the arrival of the two captains suggested by the commander.

  They both entered the small study together, Quaeryt gestured for them to sit down, then asked, “Did Commander Skarpa explain why I wanted to meet both of you?”

  “Yes, sir,” offered Pharyl politely.

  The taller and more massive Hrehn nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  The two exchanged glances. Then Hrehn spoke. His voice was a light baritone. “He said you wanted two experienced captains t
o come with you and look over the remaining civic patrollers and give you our opinions.”

  “That’s true. I’d like to see what you two think.”

  “Might I ask why you—or the commander—picked us?” asked Pharyl. His eyes centered on Quaeryt.

  “I asked him for captains who had the most time dealing directly with rankers.” That was certainly true enough, reflected Quaeryt. “I don’t have that kind of day-to-day experience with patrollers … or rankers.”

  “What can you tell us, sir, if you don’t mind, before we see these patrollers?” asked Pharyl, wiry and shorter, with jet-black hair.

  Hrehn nodded once again.

  “Right now there are about half the former patrollers remaining,” Quaeryt began. “Neither the chief nor the captains can be found. According to the patrollers first still in Extela, the one good captain was killed in the ash storm, along with several patrollers. He was trying to help people escape the eruption. The other captain … no one wants to say anything about him. The chief diverted the equivalent of twenty men’s pay into his own wallet, as well as a disproportionate amount of the funds provided for Civic Patrol expenses. No one knows whether he died in the ash storm or scuttled away. The engineers are converting an unused factorage into Civic Patrol headquarters because the old one is buried under the ash and lava. The patrollers first have organized the remaining patrollers into five half-strength patrols. I have my opinions, but I’d like you two to accompany me this morning. After we return, I’d like your thoughts before I make any more decisions.”

  The two exchanged glances once more.

  “We can do that, sir,” replied Hrehn.

  Quaeryt had the sense that both suspected more than mere opinion was likely to be involved, but he wanted to see just how perceptive the two might be. “We might as well get started. We’ll ride over to the patrol station, and if you have any more questions, you can ask them on the way.”

  Neither captain said a word more, but followed Quaeryt outside into the courtyard. They’d clearly expected to accompany him, because their mounts were waiting with his, as was a company from First Battalion, led by Undercaptain Sengh.