Quaeryt dismounted and tied the mare to one of the ornate iron hitching rings, then walked up the four wide black stone steps to the brick-paved and columned portico.
“Dearest…” Vaelora smiled. “I’m glad you could join me. This is Calachyl. He’s the steward for Factoria Grelyana. He’s been showing me through the villa.”
The steward bowed. “Honored Governor.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Calachyl.”
“It is my pleasure, sir. Would you like to see the villa?”
“Yes.”
The steward smiled and gestured for them to follow him.
The double goldenwood doors from the portico could have used oiling and polish, and the iron grilles that protected them showed traces of rust in places. Immediately inside was a square entry hall, some four yards on a side. An archway to the right opened into a small waiting room with windows overlooking the front garden, not that anything green was yet in sight. Opposite the archway was a doorway.
“That is the cloakroom,” gestured the steward, before opening the door, then closing it and moving out of the entry hall. “The receiving parlor is on the right, and the library and study on the left.”
Both chambers were large, five yards wide and close to ten long. Built-in oak bookcases comprised one entire wall of the study—the one backing up to the cloakroom—and in the middle of the outside wall were double doors opening onto the covered rear porch. A similar set of doors in the receiving parlor opened onto the front porch, also covered. Neither chamber held furnishings.
Quaeryt tried to note everything as the steward led them through the villa, showing them the formal dining chamber, the grand salon, the private dining and breakfast room, the kitchens and pantries in the rear, the grand staircase to the upper level, the master suite and bathing and dressing chambers, and six other bedchambers, and two bath chambers, as well as the upper level study for the mistress of the house. By the time they returned to the entry hall, Quaeryt briefly wondered why anyone would sell what he had seen for a mere five hundred golds, but then realized that the dwelling didn’t match what Vaelora had described earlier.
So how much is this? He decided not to ask at that moment. Instead, he concentrated on what Calachyl was saying.
“The servants’ quarters are separate in the building beyond the garden, and there are different cellars below for wines and produce, as well as a strong room.”
“The stable even has quarters above it suitable for your personal guard,” said Vaelora, “and there’s a separate hidden staircase down from the study to the strong room.”
Personal guard? That was another matter he hadn’t even thought about, but should have, since the regiment would be departing in less than a month. With each passing day, there seemed to be something else that being a governor married to Vaelora required of him. How many others would there be that you haven’t even considered?
He wasn’t about to even try to guess.
“I’m glad you thought about that,” he said with a smile. “Tell me more.”
“I will wait outside,” said the steward, bowing and then slipping away.
Quaeryt waited until Calachyl was out of earshot. “I don’t think this is the dwelling you mentioned before.”
“Isn’t it so much better?” asked Vaelora.
“I wouldn’t know. I never saw the other one,” replied Quaeryt dryly.
“Are you angry with me, dearest?”
“Should I be?”
“This is so much better,” Vaelora repeated.
“It might be so much more expensive also.”
“It’s only twelve hundred golds.”
Quaeryt managed not to swallow.
“That’s less than half what it’s worth.”
“So why is it priced that way?”
“Factoria Grelyana moved into a larger dwelling last year and needs the golds. She wants to present the lower price as a favor, but that’s not the reason.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have a few acquaintances left here. I asked them.”
Quaeryt sighed. “Twelve hundred golds is a great deal more than we talked about. More than twice as much. This comes at a time when the provincial treasury isn’t exactly healthy. And we have no furniture and no furnishings.”
“Dearest … I’ve slept in other people’s homes, and in wagons, and inns, and in cramped officers’ quarters. I haven’t said a word. Sooner or later, you or someone will have to build a governor’s residence. Building something like this would likely cost thousands of golds…”
“It likely would,” he replied. “We don’t have that, either.”
“Yes … you do. You have over ten thousand golds in the treasury. You’ll have to use something like three thousand to pay everyone until the end of Mayas, and another five hundred or so for supplies. You’ll start getting tariffs in Juyn. That gives you at least five thousand. Twelve hundred for a governor’s residence isn’t that much.”
“That’s just the beginning,” he pointed out, realizing as he did that she’d remembered everything he’d said about pay and expenses.
“Paying for repairs and cleaning isn’t that expensive.”
“Furnishings?”
“Some of that can wait, if you think it necessary.”
Quaeryt wanted to shake his head. His wife was Bhayar’s sister, and she was going to get her way, especially since Bhayar had already made the point—when he’d insisted on lavish quarters for them in the Telaryn Palace—that Vaelora required “suitable accommodations.”
“The villa we can do,” he conceded. “Beyond basic furnishings for the main bedchamber and the kitchen and the parlor—”
“And the studies,” added Vaelora. “You can’t work without a desk and a few things.”
He nodded. “The golds will have to go to the factoria directly, and we’ll need a document of sale and receipt.”
“I told her that would be necessary if you approved.”
“When I approved,” he corrected her ruefully.
Vaelora raised her eyebrows.
“That is not disrespect, dear,” he replied. “Merely an acknowledgment of what is.” And what will likely be for many years to come.
He didn’t want to dwell on that too deeply at the moment, much as he knew he’d never escape that reality.
34
When he’d reluctantly agreed to the purchase of the villa, Quaeryt realized there would be more than a few details to complete the purchase, and he and Vaelora followed Calachyl to another villa more than a mille away. Except the word “villa” didn’t begin to describe the small three-level palace that lay behind the high black stone walls. Nor was “luxurious” adequate to describe the paneled study to which Calachyl conducted them, a study twice the size of the one in the villa they had just inspected, with goldenwood bookcases, and a deep-pile Chevan carpet covering much of the polished pale green marble floor. The desk and chairs were pale goldenwood, recently and carefully crafted, with deep green cushions.
The woman who greeted them was perhaps a digit or two shorter than Vaelora, but so slender she appeared taller and more angular in the dark green silk jacket and trousers.
“Governor Quaeryt … I am so pleased to meet you.” Factoria Grelyana smiled warmly, although her pale blue eyes remained cool. “I had no idea that the governor would turn out to be the husband of a friend of a close friend of mine.”
“Neither did I,” replied Quaeryt, wondering who was friends with whom as he inclined his head politely to the dark-haired woman who looked to be about his age—ten years or so older than Vaelora.
“I would not, of course, have parted with the old villa so easily, except to such a distinguished personage. But then, it is easier to part with something holding pleasant memories when one knows it will go to someone who knows how to care for it and who will preserve it as it should be.”
“That is certainly our intent, with its character and history,” replied Quaeryt. �
�I would have liked to have seen it furnished, so that we could have followed the same patterns.”
“I am certain that Lady Vaelora’s taste will more than do it justice.”
“I will do what I can,” replied Vaelora. “Still … I would not be surprised if there are several pieces that belong so much to the villa that they do not fit elsewhere. It would be a pity if they did not remain there,” she offered with a caring smile, “now that you know they will be cherished and cared for.”
“I had not thought of that, but it might be possible.”
“I’m certain that Lord Bhayar would appreciate the thoughtfulness of gifts such as those,” added Quaeryt, “especially when he has lost his ancestral home and so much of uncounted value.”
For just an instant, Grelyana’s eyes hardened. “We have all lost much in the recent past, but it is likely that Lord Bhayar has lost the most of a material nature.”
“Given your losses, most honorable factoria, your kindness is especially appreciated,” replied Quaeryt. “I know my wife deeply welcomes your continuing courtesy and friendship. I also appreciate your forbearance, at a time when any increases in tariffs would fall heavily on those who have suffered enough as it is.”
“I will do what I can, Governor. You were princeps of Tilbora, it is said, and most instrumental in returning that unruly place to order.”
“I can claim but a small part in that,” replied Quaeryt.
“I doubt that part was so minor, not for a scholar who has wed the lady who stands at your side … and who has been entrusted with restoring Extela.”
Meaning that it’s too bad you don’t have a fortune of your own and have to haggle over a villa. “I can claim a role in assuring that Lord Bhayar obtained certain silver mines and other rebel property that will replenish the coffers of Telaryn over time.”
“Quaeryt is so very good at discovering … shall we say … wayward golds,” added Vaelora brightly. “My brother was most impressed.”
Grelyana smiled faintly, looking into Quaeryt’s eyes. “One might even say that Lord Bhayar has found in you something lost.”
“Quite true,” replied Quaeryt cheerfully, “although I did not know I’d been lost, because I was orphaned young.”
The factoria shook her head, an expression of amusement on her lips and in her eyes. “There are a number of pieces that should grace the old villa once again, and I am young enough to enjoy observing what will come of what Lord Bhayar has found in uniting you two.”
“We are but a young couple in love and recently married in an unsettled time,” professed Vaelora.
“Your husband may be young in love, Lady Vaelora, but he is old in other ways, as are you, and neither of you would be here in Extela, or in my villa, were those things not so.” Another smile followed. “Would you join me in afternoon refreshments? I am certain that Calachyl and the governor’s chief clerk can work out the details and the documents for conveying the property and making sure no golds are … wayward.”
“Both are most capable, and your steward is the image of devotion and discretion to which my chief clerk could aspire. But then, he has you as an example.” Quaeryt smiled, offering a rueful expression, “an example that the most ardent and accomplished of scholars would find it difficult to capture in mere words … and I am certainly not that skilled in the ways of phrase and word.”
“And yet, Lady Vaelora, your husband’s very words belie what he professes.” Grelyana turned and gestured toward the wide archway. “The east terrace is most pleasant in the early afternoon, and I have some early tomatoes from the hothouse. And the lemon tart is absolutely delicious. You’ve always liked that, Lady Vaelora, from what I recall.”
Quaeryt and Vaelora exchanged glances after the factoria turned. Then Vaelora offered the slightest of shrugs and a grin.
Quaeryt managed not to laugh, but that was the last time he felt that way for several glasses.
Just long conversations and the light refreshments offered by the factoria after the indirect agreement on the purchase of the villa took the rest of the afternoon and gave Quaeryt a headache—which he tried to conceal from Vaelora.
But by the time they returned to the post and Quaeryt had instructed Jhalyt on the necessities regarding the purchase of a governor’s residence—and the clerk seemed not in the slightest bit surprised—the throbbing in Quaeryt’s head had subsided even before he located Skarpa outside the officers’ mess.
“I’m sorry…” he began. “I was called away earlier before I could find you. That’s not the best reason for not telling you immediately that—”
“Pharyl and Hrehn are going to clean up your Civic Patrol?” Skarpa smiled. “It’s better that way. Some officers—and they’re probably not like that, but too many are—start to get too cautious once they’re close to getting a stipend.”
“I did say they’d stay on the rolls.”
“We can do that. They won’t draw pay for that time, but it won’t affect their stipend, and since it won’t, I don’t imagine they’ll complain.”
“I do apologize…”
“Governor, sir … you’ve got more on your platter than you should have.” Skarpa grinned. “And being married to Lord Bhayar’s sister … that has blessings, too, and I’d imagine some of them come from the Namer.”
The reference to the Namer reminded Quaeryt of something else he’d forgotten, that he’d have to come up with a homily for services on Solayi. “She’s beautiful and intelligent, and she cares for me and I for her. I’m most fortunate in that.”
“She was raised in a palace, and you’ll always have to look over your shoulder for her brother. Better you than me, sir.”
Quaeryt shrugged, not quite theatrically, then said, “Now all I have to do is find a justicer.”
“Can’t you act as justicer? Governor Rescalyn did for a bit.”
“If I have to, I will. I’d rather not. Have Dhaeryn and Heireg returned?”
“I haven’t seen either.”
Quaeryt hoped that all had gone well in setting up the procurement of planks and timbers, but if it hadn’t, he’d find out all too soon.
After taking his leave of Skarpa, he rejoined Vaelora in their temporary quarters.
She was sitting on the end of the bed when he closed the door. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. Was it that obvious?”
“Not to Grelyana, I think. Her husband was said to be quiet in social situations.”
“I’m still not used to weighing the indirection of every last word.”
“You were never bad at that, and you’re getting better.”
Quaeryt certainly hoped so.
“Grelyana knows about the lost ones,” observed Vaelora.
“She almost said directly that we were going to upset your brother’s rule and life far beyond what he expects and that she was going to enjoy it. Did he ever do anything to her … or her late husband? I assume her husband’s dead,” Quaeryt added quickly.
“He died five years ago. He never had children by his first wife. Their son is eight…”
“So she’ll be in control…” Quaeryt shook his head. “The factors don’t give the title of factorius or factoria unless it’s earned. That means she’s truly in charge.”
“You think that she created the rumor that she had to sell the older villa at a loss?”
“I don’t think so. I think she wants the thousand golds now because she can do more with the golds than with the villa, and some goodwill from the governor and Lord Bhayar’s sister won’t hurt, either. What does she factor?”
Vaelora frowned. “Metals … copper, tin, and her husband had an ironworks.”
“She had the metals factorage before she married?”
“Oh … you wouldn’t know. She had far more than that. Her family had only daughters, and she married Raansyd the day before the family estate would have gone to her cousin. Raansyd was kind enough, but it was the only way to hold everything. Besides, he needed
her and her family. He was close to losing everything. She saved it all. Well, her family helped some.”
“She’s part Pharsi, then?”
“I don’t know. No one’s ever said, but many of the factoring families here have Pharsi blood. Not quite so many as in Khel.”
“Not quite so many as there once were in Khel,” said Quaeryt dryly.
“Thanks to Rex Kharst … and the Red Death.” She paused. “Is it true that he attacked in the depth of winter after he heard that a third of Khelgror died?”
“I hadn’t heard that before. I wouldn’t put it past him. The plagues tend to die out after cold winters.”
“He must have lost more men to the winter.”
“That didn’t seem to bother him.”
Vaelora shook her head. “Now he wants to use our weakness against us. Have you heard anything else from Bhayar?”
“No. I only got his dispatch on Mardi, and I sent back a report on Meredi. He won’t even have mine until next Lundi night at the earliest, I’d judge. If we get a dispatch now…”
“We’ll be at war—or worse.”
Quaeryt nodded. After a moment, he asked, “Are you pleased with the villa?”
“Oh, yes. It’s big enough for a governor, but not too big…”
He smiled and listened as she began to tell him of her plans.
35
Quaeryt didn’t sleep all that well on Vendrei night, because he kept waking up and asking himself what he’d really gotten himself into. Except it hadn’t been totally his choice, and accepting Bhayar’s decision and marrying his attractive sister hadn’t seemed that onerous. He just hadn’t thought through all the ramifications. You only thought you had.
But when he looked over through the dimness at Vaelora’s sleeping face, he could only smile … and he did finally drift back into slumber.
After a breakfast of overcooked eggs and near rancid and greasy sausages, the idea of eating where Vaelora had some control over the food had even greater appeal, although he suspected it would be weeks before anything like that occurred … and it would likely take more golds than either of them anticipated.
Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio Page 28