“Getting them to smoke elveweed, most likely.”
“Are the pleasure houses still open?”
“They never closed. They never do. Except for the fancy one in the northwest quarter. It was just two blocks from the governor’s square.”
“Then there’s likely to be a new one somewhere in the west part of the city before long … if it’s not there already.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for it.”
“What else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” asked Pharyl sardonically.
Quaeryt laughed, briefly, then said, “There is one more thing.” He handed a list to the chief, a copy of the one he’d jotted down after meeting with Aextyl. “These are factors here in Extela about whom the former high justicer, possibly the last honest one, had some concerns. As you can find out from the patrollers and others, anything you can learn might be helpful.”
“Might take a while.”
“That’s why you’re getting it now.”
Pharyl nodded.
As soon as the chief left, Quaeryt hurried out to round up an escort to ride out to Hyleor’s dwelling once more—since the trader apparently had no other place of business. He hoped the factor would be there, because he really didn’t want to ride out on Samedi … although he would if he had to.
Two men were unloading a small high-wheeled wagon, carrying sacks into a shed at the rear of the dwelling, when Quaeryt approached the house, with a front garden surrounded by a waist-high brick wall topped with ironwork spikes on every post. The ends of the spikes would have been chest-high on Quaeryt. He frowned. For a tall man to fall on one was not impossible … but it was unlikely. Still, all the reports confirmed that Versoryn had attacked the trooper with a long knife and tried to gut the man’s mount. After a moment, Quaeryt rode down the narrow rutted drive at the side, where he reined up and dismounted, handing the mare’s reins to the ranker who had accompanied him.
The burly man, several digits taller than Quaeryt and broader as well, with heavy-lidded eyes, a fleshy face, and shiny black hair—presumably Hyleor himself—turned and waited.
“Trader Hyleor?”
“Who else?” His eyes flicked from Quaeryt to the ranker, and then to the squad of troopers drawn up in the street at the end of the drive. After a moment he studied Quaeryt. “A visit from the governor himself. What a surprise.” The sardonic tone to his words was as heavy as the man himself.
“I came by earlier, but I understand you were traveling.”
“You waited long enough. I had business.”
“I’m sure you did. So did I.”
Hyleor waited, as if challenging Quaeryt to speak.
Quaeryt didn’t mind, but he did let the silence draw out for a bit. “My troopers reported that a gang of men tried to attack you.”
“Tried? They dragged me away from the wagon and into the street. They laid whips on me. If that was just trying, I’d not want to know what succeeding might be.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“I’d never seen any one of them before that.”
“Then why do you suppose they attacked you?”
“Who knows?” Hyleor’s snort was accompanied by an expression close to a sneer. “Rumors, I’d guess. Everyone thinks spice and herb traders trade in elveweed and curamyn … or worse. We’re the last ones who do that.”
“The last ones?”
“Everyone thinks we do. We get stopped and searched by the governors’ men—or Lord Bhayar’s—in every province. They never find anything. That’s because we know we’ll get searched, and it’s not worth the danger.”
“There’s no law against it.”
“Law? Who said anything about law? I suppose you’ve released that little snot your men caught. Too bad he didn’t suffer the same sort of ‘accident’ his brother did.”
“How did you know they were brothers?”
“It would have been hard to ignore. He was screaming that the troopers killed his brother. He kept yelling about it until they gagged him and carted him off. You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one,” replied Quaeryt pleasantly.
“Did you release him?”
“He’s still locked up. I wanted to talk to you about testifying in the hearing on Lundi.”
“Your men saw it all. You don’t need me. I’m the one who got whipped. I didn’t even know who they were until your men showed up and I saw the one lying on the fence spike. Besides, I’m headed to Solis tomorrow.”
“I could require you to stay.”
“You do that, and I’ll have all the factors’ councils protesting to Lord Bhayar.”
Quaeryt shrugged. “The brother will have an advocate representing him, and without your presence…”
“That’s your problem, Governor, not mine. Now … if you’ll excuse me…” Hyleor turned away and walked toward the wagon.
After a moment Quaeryt turned and mounted, then rode back up the drive to rejoin the squad. As he rode back to the post, Quaeryt had to admit that he was amazed at Hyleor’s arrogance and effrontery, but he hadn’t really wanted to throw a factor—even one of dubious reputation—into one of the Civic Patrol gaol cells. But why doesn’t he want to testify? Because he doesn’t want to get on the bad side of a High Holder and his bastard son?
Either way, Hyleor’s attitude was going to make life more difficult for Quaeryt.
It was half past four when Vaelora returned to the post, and Quaeryt was waiting in the courtyard as she dismounted. She wasn’t smiling, and he decided not to ask anything. He just smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“It’s not as if I’d been traveling to Solis and returned.” Her voice was edgy. “It feels that way. It took me half the day to arrange for linens—bed linens, towels, table linens, napkins … even blankets. Half a day! I could have done it in a glass or two in Solis.”
Quaeryt nodded, not wanting to point out the obvious—that they weren’t in Solis, but in a much smaller city recently devastated by an eruption and earth tremors. “I know. It’s much harder to get things accomplished here.”
“Everything is an endless chore!”
“It does feel that way.”
“Stop humoring me. You sound more condescending than Aunt Nerya at her worst.”
“I do understand. I’m paying more for timbers, and they take longer to mill. I can’t find an honest justicer … and I just got a dispatch from your brother.”
Vaelora looked ready to snap back at Quaeryt until she heard his last news. “What’s the matter?”
“Let’s go up to our quarters, and I’ll tell you. It’s not terrible, but it’s not as good as it could be.”
“Tell me now.”
“In the quarters.”
“Fine.”
Quaeryt didn’t bother to hide his wince at the coldness of her tone. Unless he could calm Vaelora down, it was likely to be a long evening. He had to walk quickly to keep up with her as she marched across the courtyard and up the outside stairs. The heel of the boot on his bad left leg caught on one of the steps, and he barely caught himself.
Vaelora didn’t even look in his direction.
Only when the quarters door was shut did she turn. “Well?”
“You don’t have to shout at me,” he said quietly.
“I hate it when you get that condescending tone in your voice. And then you refuse to tell me…”
“Did you ever think that I’d rather not say what he wrote in the courtyard with troopers all around?”
“You still didn’t have to be so condescending.”
“I shouldn’t have been.”
“No … you shouldn’t, not with everything I’ve gone through today. And Grelyana showed up at the villa. She was so falsely sweet, and it was as though you and I had tortured her for those few pieces of furniture, and she wasn’t using them. They would have dry-rotted away in the cellars of her palace. There was so much dust on them. That’s where they had t
o have come from because they were so filthy.…”
Quaeryt listened for close to a quint before saying a word, deciding against mentioning what Aextyl had said about Grelyana as Vaelora moved on to detailing other problems. Then, when she paused, he said, “Bhayar requires Third Regiment leave Extela no later than the sixteenth of Mayas, but they have to be ready to ride out on notice from him any day after the fifteenth of Avryl.”
“That’s only ten days away! The bridge isn’t finished. The residence won’t be ready. You can’t find trustworthy guards that soon…”
“The Bovarians are moving thousands of troops toward Ferravyl.” From Bhayar’s dispatch, Quaeryt didn’t know the precise number, but it had to be thousands, if not more, given that there were already thousands of Telaryn troops already there.
“Oh…”
By the time they headed down to dinner, Vaelora was at least talking in a level, if slightly cool, tone of voice, and she was charming to the officers in the mess.
Quaeryt still knew it would be a long night, and he hadn’t even mentioned his problems with Hyleor and justicing.
40
By late on Vendrei evening, Vaelora’s coolness had warmed, and on Samedi, Quaeryt arranged for Vhalsyr to be transferred from the post brig to a cell at the Civic Patrol gaol. Then he and Vaelora both accompanied the contingent of troopers to the market squares and watched the sale of flour and potatoes. What struck Quaeryt was the range of people who came to purchase the goods, from those who appeared barely able to scrape together the coppers necessary to those who wore good linens and fine wool garments. That suggested to him that the prices he’d set were the lowest available, and that he might need to raise them before long.
Later on Samedi, both Vaelora and Quaeryt spent time at the villa, and on Solayi, Quaeryt read through another third of Ekyrd’s treatise, concentrating on the procedures for handling a justicer’s hearing … and the recommended sentences for various offenses. After that he managed, somehow, to come up with another homily—this one on vanity, how the excesses of attire, either being too elaborate or putting on a pretense of not caring, were both forms of Naming.
Vaelora left the post on Lundi morning to meet with Shenna and a group of women who provided goods to the poor, so that she could work with them to provide some of the coppers from the offerings at the anomen to the most deserving women, before going to the villa and looking into possible furnishings. After she departed, Quaeryt met with Jhalyt and Heireg to complete the final transfer of twelve hundred golds to Factoria Grelyana, then rode over to the patrol station, accompanied by a squad he likely didn’t need, as well as the four troopers who’d been mostly involved in the incident between Versoryn and Hyleor. He doubted he needed that many troopers, since he’d continued to be most scrupulous in his use of and practice with his shields, but Skarpa felt the escort of a full squad was necessary.
While he didn’t relish the idea of being a justicer, he also couldn’t put off the hearings, not with Vhalsyr’s “uncle” getting involved, if through an advocate, not to mention the limited number of cells available or the fact that Hyleor refused to testify. He wasn’t looking forward to conducting any of the hearings, not at all, but he was especially dreading the one for Vhalsyr.
Pharyl came out to greet him at two quints before eighth glass, and the two walked back to the larger of the two studies in the building.
“The hearing room is ready, and I posted the notices where we could, and on the board outside. I put Vhalsyr first. His advocate has already been in to talk to him. He’s still there.” The chief looked quizzically at Quaeryt.
“You’re still wondering why I’m going ahead with the hearings? Because I don’t see any good justicers coming along anytime soon, and I don’t want people saying that we’re just locking people up and throwing away the key, especially High Holder Cransyr. Also, if some of them are innocent, unlikely as that may be, we don’t want them locked away any longer than necessary. Also … since Hyleor isn’t likely to show up, you may have trouble proving that Vhalsyr actually assaulted anyone.”
“I’ve thought of that. If the patrollers had arrested him, that could be a problem. The older patrollers have the attitude that anyone they bring in is guilty. Since Vhalsyr was caught by troopers … if it turns out that way, it won’t be quite that bad.”
“The patrollers are likely right about that. Vhalsyr’s guilty. I know that. So do you, but proving it with a High Holder’s advocate defending him and ready to report any irregularity is another question.”
“For the other three … what range of sentences are possible?” asked Pharyl. “Are they like in the regiment?”
Quaeryt realized, belatedly, that Pharyl was probably less aware of nonmilitary justicing than Quaeryt himself. The half blind leading the blind. “The possible sentences for conviction of lesser offenses—the first time—are various degrees of flogging and imprisonment, plus branding on the back of the hand for anything but misdemeanors such as public nuisances or drunken disorderliness. For a second conviction, much more of the same. A third offense merits death. Are any of the three branded?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s a relief. Can we get a branding iron made?”
“Ah … I took the liberty of asking around. I found an old one in an ironmonger’s. It’s Ryntaran, though, with the fancy ‘C.’”
“If necessary, that will have to do … for now.” And something else needing to be done. In recent years, most justicers had required differing brands—a “T” for theft, “A” for assault, and “F” for forgery or fraud—rather than general “C” for crime or criminal, regardless of the specific type of offense.
“The man who was assaulted wants to beg mercy for the fellow who attacked him.”
Quaeryt almost asked why the man hadn’t asked for the charges just to be dropped, but realized from his quick and intense study of the law treatise that charges could only be dismissed by a justicer after hearing the case—because all too often pleas to dismiss charges were offered by the victim in fear of retribution or because of threats to the victim or the victim’s family.
After discussing the procedures for a time, Quaeryt just walked into the chamber and to the dais, where he seated himself behind the simple, almost crude, stained table desk. “The justicing hearing in the city of Extela, the province of Montagne, will commence. I am Governor Quaeryt, acting as justicer. The first hearing is the matter of Vahlsyr Brennasyn, charged with assaulting a factor and troopers of Telaryn in the course of their duties.”
Immediately, a short stocky man attired in a black robe over his regular garb stepped forward. “Caesyt Klaesyn, representing the accused.”
“Pharyl, Chief of the Civic Patrol, representing the city of Extela.”
“Very well. Bring in the accused.”
Two patrollers marched in Vhalsyr, his hands before him in leather restraints, and positioned him directly before Quaeryt. Caesyt stepped up beside Vhalsyr.
“You are charged with two counts of assault. The first count is that of dragging the factor Hyleor Cylonsyn from his dwelling and place of business and attacking him with various weapons, including knives and whips. The second count is that of attacking the troopers of the Third Tilboran Regiment in the course of their duties.” Quaeryt paused. “How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Honorable Justicer,” said Caesyt smoothly.
The patrollers led Vhalsyr to the backless bench below and to the right of Quaeryt.
From there Quaeryt waited as Pharyl called in the first of the four troopers, Melnar. Melnar described the situation, and his description mirrored the one provided by Hyleor.
Pharyl asked a number of questions, then stepped back. “The patrol has no more questions.”
“Do you have questions, Advocate Caesyt?”
“I do indeed, Honorable Justicer.”
Quaeryt nodded.
“Trooper Melnar, at any time did you see the accused with a weapon or holding a wea
pon?”
“There were whips cracking all over the place when we rode up, sir, and the one who fell on the fence had a long knife.”
“We know that Versoryn had weapons, but did the accused have one?”
“He must have. They all did … all of that gang.”
“Did you see him with a weapon in his hand?”
After a long pause, Melnar answered, “No, sir.”
“Did you see him strike Factor Hyleor or anyone else with his hands?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you see him act in any way against anyone else?”
“He started trying to hit the other rankers—and me—when we caught him. He hit me, and he hit Estall.”
“Did he inflict serious damage on any trooper?”
“Sir?”
“Did he hurt any of you?”
“I think Huryk got some bruises, sir.”
“Thank you, trooper.” Caesyt turned to Quaeryt. “I have no more questions for this witness.”
Quaeryt looked to Pharyl. “Call your next witness.”
Estall was the next trooper, and the patterns of testimony and questions—and Estall’s answers—were almost exactly the same as Melnar’s had been. So were the testimonies and answers from the last two troopers, although Huryk insisted that Vhalsyr had to have used a whip because the number of whips matched the number of people present.
“Vhalsyr Brennasyn, step forward,” ordered Pharyl, who waited until Vhalsyr faced Quaeryt before continuing. “Would you please tell the honorable justicer what happened on the night of Vendrei, the thirty-fourth of Maris?”
“Honorable Justicer…” Vhalsyr swallowed, then went on. “My brother told me he wanted to go talk with Factor Hyleor. He said he’d had enough of Hyleor’s shit with the girls, his getting them to smoke elveweed and snort curamyn. I told him that Hyleor was a mean sort. He said he’d take care of that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but I didn’t want him to go alone. Except when we got to a block away, some more guys joined us. They carried whips, and some had knives. I didn’t know any of them. When we got to this house, there was a fellow unloading a little wagon outside the place, and Versoryn, he said that was Hyleor, and they all ran down the drive and wrapped him up with their whips, and dragged him out into the street. I yelled at my brother not to hurt him because he’d get in trouble. He yelled back that Hyleor deserved what he was going to get. Before they could do much, all of a sudden, there were all these troopers riding up. There must have been twenty of them, and they had sabres out. Versoryn, he went crazy, yelling about how Hyleor even had the troopers on his side. He went after one of the rankers or maybe his horse with a knife, and the trooper hit him with his sabre a couple of times. I couldn’t believe it. Everyone else ran, and I didn’t see what happened next. I was still standing there, and the troopers came after me. I tried to run, but they caught me…”
Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio Page 32