“No. You must provide two days’ notice at a minimum, and a week is customary.”
“I think we’ll stick with two days and set it for next Mardi.” Quaeryt frowned. “Do you know where Caesyt has a place of study or advocacy?”
“He used to have a small study on the east side of the south market square. I don’t know that he still does.”
“We’ll have to see. Can I persuade you to join me and advise me on Mardi?”
“I don’t see why not. I’d like to see Caesyt’s face when he catches sight of me.” Aextyl’s smile was close to impish.
“There’s one other matter. Is there anyone here in Extela that you could recommend for me to appoint as a justicer? I shouldn’t be doing this, and I can’t for long, not under the guidance put out by Lord Bhayar.”
“That’s true.” Aextyl’s brow furrowed, and he was silent for a time. “There’s an advocate in Mynawal, a young fellow … well not so young as you. His name is Bieryn … Bieryn Blaksyn. You might talk to him. If I can think of any others … I’ll let you know on Mardi.”
“Thank you.” With a nod, Quaeryt gathered up the papers Aextyl had waiting for him and made his way outside to the waiting mare and escort troopers.
He rode back to the post at a quick trot, because he wanted to catch the chief clerk before he left for the day. He almost didn’t make it, because Jhalyt was leaving the small chamber that had likely once been a storeroom when Quaeryt hurried up.
“Sir? Is there a problem?”
Quaeryt extended the documents. “You don’t have to stay tonight, but I’ll need copies of these three documents as soon as you can manage. By tomorrow afternoon if possible. They have to be word-for-word copies, each line identical to the line in the original.”
“Justicing documents?”
Quaeryt nodded.
“Baharyt’s better at that, sir. Is there any reason he couldn’t do it?”
“None at all, but I want you to proofread them after he’s done, to make sure the copies are exact.”
“I can do that.”
“Also, I’ll need several copies of a hearing notice, but I’ll have to give that to you in the morning, since I haven’t drafted it yet.”
“Yes, sir.” Jhalyt took the documents and carried them back into the chamber, then returned and locked the door with an overlarge and tarnished brass key. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night.”
Quaeryt was getting ready to leave for the villa when Pharyl hurried in.
“Sir … I’m glad I caught you. Would have preferred not to ride out to the villa tonight.”
“That sounds like a problem … What sort?”
“Some toughs smashed the shutters on a cooper’s place, then broke inside. He took a mallet and crushed one’s skull. The other slashed his arm with a knife—blade more like a short sword.”
“The kind that’s too long to carry under the laws of Telaryn?”
Pharyl nodded. “Dead man had one, too. Cooper says that the third fellow had one also. He got away.”
“Are you holding the cooper?”
“No, sir. I told him he’d have to appear when there’s a hearing.”
“Any others that will require a hearing?”
“One other. So far. Things are getting back toward the way they were, according to the patroller firsts.”
“That’s a mixed blessing.”
“More like the Namer’s blessing,” snorted Pharyl. “The other is a killing. Girl knifed a man. Likely her pimp. At least, he was wearing one of those pimp’s jackets, and she isn’t saying anything.”
Quaeryt winced. That was an offense he didn’t want to hear, not in the slightest. “Will anyone else testify?”
“Not likely. No one else was around when the patrollers got there, and the people in the rooms around said they never heard anything. They’re lying, but there’s no way to prove it.”
“We can certainly hear those on Mardi … but I have to handle a complicated civic hearing that day as well. It has to do with a complaint against a High Holder over water rights, and I have to refer that to the High Justicer of Telaryn. If you don’t mind, I’d like to put that first. You’ll need to post notices for it, but those won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“A complaint against a High Holder.” Pharyl shook his head. “Don’t envy you, sir.”
“The advocate is our friend Caesyt.”
“He’s the kind of friend no patrol chief needs.”
“And the kind governors don’t need, either.”
“Better you than me, sir.”
“That’s one of the things governors are appointed for.” Or should be.
After Pharyl left, Quaeryt walked out to the stable to saddle the mare. He had more than a few matters to consider on the ride back to the villa. He also couldn’t help but recall Skarpa’s comment about governing, that it wasn’t something he could win like a battle.
That’s becoming more and more obvious.
46
Once he reached the post on Vendrei, Quaeryt found himself immersed in a welter of details, some of which he’d anticipated, and some of which he hadn’t, from not only making sure Baharyt finished the copies of the documents for the hearing on Mardi, but also that the hearing notices were copied and posted and that a trooper delivered a copy personally to Caesyt. That turned out to take several glasses because the advocate was no longer at the location recalled by Aextyl, but in what had been a narrow shop on the main avenue some three blocks south of where Caesyt had been situated formerly. Dhaeryn did report that the repairs on the east bridge had been completed, but that the south half of the bridge would remain blocked off for several days longer because some of the concrete and stone and brickwork required more time to cure.
Dhaeryn had barely left the study when the duty messenger appeared. “A Factor Lysienk here to see you, sir.”
Lysienk? Quaeryt knew he had heard the name, but didn’t recall it from the tariff lists he’d perused earlier. After a moment he remembered that Aextyl had called Lysienk a factor of dubious integrity and Pharyl had also expressed concerns as well. You should have recalled his name immediately. Why hadn’t he? Because your attention is split in too many directions? “Did he say why he wished to see me?”
“No, sir.”
“Have him come in.” Quaeryt stood.
Lysienk was slender and blond, yet moved with a slinky grace that reminded Quaeryt of port rats, even though the factor displayed none of the furtiveness of such a rodent. He inclined his head politely. “Governor Quaeryt. It is most gracious of you to see me without an appointment, yet one wonders how one might make such an appointment. Indeed, discovering your whereabouts took a number of inquiries.”
Quaeryt gestured to the chairs before the desk and seated himself. “You did not state your business to the duty troopers.”
“Indeed, I did not…” Lysienk offered a smile that was likely meant to be apologetic, but held a hint of the furtive, again reminding Quaeryt of a rat. “I am here to discuss the continuation of my supplies of the best produce and meats to the governor’s household. I would not trouble you personally with such a trivial matter, but alas, I have been unable to determine who your steward might be or how to reach him. If you would be so kind as to—”
“I am most certain that you do supply fine meats and produce, Factor Lysienk…” Quaeryt let the silence at the end of his words draw out for several moments before continuing. “But my wife, currently in the personage of her private secretary, will be handling such purchases for the governor’s residence.”
Lysienk presented an even more ratlike smile. “Then perhaps you could convey to that distinguished person that I have supplied the last two governors with the best of produce and meat … and my supplies are not only the best, but unlike those of others, there are never any difficulties with their quality … and especially not with their delivery. You, being the direct representative of Lord Bhayar here in Extela, understand above
all others the importance of such reliability.”
Quaeryt understood precisely what Lysienk was promising, especially after what he had learned from Aextyl and Pharyl. He was also irritated, for more than a few reasons, but he managed to smile politely. “You are most persuasive, Factor Lysienk, and most convincing. As you may know, however, the new governor’s residence is not yet ready for such provisions as you supply, and it will likely be several weeks before it is. The villa is not yet even properly furnished. Perhaps … if you sent a note to the villa requesting an appointment with secretary Shenna for some time next week…? I would suggest meeting after Mardi.”
“Ah … I do understand, Governor.” Lysienk bowed, gracefully. “You are most kind, and I look forward to making arrangements with your wife’s private secretary.”
After the sleazy produce factor departed, Quaeryt just stared at the closed door for a moment. Did everything in Extela work that way? He’d purchased some time, but he’d still have to deal with Lysienk … in a way that would preclude siphoning off extra golds as assurance that provisions and teamsters would not suffer unfortunate “accidents.”
Once again, he had less than a quint before the duty ranker was announcing “Factor Andryt.”
As the door opened, Quaeryt tried to recall where he’d seen or heard the name … then realized that Andryt was one of those who had signed the petition requesting that Quaeryt stop holding the price of flour down.
Andryt was short, stout, and bald. “Governor … I am here to throw myself at your knees…”
Please don’t.
“… I will grovel if I must, beg … whatever … but I implore you to do something before we are all destroyed, devastated, and desolated…”
Desolated? By the low prices of flour … that will go up before long? But the rotund factor was still talking, and seemingly doing so at an ever increasing speed.
“… the eruption, it was bad enough, and the thefts and the violence that followed was worse, and the east bridge being impassable and the lack of water, and the low prices of flour … but now…” Andryt stopped abruptly and shrugged, as if whatever he might be asking could only be obvious.
“Factor Andryt … I am afraid I do not understand. You are suggesting something that is even worse than everything that has already happened, but you do not tell me what this disaster is.”
“Is it not obvious? Did he not precede me into your presence?”
“Factor Lysienk? He’s obviously less than honest, but it might help if you told me why he is a greater disaster than lava, ash, ground tremors, violence, and flooding.”
“Those who do not sell their best to him … bad things happen to them … He has mentioned … my family … made suggestions about the daughters of others … he is an evil man…”
“You never did tell me what you factor…”
“The finest in fruits, the best apples, pears, and peaches, and all the berries that the hills support…”
“If your produce is so superior, why do you worry about Lysienk? Why is everyone so afraid of him, then?”
“Because everyone who crosses him suffers most terrible things. They are so terrible … he might be…” Andryt shook his head.
“He might be what?”
“I cannot say … only…”
“The spawn of the Namer?” suggested Quaeryt.
“He is worse…” Andryt shivered. “He might … might even … be an imager.”
“Oh…” Quaeryt frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“Because of what has happened to those who cross him. They drop dead while at dinner. They are found lifeless in their beds. There are no wounds. There is no sign of poison. Leforyn’s horse broke a leg while he was crossing the river, and Leforyn hit his head on the bridge and fell into the water and drowned. These things happen. They do not happen all the time. They happen often to those who cross Lysienk. They should not happen just to those who owe Lysienk golds and refuse to pay or to those who have crossed him. Yet this is the way it has happened for the past years, ever since this … imager came to Extela.”
“How much do you owe him?”
“Nothing.”
“How did you cross him?”
“Why do you ask me such questions?”
“Because no one talks about Lysienk. I know. I’ve made inquiries. You’re talking. You’ve come to me because you have nowhere else to turn.”
“He wants me to sell my goods and warehouse to him. I do not wish that. Not now. He is most insistent.”
“Why your goods and warehouse?”
“I have the best flour mill in Extela, and now that there are fewer mills, there are growers who will sell only to me…” Andryt shrugged. “I refused his request for my daughter’s hand.”
“She is beautiful?”
“Every father thinks his daughter is special, but Marah is indeed special and beautiful, and I would not see her in his hands. Yet … to who else can I turn? No one else will help … or even say anything.”
Quaeryt nodded. “I can only say that I will see what I can do.”
Andryt sagged where he stood, looking crestfallen.
“Factor Andryt … I cannot ride out of here with a patrol and throw this man into a cell in the gaol because accidents have happened. I can see that he is not a good man, and I will deal with him. That is all I can promise.”
“I have your word?”
“You do.”
“I asked … the soldiers. They said you were a man of your word. Will you keep that word, even if an accident befalls me?”
“I will … but please do not let us talk of accidents.”
“There have been so many … so many around this evil man.”
“I’ll do what I can…” Quaeryt said again.
It took a bit more time before he succeeded in reassuring the nervous factor and saw him out. After Andryt left, Quaeryt just shook his head … but he had to admit that the factor might be right. Accidents such as those he had described were one way a hidden imager might well operate.
Quaeryt felt a tight smile on his face. He’d done things like that, most recently with High Holder Wystgahl. But doesn’t the reason count for something? You acted to stop fraud, theft, and starvation. If this … Lysienk … does what this factor thinks … he uses imaging in order to create a form of fraud and theft. He shook his head. Some people would see no difference, would only condemn the act, and not the reason, even when the law, such as it was, was unable to stop such theft.
And all that meant … If Lysienk were truly an imager … and as evil as he appeared to be, Quaeryt would have to do something … both to implement his own plans to make Telaryn a better and safer place for scholars and imagers, and to stop the corruption in Extela that seemed to pervade everything. Still … he likely had few days, if not longer.
In addition to everything else, he also couldn’t help but worry about the homily he needed to deliver on Solayi evening, and that led to worries about meeting with Siemprit’s junior chorister, which was something he didn’t really want to do, because the whole issue would be moot, one way or another, in less than a month, when Third Regiment left for Ferravyl. Part of his reluctance, he knew, was because he’d felt Siemprit was like too many he’d met in Extela. Even though the chorister had never spoken a word about it, Quaeryt sensed that Siemprit was far more interested in coin than in what chorister might be best for the officers and men of the regiment, something Quaeryt had never felt when he’d dealt with Phargos, the regimental chorister in Tilbor.
The business with Andryt and Lysienk concerned him the most … for more than one reason, including the fact that even if Lysienk weren’t an imager, the slimy factor was giving imagers a bad name.
He decided that he needed to ride over to the Civic Patrol station, just on the off chance that Pharyl might be able to tell him more. He left the study and walked down the corridor to the duty desk.
“I’ll need the mare,” he said to the young ranker standing t
here—not the duty squad leader, who would have been there most times. “I’m going over to the Civic Patrol station.”
“Governor, sir, you might want to wait just a few moments before leaving.”
“Oh…”
“The factor who came to see you, the second one, he had an accident.”
“What sort of accident?”
“He was going out through the gates. He got maybe thirty yards from the walls, and his horse bucked and threw him. He came down on his head. That’s where Squad Leader Daerk is, sir.”
Quaeryt froze for just a moment. “I think I’d better take a look.”
“Ah … yes, sir.”
Quaeryt did not quite run from the building, but he did walk as swiftly as his leg would let him, until he was approaching the squad leader and another ranker standing over a prone figure.
“Governor, sir.”
“What happened?”
Daerk turned to the ranker. “You saw it. Tell him what you told me.”
“Yes, sir. We didn’t see it, sir, not exactly, because that other factor was yelling at his men. They were over there.” The ranker pointed. “We heard the horse scream. When we turned, it was sort of … I couldn’t say … but the factor was on the stones. We ran toward him, and he was half muttering, half yelling, and then he just sort of stiffened up, and he died.”
“Did you hear him say anything?”
“There was something about an accident, but it didn’t make any sense. That was the only word that I could make out. I wanted to ask the other factor, but he was gone by then.”
“Do you have the horse?”
“Yes, sir. Over there.”
“Would you check it for tenderness or soreness around the hindquarters and flanks?”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt could hear the puzzlement in the ranker’s voice, but the man walked toward the two others who had a mount between them.
“You think something strange, sir?” asked Daerk.
“I just thought it might be a good idea to see if the horse was injured and that was why he threw the factor.” He glanced down at Andryt, who lay on his back, his face still in a half grimace, as if he had suffered great pain, and then died so quickly that the muscles had remained partly distorted.
Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio Page 36