“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt entered the small study, closed the door, then opened the envelope.
Governor—
On Samedi evening, a patroller team consisting of two patrollers and a patroller recruit saw a fight occurring outside a café facing the south market square. Because passersby were endangered, they broke up the fight. Then a male companion of the man the patrollers took into custody knifed the recruit in the back and then slashed his neck. The recruit died right there.
I had planned to schedule the hearing for tomorrow, but Advocate Caesyt protested that Solayi does not count as a day of notice, and I have scheduled the hearing for Jeudi, along with several other less serious charges.
Quaeryt set down the missive. Something like this had to happen sooner or later. Then he frowned. Since when could a café brawler afford an advocate?
He sat down at the desk and immediately wrote his reply.
Chief Pharyl—
Thank you for the notice about the unfortunate occurrence involving a patroller recruit and the scheduling of hearings. Doubtless the advocate is well versed in the precedents, and we should use his expertise in that matter.
I would hope that the hearing would reveal all the details of the event so that justice may be done.
Quaeryt had no doubt that Pharyl would understand what he wanted. He sealed the missive, then rose and walked to the study door, opening it. The young patroller stood there waiting.
Quaeryt extended the missive. “My reply to the chief.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get it right to him.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt didn’t return to the study, but made his way to the small room where the two clerks were already at work.
“How are we coming on reconciling Baharyt’s crafter and factor list with the old tariff listings?”
“There’s good, and there’s bad, Governor.”
“Start with the bad.”
“As many as one in ten of those on the old lists aren’t in Extela anymore, not that we and the tariff collectors can find them, anyways.”
Quaeryt nodded. “That’s not unexpected after all that’s happened. And the good?”
“We found almost a hundred shops and crafters and even fifteen factors that haven’t been paying tariffs.”
“But they likely won’t make up what we’ve lost?”
“No, sir. Maybe a third part. Might be half, but that’d be pushing it.”
“We’ll just have to do what we can.” In the future, he might have to ease up tariff levels, even with the lower level of spending he’d imposed, because the Civic Patrol needed to be larger, and there had to be more permanent troopers at the post. Both those were more than evident to Quaeryt.
When he finished with the clerks, a good glass later, he went to find Skarpa, to tell him about Zhrensyl, but discovered that the commander had the entire regiment out on “maneuvers.” Given that Third Regiment was headed to Ferravyl before too long, Quaeryt didn’t find that surprising. Certainly, Skarpa had been diligent in continuing training, although he’d said little enough to Quaeryt.
When he inquired after Dhaeryn and Ghaelt and discovered that they were already at the site for the governor’s building, he decided to ride there and see how matters were progressing.
The two engineers had staked out where the corners of the building would be, and were using heavy cord and stakes to mark out where the foundation trenches would be dug. Two small boys peered at the two engineers from across the street and beside a cart where a woman was trying to sell what looked to be knitted goods in front of a boarded-up shop of some sort. Once the building was completed, Quaeryt had no doubt that someone would either buy or refurbish the old building, most likely for a café or the inland equivalent of a chandlery.
He rode closer to the engineers and reined up. “You look to have it well laid out.”
“Not well. Not yet,” replied Dhaeryn.
“That’s a good way of putting it, Governor,” replied Ghaelt. “Look to—that’s if we don’t run into problems with the foundation trenches. And if we don’t hit an underground spring. Don’t expect that here, but you never know.”
“Do you have laborers ready?”
“Plenty of those around here, sir,” said Ghaelt. “Even masons aren’t that hard to come by. Finish carpenters, good ones, they’re not so easy to find.”
Quaeryt couldn’t help frowning. “Carpenters?”
“The good ones leave for places like Solis or the shipyards in Estisle … or they work for the High Holders, or they become cabinetmakers. Make a lot more silvers doing those things.”
Put that way, it made sense, although Quaeryt hadn’t thought of it in that fashion. “Do you have any men at the post with those skills?”
“Torkyn’s not bad, and we can hire his cousin, once we get that far along.”
Seeing as he was only slowing matters down, Quaeryt said, “Thank you. I won’t take any more of your time.” Then he turned the mare and started back toward the post.
At least, if bit by bit, he was making progress. Slow progress.
55
On Lundi night Quaeryt did not get to the villa until late, because he had to stay at the post late and offer words of farewell, as chorister, before Zhrensyl’s pyre was lit. He did the best he could for an officer he scarcely had known, as he tried to explain later to Vaelora.
Then on Mardi, Quaeryt spent the morning at the Civic Patrol station, conducting five hearings, four of them minor, requiring either confinement for a week or a few strokes of the lash, and a theft and assault requiring both a flogging and a branding. In that instance, the man convicted had grabbed the coin box in a public house while the two sons of the woman who owned it were within yards and then tried to beat the older woman with a chair he picked up.
Quaeryt almost felt guilty ordering the punishment of a man that foolish, yet someone that stupid was likely to do the same thing again … and again, and then find himself facing beheading, still wondering how it had all happened.
That evening, when he finally reached the villa, Vaelora informed him that she still hadn’t located a proper table for the villa’s formal dining chamber, let alone matching chairs, and she continued to fret over the lack of social interaction and the invitations they had not received.
“We were invited more places when you were just a princeps in Tilbor.”
“Tilbora wasn’t mangled by an eruption,” Quaeryt pointed out, even while he silently shared her concerns. “And factors and High Holders expect us to entertain, and we can’t. Not yet. You saw that in Tilbora.”
“I didn’t realize just how much you’d have to do for the city, dearest.”
“Neither did I.”
On Meredi, Ghaelt reported that the laborers had begun to dig the foundation trenches for the new governor’s building, and that there appeared to be no problems, but that it would be several days before he could be certain of that. Jhalyt reported that the tariff collectors had taken in over a hundred golds in the first few days of Mayas, and that cheered Quaeryt somewhat, given how many shops and factors had vanished under the ash and lava.
Jeudi morning, he made certain he was at the Civic Patrol station by seventh glass.
Pharyl greeted Quaeryt even before he reached the long duty desk. “Good morning, Governor.”
“You have that look, Chief. What is it?”
“We have another problem.” Pharyl walked beside Quaeryt, back to his study.
“Besides a dead patrol recruit?” Quaeryt closed the door behind them.
“An interesting case of theft and assault also took place on Samedi evening. I’ve scheduled it after the murder hearing.”
“Is there anything about the murder that won’t come up in the hearing?”
“Besides the fact that Caesyt is the advocate? No. There’s something else, but I shouldn’t bring it up until the hearing. I’d like you to hear it without my opinions.”
“What els
e can you tell me that won’t come up in the hearing?” Quaeryt asked.
“This fellow Cauflyn in the second hearing … he’s a hired tough. He keeps order in Hyleor’s pleasure house. One of them. The one that’s less than a block from the southern market square.”
“What was he doing away from it on a Samedi night?”
“It wasn’t night. It was a couple of quints before fifth glass, too early for much business, when he tried to grab the felter’s wallet.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He’s got a job.”
“It does if you’ve pissed off your boss.”
“But you said he has an advocate. That makes even less sense.”
“I’m guessing. Cauflyn’s been in a cell since Samedi. Where else in Extela would he be safe from Hyleor’s other toughs? Already, people know the patrol isn’t what it once was and that Hyleor can’t buy someone out of gaol. If Cauflyn thought Hyleor was out for his neck…”
“Where else could he have a chance of being safe?” said Quaeryt. “That means whatever he did was enough to cause Hyleor to want his neck, and he had to hurry. Otherwise…”
“That was my thought. Because Caesyt is defending both of them, there has to be a connection.”
“It could just be that Hyleor wants them both free … for very different reasons.”
“That’s possible, but I don’t know.”
Neither did Quaeryt, and he had the feeling that regardless of how the hearing turned out, he still might not ever know.
After finishing with Pharyl, and waiting until just before eighth glass, Quaeryt walked into the hearing room and to the dais, seating himself behind the table desk, and setting the two files before him. A good fifteen locals were in the chamber, including a younger woman whose red eyes suggested she had been crying, and several hard-faced men.
“The justicing hearing in the city of Extela, the province of Montagne, will commence. I am Governor Quaeryt, acting as justicer. This hearing is the matter of Jubyl Jonsyn, charged with the murder of Shannar Fhandsyn and assault.” Quaeryt looked to the stocky advocate standing by the bench for the accused. “Are you representing the accused?”
“Yes, Honorable Justicer.”
Pharyl stepped forward. “Chief of the Civic Patrol, representing the city of Extela.”
“Very well. Bring in the accused.”
Two patrollers marched in Jubyl, his hands in restraints, and positioned him directly before Quaeryt. The tough bore an expression close to a smirk, and his eyes kept flicking to Caesyt.
“You are charged with murder and assault upon a civic patroller. How do you plead?”
“Guilty to assault,” replied Caesyt. “Not guilty to murder.”
Quaeryt nodded and waited for the patrollers to escort Jubyl to the backless bench at the side of the hearing chamber.
“Do you have an opening statement, Chief?”
Pharyl stepped forward. “The offender willfully stabbed a young patroller recruit who had not even raised a truncheon. He continued to stab the victim viciously and in such a flurry that no one could get to the patroller before he was close to death. By the laws of the land, that is murder. In addition, because the man he attacked was a patroller, by definition that is assault against those who enforce the laws.” The chief stepped to the side.
“Advocate?”
“I do have a statement, Honorable Justicer.” Caesyt stepped forward. “Jubyl had drunk too much, but he is not a killer. As you will see, he was not in his right mind. Because he was not, I will prove that he did not commit murder under the laws of Telaryn and Extela.” With that, the advocate nodded and stepped back.
“You may proceed, Patrol Chief.” Quaeryt was concerned about the brevity of Caesyt’s statement, wondering exactly what it foreshadowed and what sort of legal trickery might be forthcoming.
“Patroller Dienn, please come forward,” said Pharyl, turning toward the benches at the back of the hearing room, on which several patrollers were seated.
A muscular, stocky man, Dienn rose and stepped forward with short quick steps.
“Please tell the justicer what happened outside Shyan’s Café last Samedi evening.”
“Justicer, sir, Haellen and I were patrolling the south side of the square, and young Shannar was with us. Seemed to be two men yelling at each other outside Shyan’s, but neither one had any weapons out. No clubs, no knives. Just two fellows shouting. They were shouting loud enough to upset folks, and we walked toward ’em. I had my truncheon in hand ’cause you can never tell. So did Haellen. I told Shannar to get his at the ready, but I didn’t look back. When we got near, one of the two fellows who was shouting turned and ran down the alley. Didn’t see any sense in going after him. No one looked to be hurt. No one was complaining. Then Jubyl yelled something about the Tilborans coming after him, and he pulled out a pig-sticker and ran at me. I was ready to cold-cock him, when he turned to one side and gutted young Shannar. Then slashed his neck. Got him two or three times before Haellen and I could stop him. So much blood that we didn’t even have time to call for a healer before Shannar was gone.”
“What did Jubyl do after that?” asked Pharyl.
“Not a thing. We’d hit him hard enough on his thick skull that he was stretched out on his face. He didn’t wake up until after he was celled at the station.”
“I have no more questions,” said Pharyl.
“Do you have any questions, Advocate Caesyt?” asked Quaeryt.
“I do.” Caesyt stepped forward. “You said that Jubyl yelled that the Tilborans were coming after him. What else did he say?”
“That was all.”
“Did he say it more than once?”
“He yelled something like that a couple of times. Might have been three.”
“Did he seem to recognize you … as patrollers, that is?”
“He charged us. Usually that means an offender knows we’re after him.”
“He never said anything about patrollers?”
“I didn’t hear anything like that,” admitted Dienn.
“No more questions.”
“Patroller Haellen, forward,” announced Pharyl.
In effect, Pharyl asked nearly the same set of questions of the second patroller, and in turn so did Caesyt. Haellen’s answers were similar to those of Dienn.
Once both had completed their questioning, Pharyl nodded toward Jubyl. “Have the offender step forward.”
“You have heard the words of the patrollers,” began Pharyl. “Is what they say true?”
“No. I didn’t stab no one.”
“Everyone saw you stab Shannar.”
“I just waved my knife. He stepped into it. Nothing I could do. He was stupid. He shoulda known better.”
“Jubyl, did you know the man you stabbed?”
“I didn’t stab no one.”
“You just said that you did.”
“No, sir. I said I waved my knife. He stepped into it. That’s not stabbing.”
“Did you know the man who died?”
“No.”
“You didn’t know that he was the younger brother of one of the guards at the pleasure house where you sometimes work?” pressed Pharyl.
“I object to that question, Honorable Justicer,” interjected Caesyt immediately, although his voice remained smooth and level.
The younger brother of one of Hyleor’s guards? For a moment, Quaeryt was silent before saying, “Please rephrase the question, Chief Pharyl.”
“Yes, sir.” Pharyl turned back to Jubyl. “Is not Bennar Fhandsyn a guard at the place where you sometimes work?”
“I know Bennar.”
Bennar Fhandsyn? Quaeryt knew he’d heard the name before. He just didn’t remember where or when.
“Did you know his brother Shannar?”
“He never talked about a brother.”
“Did you know Bennar’s brother?”
“I might a’ met him. I don’t remember.”
Quaeryt was convinced th
ose statements were lies, even if there happened to be no way to prove that.
Pharyl asked more questions, but Jubyl’s answers never varied, and finally the chief stepped away and inclined his head to the advocate.
“Jubyl, you have said you were waving your knife and that the patroller walked into it. Why did you have the knife out?”
“Because there were Tilborans coming for me. That’s why. A fellow’s got to defend himself. He’s got that right.”
The faintest look of disgust crossed Pharyl’s face.
“Advocate,” interjected Quaeryt, “if you would please clarify any past connection to Tilborans … or not … as the case may be.”
“Why did you think the Tilborans were coming for you?”
“They’re everywhere. They didn’t stay in Tilbor.”
“Why not?”
“I donna know. They just are. I saw ’em. I did.”
“Have you ever seen any other Tilborans?”
“I told you. They were near the square. They were after me.”
“Did you take out your knife to attack them?”
“No, sir. I was just showing what they’d get if they came after me. Then that fellow patroller walked into it.”
After another half quint of questions, Caesyt said, “I have no more questions.”
Quaeryt turned to Pharyl. “Do you have any more questions or any other witnesses?”
“I have a few questions, Honorable Justicer.”
Quaeryt nodded.
“Jubyl, there are no records of your serving in any regiment posted to Tilbor. Why do you say that Tilborans were after you?”
“Because they were. They were.” Jubyl’s eyes went from side to side.
“What would you do if one of these Tilborans moved toward you?”
“A fellow can defend himself.”
“Would you kill one?”
“If he tried to attack me.”
“No further questions.”
Both Caesyt and Pharyl looked to Quaeryt.
“Do you have a closing statement, Chief Pharyl?”
“I do.” Pharyl paused for a moment. “Jubyl stabbed Patroller Shannar. That is without question. More than a score of people saw it. Jubyl claims he was waving his knife to keep away Tilborans. He has never been to Tilbor. The advocate for Jubyl will claim that the offender did not know what he was doing. Just a moment ago, Jubyl made a clear statement that he would attack only if attacked. That shows the ability to decide. He decided to kill Patroller Shannar. He did so. He is guilty and should be found so.”
Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio Page 41