Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (32 page)

“Lord Bhayar has some Pharsi ancestors, it’s said.”

“He does, but he didn’t know I was Pharsi until after I knew.”

“Lost ones … I’ve never heard of that.”

“Neither did I.” Quaeryt kept his tone light. “And I thought I’d found myself.”

Eleryt smiled.

As they continued to ride toward the patrol station, Quaeryt saw the streets were cleaner, and that the ash was largely gone. He glanced toward the truncated peak that was Mount Extel. While he saw a waviness in the sky above the mountain that suggested the air there was warmer, he couldn’t make out any sign of more ash.

As the bells from the nearest anomen finished ringing out seventh glass, Quaeryt dismounted and hurried into the still-uncompleted patrol station. A quick look across the waiting patrollers, actually drawn up in five groups, each headed by one of the patrollers first, heartened him somewhat. More than somewhat, when he realized that four of the groups held twelve patrollers each, eleven plus a first. The fifth group held ten.

“Governor, sir,” offered Jaramyr, stepping forward slightly from the smaller group. “We’ve been passing the word that the patrol’s being re-formed. Some of the other patrollers came back. They didn’t know. I have their names for you, sir.”

“Excellent,” replied Quaeryt. “It appears as though you’ve grouped the men in terms of patrols under a patroller first.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve also listed each patrol here. You can change them as you see fit.…”

Quaeryt nodded. “We’ll see about that as matters progress. Did the old patrol operate with eight-man patrols under a first? Or was it twenty under a first?”

“Twenty, sir. There were eight patrols, and each had two squads, one for the day shift, and one for the night shift.”

“But you weren’t at full strength, were you?”

There was the slightest pause, as if Jaramyr were considering how to reply, before he said, “No, sir. There were supposed to be eight patrols, but we had six patrols and five extra men.”

Quaeryt waited.

“… and most of the patrols had fifteen or sixteen men,” the patroller first finished.

“Were you ever told why?”

“The chief said that he only received enough golds for that many patrollers.”

Quaeryt snorted.

The faintest look of puzzlement crossed Jaramyr’s face.

“I can tell you without even any records that the chief received enough golds for eight patrols. I’d also wager that whatever patrols covered the governor’s square were at full strength.”

A faint smile was the response Quaeryt got, followed by, “I wouldn’t take that wager, sir.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“I’d also wager that the former chief and his captains likely survived the eruption and were not seen soon after.”

“Captain Hrolar and most of the two patrols he summoned were killed trying to warn people. The others … we never saw them.”

Sometimes the exception does prove the rule.
“I’m very sorry to hear that about Captain Hrolar.”

“Yes, sir. He was a good captain.”

From Jaramyr’s tone, Quaeryt could easy infer that the other captain or captains were not all that good.

“There are a number of things we need to take care of this morning. I’d like to start by meeting with the patrollers first about which patrols should be assigned to which parts of the city and rotation patterns. While we’re discussing that, I’d like each of the patrols to meet and come up with a listing of what equipment or gear that they need—at a minimum.”

For the next glass, after passing word to their patrols, the five patrollers first and Quaeryt went over the map he’d brought. Several made corrections to streets and alleyways, but in the end they’d worked out a tentative plan for patrolling. Then he asked for suggestions on inclusions in the code for patrollers, before having each patrol leader return to his patrol and gather equipment requests.

Once they returned and he’d finished noting those requests, he asked, “Are there any questions?”

“Not about what you said, sir,” replied Yuell, who looked to be the youngest of the patrollers first. “We heard there was a problem between some Pharsi girls and some soldiers … what are we supposed to do about that?”

“The ranker who attacked the woman is dead. I doubt there will be many more problems like that. Rankers have to obey the laws just like everyone else.” He thought about saying something about coming to him if there were too many rankers to press a point, but decided against it. Then he caught the sharp glances between Chelsyr and another patroller first—Uhlen, he recalled—and added, “I’m very well aware that some of Lord Bhayar’s ancestors were Pharsi … and that he doesn’t like women being forced—especially Pharsi women. I don’t either, and neither will whoever becomes patrol chief.” He smiled the cold smile. “Are there any other questions?”

“Do you know when we’ll have a patrol chief, sir?” asked Waollyt.

“I’m still working on that. One way or another it won’t be too long.”

“Sir…” began Uhlen, “if other patrollers who were patrollers want to join the patrol … what should we say?”

“Tell them that you’ll have to ask me—or the new chief. Before we make a decision, I’d like to hear what the patrollers first have to say about that man … and I’d like to know why he didn’t show up the way everyone else did.”

That brought nods from the group.

After almost another glass, he released the patrollers first to go over the possible patrols with their men. He also gave the patrollers first the discretion as to when to release their men, as well as noting that he expected everyone present at seventh glass on Vendrei. Then he departed with the single squad detailed to escort him.

Quaeryt rode back through the gates to the post at roughly two quints before the ten bells marking noon would ring out. Vaelora was waiting for him in a narrow wedge of shade on the north side of the stable.

After he dismounted, he led the mare over to where she stood. “How did your explorations go?”

“I’ll tell you on the ride.” Vaelora grimaced. “I wish we didn’t have to visit a High Holder in riding garb.”

“We don’t have a coach, and even if we did, I don’t think I’d want to take it over the east bridge at the moment.”

“Another loss to the mountain,” she said ruefully. “I’m sure Governor Scythn had a coach.”

“Among many other things.”

“You don’t like him, and you never met him.” After a moment she added slyly, “I cannot imagine why.”

“Neither can I, except that it might have something to do with his handiwork. I just found out this morning that it appears that he allowed the patrol chief to pocket the pay of what amounted to two patrols.” He paused. “We need to ride out as soon as I water the mare and the squads are ready.”

“Squads?”

“The one that escorted you, and the one that escorted me. Skarpa doesn’t want us going anywhere with less than half a company, especially outside of Extela.”

Even so, it was a good quint past noon before they left the post and headed for the east river bridge. Because Dhaeryn had not been able to locate any large timbers, the repairs so far had been limited to rebuilding and reinforcing the stone piers. That was another reason why Quaeryt needed to talk to Thysor, because, from what Quaeryt had been able to determine, Thysor was the closest High Holder with extensive timberlands.

As they rode into the area of Extela that Quaeryt had come to realize held a number of Pharsi shops, factorages, and homes, he saw several women turn, inclining their heads to Vaelora in respect. He knew that because he saw the lips of several murmur words about the Nameless “blessing the lady.”

He said nothing about that until they were crossing the square on the west side of the river, just before the bridge. “You have more than a few admirers.”

“On this side of Extela.”

“I can’t imagine that anyone would indicate anything else, even on the west side.”

“Let us just say that many on the west side are more reserved.”

“After all these years?”

“Especially after all these years.”

Quaeryt understood. That had always been the problem the Pharsi faced. Because they were intelligent and worked harder than anyone else, they were successful. Very few people really wanted to attribute success just to hard work, and so they blamed it on cliquishness and conspiracy. Then when the Yaran warlords had married Pharsi women, Quaeryt had no doubt the marriages had “proved” the nefarious motives of the Pharsi clans.

Quaeryt could see engineers working on the middle pier of the bridge, but not on the piers closest to the riverbanks. “It looks like Dhaeryn and the engineers have the end piers on each side largely repaired.”

“The planks and timbers don’t look that solid,” observed Vaelora.

As before, they ended up crossing the bridge in single file, widely spaced, and it took more than two quints to get both squads across.

Once they were on the main road, on the way to the crossroads where they would turn south, Vaelora asked, “How is the rebuilding of the patrol station coming?”

“I’m hopeful it will be usable by sometime next week. It’s likely to be ready before the patrollers are.” After a moment, he asked, “What have you discovered?” He tried not to sound wary or skeptical.

“There’s one dwelling that
might
serve. It’s more like a villa than a proper Extelan house. The factor who owned it died, and his daughter wants to sell it.” Vaelora shook her head. “It’s large enough, but it’s been empty for a year…”

“Furnishings?”

Vaelora shook her head. “A few pieces, but even they’d need work before you’d trust them.”

“What does she want for it?”

“Five hundred golds. The repairs would cost at least fifty, and furnishings…” Vaelora shook her head.

“We can’t…” Quaeryt paused.

“You were going to say, dearest?”

“I was going to say that we couldn’t afford that, but I realized that the governor can, since the villa will serve as well for whoever else is governor, and five hundred golds is not that expensive for a permanent residence.”

“Later governors will not be so modest.”

“That will be their problem, but it could also serve as the residence of the princeps.”

“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.