Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (35 page)

Hrehn laughed, warmly. “A man’d be a fool not to accept your offer, Governor. That’s if Pharyl accepts it.”

“Do you both accept, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt spent another glass with both officers, and then a quint with Skarpa informing him.

The commander laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sir. You can be very persuasive … one way or another.”

“I prefer honey to vinegar.”

“Vinegar’s sweet compared to your disapproval, sir.”

Quaeryt could only shrug, but he had to admit he hadn’t thought he was that hard.
Are you?
Then he thought about Wystgahl—except he still didn’t see that he’d had any real choice.

He had no sooner returned to the study when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”

The door edged open to reveal the duty squad leader. “Lady Vaelora sent a ranker back to inquire if it would be possible for you to be able to join her, sir.”

Quaeryt managed not to frown. Then he nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment … if someone could see to my mount.”

“Yes, sir.”

By the time Quaeryt reached the courtyard, the squad that had accompanied him earlier in the day was waiting, along with the mare and the ranker who had carried the message from Vaelora. In less than a quint, he and the squad followed the ranker out to the avenue, and then westward along a boulevard with a center strip that held trees and bushes. He couldn’t tell whether the ash had killed the vegetation or whether it was simply slow to leaf out after the winter.

After a ride of slightly more than a mille, the ranker turned north past a pair of large brick pillars. Quaeryt would not have called any of the dwellings along the tree-lined avenue either modest or small. All were of at least two levels, and none was less than thirty yards across the front. All were constructed of either black stone or reddish black brick, if not both, with slate roofs, and the grounds of roughly one in three were enclosed by walls over which not even a man on horseback could see.

Even from over a hundred yards away, Quaeryt could see where a mounted ranker waited in the street in front of a pair of open gates in yet another wall. When Quaeryt reined up beside the ranker, he saw the villa through the gates—a dwelling certainly not modest in any sense, not to Quaeryt. The two-story structure extended some seventy yards from end to end, and that did not count the stable situated at the end of the drive that ran from the gates to the covered side portico and then to the stable, also of two stories. Nor did it count another structure located against the rear wall of the property, although Quaeryt could only make out part of that, shielded as it was by the bulk of the villa and the slightly overgrown trees to the right of the open space beside the stable.

Only five hundred golds?
Quaeryt took a slow deep breath and then rode through the gates and to the portico. Vaelora was waiting there with an older man in olive livery. Beyond them, in the area to the right of the stable, waited the rest of the squad, dismounted and watering their mounts from the long stone trough opposite the stable.

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.”