Rex Regis (18 page)

“You should tell Bhayar that.”

“Better that you tell him … or Aelina.”

“She already has.”

That didn’t surprise Quaeryt, not at all.

“You know, in some ways, Bhayar is as close to a brother as you’ll ever have.”

“Why do you say that?”

“In my more than ample spare time,” Vaelora paused before continuing, “I was reading
Rholan
. The author mentioned that Rholan didn’t believe in brotherhood.”

“That makes sense. His half brother was a wastrel, and he didn’t have any other brothers or sisters.”

Vaelora took a sip of wine, then said, “There’s something about that passage. I’d like you to read it again.”

“I will … after we enjoy this tasty dinner.”

Vaelora shook her head.

Quaeryt smiled.

* * *

Later, while Vaelora was preparing for bed, Quaeryt paged through
Rholan and the Nameless,
finally locating the passage Vaelora had mentioned. He quickly read the entire section.

So often do men talk about brotherhood, as if it were some lofty ideal that transcends the boundaries of all lands, that some may find it interesting that Rholan never did. That is less than surprising. Rholan had no siblings except his half brother Nial, and they were never close. In fact, Rholan went out of his way to avoid Nial, not that such was difficult. Yet, Rholan’s mother was most close to her sister Clyana. Although his mother died when Rholan was only ten, Rholan often visited his aunt throughout his life and made no secret of their relationship. What is more interesting was that Clyana was a cabinetmaker of some skill, and several of her pieces adorned Rholan’s home. Yet he never mentioned that, even to his closest friends, perhaps because having an aunt who was a crafter of note did not fit his image. This was possible only because Rholan’s friends and acquaintances were entirely drawn from the ranks of those of considerable golds and property, either merchants, factors, or the younger sons of High Holders. Yet, for all of his private concern about finances and golds, and his rather hidden appreciation of the finer life, he understood and could speak to those of a more common background, perhaps just because of his closeness to Clyana. At the same time, he never seemed to accept the fact that sisterhood existed, even as he had seen it before his very eyes.

“What do you think?” asked Vaelora.

“It does seem strange that he couldn’t see either sisterhood or brotherhood.”

“Do you see it?”

Quaeryt smiled sheepishly. “Not really. Living with all the scholars wasn’t exactly brotherhood. Voltyr was the only one I felt even halfway close to.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind. Do you see what’s strange about the passage? How did the writer know that he hadn’t told his closest acquaintances about his aunt? And if he hadn’t…”

“How did the writer know,” finished Quaeryt.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll have to think about that … later.” He turned toward her.

Vaelora had barely joined Quaeryt for breakfast in their sitting room when she announced, “There are no tables or chairs or even cases in the studies we’ll be using.”

“We also don’t have golds for them.”

“Skarpa sent a paychest with you,” she said.

“That’s from Southern Army.” Quaeryt paused. “I suppose we could lend from it to the Bovarian Ministry of Supply. There must be a hundred golds left, and Bhayar did say he’d pay for our expenses.”

“Good. I’ll come with you to headquarters and get the golds.”

“And take a squad and one of our supply wagons with you?”

“Why not? Is anyone else using it?”

“No.” Quaeryt laughed. “Just purchase or order solid and simple table desks, chairs, or cases, and chests? Where, might I ask?”

“You’re almost being disrespectful, dearest. I have made inquiries of the staff and the serving maids.”

“Aren’t most of them from Paitrak’s house holding?”

“Not all of them. Some came from other High Holders. Some are locals who heard that Bhayar was fair and paid as promised.”

You should have known.
“Why don’t you come with me when I leave for headquarters, then?”

“Thank you for asking, dearest.”

Quaeryt winced at the cool edge to her voice. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about how we need to get the roads and bridges finished before something else happens.”

“Did you have a dream or a farsight?”

He was relieved to hear curiosity. “No … but it seems as though, whenever things are quiet, it doesn’t last.”

“So we should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“So we should.” He smiled at her, then took a swallow of the lukewarm tea, before picking up a biscuit, splitting it, and slathering it with mixed berry preserves.

Before all that long, they rode north to the headquarters holding, accompanied by a half squad of duty troopers, where Quaeryt made arrangements, including disbursing golds, for Vaelora’s logistics expedition. After seeing her off, he met quickly with the senior officers, and then headed out with the imagers and the duty company toward the north bridge over the River Aluse.

Under a sun that was much warmer than on either Solayi or Lundi, by two quints past third glass, Quaeryt could tell that the imagers were exhausted. He couldn’t complain. They’d imaged a solid bridge across the Aluse and finished the rest of the north road so that it ran smoothly all the way from the chateau to the bridge and across it. The Bovarians or the factors of Variana could Namer-well make improvements on the east side. They’d even replaced the south bridge, and completed a few hundred yards of stone paving heading west from the bridge. Further roadwork would have to wait until Meredi, and Quaeryt hoped that the imagers could begin work on the isle of piers on Jeudi, beginning with a permanent bridge.

With those thoughts in mind, he gave the orders to stop imaging and to form up for the return to the headquarters holding.

“Have you heard anything from Submarshal Skarpa, sir?” asked Khalis as he rode up to rejoin the others.

“No. I wouldn’t expect a message or a dispatch anytime soon. We’ve been here less than a week, and it would take almost that long for a rider to reach Kephria from Liantiago. Even with fresh mounts, without established posts along the way, dispatch riders couldn’t make the rest of the ride to Variana much more quickly than a week less than it took us.”

Khalis nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We don’t because dispatch stations exist all over Telaryn.”
Just another thing that we need to establish here.
Quaeryt mentally noted to add that to his list of logistic improvements needed in Bovaria.

“Do you think we’ll be called to build some of them?”

“I hope no one thinks of that immediately. We need to get started on the isle before anyone gets any ideas of what else we might build.”

“So that imagers have a place that’s theirs?”

Quaeryt nodded.

A heavyset man, a merchant of some sort from his jacket, hurried toward Quaeryt as he rode at the head of the column past a cluster of shops on the section of the south road that they had not rebuilt. “Officer! Sir? Will you be repairing this road the way you did the north road?”

Quaeryt slowed the gelding, but immediately checked his shields, hoping that the man wasn’t a diversion for an attack. “Why do you ask?”

“Because folks have already stopped using the south road.”

Quaeryt smiled. “We’ve already replaced the south bridge and some of the south road. If there’s no trouble, we should finish this part of the road all the way to the circle around the Chateau Regis in the next few days.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if the west river drive got stone paving, sir,” suggested the merchant.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t, but we can only do so much.”

“Thank you, sir.” The corpulent merchant, breathing heavily, inclined his head and stepped back.

Quaeryt looked to Khalis.

The young Pharsi undercaptain shook his head. “Everyone always wants more, don’t they?”

“When did you not notice that?” asked Quaeryt dryly.

Khalis laughed.

A good two quints passed before Quaeryt reined up in the rear courtyard of the headquarters holding. The Eleventh Regiment duty squad leader hurried toward Quaeryt.

“Sir … there’s a chorister waiting for you in your study.”

“A chorister?”

“He says he served under you in Tilbor.”

“Gauswn? He’s here?”

“Yes, sir … Some others as well. Youths.”

Imager students?
“I’ll see him. If you’d see to my mount. I’ll be needing him later to ride to the Chateau Regis.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt dismounted and hurried across the courtyard.
Why is Gauswn here? Has Tilbor turned against the young imagers … or just the scholarium?

Quaeryt had barely stepped inside the study when he was greeted exuberantly.

“Commander!” Gauswn’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Quaeryt, but that was the only indication of surprise. He remained slender, but he was clearly a chorister in gray and with the short black and white traveling scarf. “I see you’ve been promoted since your last letter.”

“Such can happen in wartime. How are you? Why are you here?” Quaeryt’s eyes went to the four youths standing behind the chorister, whom he had once thought of as a young officer, yet Gauswn was at least ten years older than Khalis and Lhandor were. The four youths looked to range in age from around ten to twelve or thirteen. Two wore the student browns of the scholarium in Tilbora.

Gauswn half turned to the students. “This is Commander Quaeryt. He is also a scholar, and as I’ve told you, if he wished, he could be the best chorister in all of Lydar.”

“Your chorister is too free with his praise,” demurred Quaeryt, “and he’s a fine chorister in his own right.”

Gauswn extended a sealed envelope to Quaeryt. “This is from Governor Straesyr. It might be best if you read it first, sir. I can answer any questions after that.” He turned to the four youths. “Wait outside in the corridor. Don’t stray. This is an army post, and you could get hurt … or worse.”

“Yes, sir,” came the chorused response.

Quaeryt opened the letter and began to read.

Quaeryt couldn’t help but smile at the last line. He had to admit that he missed Straesyr, even though they had not always seen eye-to-eye, especially in the beginning, but he’d learned a great deal from the governor.
And you should have learned more.
The message from Mistress Eluisa was definitely unexpected, but welcome … and a good suggestion. He tucked the letter inside his uniform shirt.

“Do you have any questions, sir?”

“About the letter? No. I take it that matters at the scholarium did not turn out as you might have wished?”

Gauswn smiled, slightly ruefully. “The governor is overly concerned. The scholarium will survive. It will likely prosper modestly … so long as…”

“The scholars are not required to deal with imagers as students?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why did you leave … or are you planning on returning?”

“No, sir. Not if you can find a position for me as a chorister.”

Quaeryt burst into a grin. “I’d be glad to have you as a chorister. Not only that, but we might just have an anomen, in a few weeks, for you.” He went on to explain about his plans and the ruined anomen on the isle of piers.

After he had finished, Gauswn said, “I still might request an occasional homily from you.”

“Very occasional … if matters work out.” Quaeryt made the qualification because matters hadn’t yet worked out in the fashion he’d anticipated. “We’ll have to find temporary quarters for you and the students, but we can call them trainees, and no one will complain. And since Eleventh Regiment has no chorister…”

At that moment there was a solid rap on the door.

“Yes?”

Begging your pardon, sir,” came a voice from the corridor, “but there’s a junior squad leader here with dispatches for you personally. They’re from Liantiago. He’s most insistent.”

“If they’re from Liantiago, it’s urgent,” replied Quaeryt. “Show him in.”

The young squad leader who entered the study looked totally exhausted, with deep circles under his eyes. Even so, he looked askance at Gauswn as he handed the two sealed envelopes to Quaeryt.

“Captain Gauswn was one of my officers in Tilbor,” Quaeryt explained. “He’s acted as escort for some student imagers.”

“Yes, sir. The top dispatch is from Undercaptain Voltyr, the other one, sealed in green, is from Subcommander Alazyn. I have another for Marshal Deucalon, but he is at the Chateau Regis with Lord Bhayar. He’s not expected back soon.”

“Is the other also from Undercaptain Voltyr?”

“I don’t know, sir. It’s sealed. Twice.”

Quaeryt felt a cold chill. “It will take you close to two quints to reach the Chateau Regis. You’d best hurry.” He offered a smile he didn’t feel. “Thank you.”