Rex Regis (65 page)

“That’s because I have you, with me and behind me … and sometimes very much in front of me,” Quaeryt replied playfully. “You remind me just enough that I know I don’t have all the answers. Rholan likely didn’t, either. He just didn’t have someone like you.”

Vaelora’s mouth opened. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

Without answering, Vaelora jumped up from the dressing table and hurried into the bedchamber. She returned holding the leatherbound volume of
Rholan and the Nameless,
leafing through it as she did. “Remember that part when the writer talks about Rholan not knowing the importance of a woman’s appearance and how it is a source of her power?”

“Yes,” replied Quaeryt warily.

“Here’s another section … when the writer is talking about Rholan’s feelings about factors.” She began to read …

“… they know the value of every kind of good to the last part of a copper. What they cannot value are the ideals of the people that make those values possible. Among those values are the beliefs that a good reputation is to be more valued than golds in one’s wallet or that a man should be paid honestly for his work. Of course, he never mentioned that the same should be true of women …

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Quaeryt began to grin. “Go on.”

She turned to the last page of the small leatherbound book. “Here … look.” She pointed to the last letters.

Quaeryt looked over her shoulder at them. “The End.”

“They’re not a fancy way of writing ‘The End,’” said Vaelora. “They’re initials.”

Quaeryt looked more closely, seeing what she meant-the curled letters, studied closely, actually read “TN amp;D.”

Abruptly he understood fully. “Thieryesa of Niasaen and Douvyt …
She
wrote the book. He did have a woman behind him all the time, even if he never acknowledged her.”
And she did get the last word … in her own way. But then, so did Vaelora.

He smiled.

“What are you thinking?” Vaelora asked as she closed the book.

“That it’s time for us to make an appearance.” He grinned, taking in her still-slender figure and her beauty in the pale green gown with the brown sleeveless silk vest that highlighted her eyes.

“You were not.”

“You’re right. I’ll tell you later.”

“You’d better.”

“I always do.”

“In your own good time.”

“But I tell you.”
Always.
He reached out and took her hand.

They walked down the grand staircase arm in arm.

EPILOGUE

Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Calkoran rode down the west river road. To their left was Imagisle, and ahead was the bridge over the River Aluse.

“I don’t see why I have to come to Imagisle in order to see the changes the imagers made to the student quarters for young women,” said Vaelora. “High Holder Ensoel’s daughter could certainly live with whatever changes they made. I’ve accommodated myself to a range of housing over the past years.”

“I know,” replied Quaeryt. “Calkoran insists that it’s also so that we can inspect the family cottages as well. Neither of us has been here in weeks with all the other details your brother has piled on us. All the imagers are male, and not many have wives-or daughters. The wives of the few that do have them have been sent for, but they haven’t arrived yet. According to both Gauswn and Horan-even Zhelan-the imagers worry that they may have overlooked something.”

From where he rode on Vaelora’s right, Calkoran cleared his throat. “I would not feel comfortable, Lady Vaelora, if the imagers were building a house for the families of my men…”

“When are you leaving for Vaestora?” asked Vaelora gently, the softness of her words conveying her understanding of the mixed feelings behind Calkoran’s words.

“The day after tomorrow, Lady. The last of my companies left for Khel yesterday to support Governor Meinyt.”

Escorting Deucalon as well.
Quaeryt nodded at that.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Lady,’” replied Vaelora, “now that you’re a High Holder.”

“Only through the kindness of your brother and husband,” replied the former marshal and subcommander.

“You earned that holding,” replied Quaeryt. “Both in Khel and in Bovaria. And you’ll take care of it.”

“I have no heirs,” Calkoran said.

“You’re still young enough to have them,” replied Vaelora, “and a distinguished commander and marshal who’s handsome and now a High Holder won’t have any lack of interested young women.”

“There are likely some daughters of wealthy Pharsi who would be very interested,” added Quaeryt with a grin.

The gray-haired officer actually blushed, then gestured for them to guide their mounts onto the bridge.

“They’ve done so much.” As she reached the middle of the bridge, Vaelora gestured to the anomen. “It’s so beautiful now.”

When they reached the green, Quaeryt pointed toward the building at the south end. “That’s the administration or headquarters building. There’s even a study there for me when I become the full-time maître … whenever that happens.”

“It won’t be that long now,” said Vaelora. “Things are settling down.”

“That’s true. Justanan has a firm grip, and so do you.”

“To the north of the green,” said Calkoran. “That is where the family cottages are.”

Quaeryt and Vaelora turned north and took the left side of the paved boulevard. There were five houses on the east side, then the paved lane, a narrow green, another paved lane, and five more dwellings on the west side. Each was solidly constructed of a gray brick, with a roof of slate tiles. Each dwelling had white shutters and matching trim, with brassbound oak doors set in the middle of wide covered front porches.

“They left space behind each one for more lanes and houses,” said Calkoran.

Quaeryt looked up. A large structure stood at the north end of the parkway. Before it was a wide paved area. A lane led to a small structure that had to be a stable set to the rear of the dwelling and to the west. Unlike the family dwellings, the larger building was of two stories, its walls of gray granite. It extended a good forty yards across the front and was completely surrounded by a covered porch. Broad stone steps led up to the porch, and the shutters and trim were painted a luminous light greenish brown that somehow avoided being garish. Wide windows graced both floors.

Flanking the short walk to the steps were the imager undercaptains, with Zhelan standing slightly to one side.

Quaeryt looked to Vaelora, but she appeared as stunned as he felt. Then Quaeryt looked to Calkoran. “That wasn’t here the last time I was here.”

“No, sir.” Calkoran smiled. “Why don’t you let the major explain?”

Quaeryt kept studying the large dwelling as he and Vaelora rode toward it, taking in the brassbound front doors with the elaborate etched glass whose pattern he could not quite make out, what looked to be stone tiling on the porch floor, and the stone pillars supporting the porch.

When they reined up, Zhelan stepped forward, followed by the imager undercaptains. “Commander and Lady … your future home.”

“It is not finished yet, inside,” declared Baelthm. “We would not do that, Lady, without your guidance.”

“We all knew you wouldn’t ever ask for what you deserve, sir and Lady,” said Khalis, with a broad smile. “So we did our best to build it before you could object. Lhandor did the plans.”

Quaeryt just kept looking at the magnificent dwelling, not a palace, but certainly a small mansion. He could feel his eyes burning.

Vaelora reached across the gap between their mounts and took his hand. “You deserve this.”

He shook his head. “Not without you.”

“We deserve it, then.” Vaelora smiled warmly at him.

Quaeryt didn’t object. Not so long as she was beside him.