Rex Regis (26 page)

Two quints later, at the headquarters holding, Quaeryt found Zhelan outside the dilapidated stables that held first company’s mounts.

“Zhelan … I need your help, again…”

“Sir?”

“Have you been able to purchase grain and flour for first company and Eleventh Regiment?”

“I did, sir, until Subcommander Ernyld requested that we requisition that through his clerks. Saved us silvers, because the Northern Army pays for it, and not you.”

“What were you paying?”

“Grain … less than a copper a barrel … flour … was running around six silvers, likely be higher now…”

Quaeryt listened, then asked, “Where are Ernyld’s supply clerks?”

“They’re in the rooms at the far end of the second stable.”

“Do you know the name of the head clerk?”

“No, sir.” A puzzled expression crossed the major’s face, but he did not offer a question.

“Apparently, the marshal is having difficulty with local factors. I’m supposed to look into it, but Subcommander Ernyld failed to supply details. I thought it might be useful to gather that information myself.”

“I see, sir.”

Although Zhelan’s voice was even, Quaeryt could see the amusement in the major’s eyes. “Not a word, Major.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Quaeryt grinned, then turned and headed for the far stables.

The stables were indeed distant-close to a third of a mille from the main courtyard of the holding-and Quaeryt was sweating considerably in the late spring sunlight by the time he opened the battered ironbound door to the domain of the supply clerks.

A young ranker looked up from the narrow table just inside the door. “Commander, sir?”

“Commander Quaeryt. I’m here to see the head clerk. Who might that be?”

“Senior Squad Leader Alylor, sir.”

“If you’d escort me.” Quaeryt projected absolute authority and certainty.

“Ah … yes, sir.”

At the table in the far corner of the room sat a graying senior squad leader, with several ledgers before him. His eyes followed Quaeryt as he approached, and he finally stood.

“Commander…?”

“Commander Quaeryt.”

“Oh, yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I need some information from you in order to follow up on a request by Subcommander Ernyld.” The sound of a door closing behind Quaeryt suggested that the young ranker who had escorted him-or someone else-had hurried out the front door as soon as he could.
Doubtless to let someone know that a strange commander is querying the clerks.

“Sir?”

“Lord Bhayar has asked me to assist in dealing with factors and suppliers who appear to be unwilling to supply provisions except at, shall we say, questionably high prices. To do this, I need the names of those factors, and the recent prices.” Quaeryt smiled politely at the head clerk.

“Sir … this is … unusual.”

“Anything involved with Lord Bhayar usually is. It is also generally urgent.” Quaeryt smiled once more.

“We could certainly supply that, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll wait while you or one of your clerks write down what I need.”

“Now, sir?”

“What better time? I can’t solve the problem without the information. You have the information. You write it down, and I get on with resolving matters.”

“This is unusual.”

“I believe you said that before.”

“Yes, sir.”

A quint later, Senior Squad Leader Alylor handed Quaeryt a short listing. “These are the prices we’ve been paying for the last month. In a moment Forawal will finish the listing of the factors with whom we’ve been dealing.” Alylor’s eyes flicked toward the door. “Oh … Subcommander Ernyld is here.”

Quaeryt neither turned nor rose until Ernyld was almost upon him. Then he stood and smiled politely.

“Commander Quaeryt … I hadn’t expected to find you here among the clerks.” Ernyld offered a wide smile in return, and one as false as warm sunlight in Ianus.

“I’ve been following up on your request for assistance in obtaining a fair price for provisions.”

“We should talk about it in my study.”

“We should indeed,” agreed Quaeryt. “After I finish here. It shouldn’t take long.” He image-projected friendly warmth.

For a long moment Ernyld said nothing. Then he nodded. “My study is above the main stable. Take the end outside staircase.”

“I’ll be there after I get the second list from your clerks.”

“Splendid!” Ernyld’s smile was clearly forced.

Alylor’s eyes followed the subcommander’s departure.

“The second list?” prompted Quaeryt.

“Oh … yes. Let me see if Forawal has finished it.” Alylor rose and scuttled to the other side of the study filled with clerks, tables, and ledgers.

Shortly he returned. “The first sheet is that of the factors with whom we have placed large orders. The second are those used but occasionally, usually for items of smaller quantities.”

Items for the marshal’s personal mess, most likely.
“Thank you.” Taking the small sheaf of papers, Quaeryt stepped away from the desk. “I do appreciate your courtesy and haste.”

“We do try to please, Commander.”

“Lord Bhayar will appreciate that.” With a last polite smile, Quaeryt turned, left the clerks’ study, and began the walk back to the main courtyard.

Quaeryt could sense Ernyld’s agitation from the doorway to the study of the chief of staff, but he said nothing as he entered and took a chair across the table from the subcommander. Then he smiled and said, “Your clerks were most helpful.”

“I had not expected such … an immediate response. I would have been pleased to have supplied the figures you needed without your having to take your valuable time to come and obtain it.”

“I am most certain you would have been,” said Quaeryt. “But, having been a princeps and a governor, I knew exactly what information I needed, and I would not wish the marshal to pay a silver more than required any longer than necessary. Lord Bhayar’s coffers are not endless, and maintaining thirty regiments far from Solis is costly.”

“That is true, but at times … perhaps not in this instance … failing to follow the chain of command can lead to misunderstandings.”

“You are most correct about that,” replied Quaeryt. “But this is one of those instances. The marshal, I know from experience, believes that certain accomplishments need be done in a most timely fashion, and your dispatch suggested that this was one of those times.”

“Ah … yes. He was most concerned.”

Most concerned to make the Ministry of Administration and Supply look slow and unresponsive.
“You can convey to him that we will be taking matters to the factors once we have made a quick investigation.”

“Might I ask…” At the look on Quaeryt’s face, Ernyld said quickly, “I suppose not.”

Quaeryt rose. “Once we have looked into the matter, I will let you know.” He could feel the subcommander’s eyes on his back as he left and walked down the outside stairs and made his way to where the gelding was tied.

Two quints later, he was back at the Chateau Regis talking to Vaelora.

“I’ve only glanced over the prices Ernyld is paying, but they look to be too high by one or two parts in ten. I didn’t tell him that because-”

“He’ll want you to do better than that … and he’ll take the credit.”

“He will anyway. I’ll have to meet with the factors’ council.”

“They’re restricting supplies like the factors in Laaryn did, aren’t they?”

“Most likely,” replied Quaeryt. “People don’t change the way they do business unless they can make more golds or unless their lives or their businesses are in danger. That seems to be especially true here in Bovaria.”

“There’s one other matter,” said Vaelora. “I was about to tell you, before the councilor arrived, that several factors who are located south of the Sud Bridge on the west river road sent a petition-”

“And they want the paved section extended to their factorages and warehouses? Preferably yesterday?”

“Of course.”

“And before long, those north of the Nord Bridge will be asking for the same. And if we manage to rebuild some of the east river road, then whoever isn’t served by the new good road will be complaining that they’re left out.” Quaeryt shook his head. “I thought the High Holders in Montagne were bad, but the more I encounter the factors of Bovaria…”

“They really haven’t been ruled in generations. Not effectively.”

“No. All Kharst wanted was his palaces and privileges.”
And his way with women, whether they were willing or not.
“We’ll have to change that, I think.”

Vaelora nodded, but there was a sadness to her small smile.

After they had dined on Jeudi evening, alone in the “small” family dining chamber of the Chateau Regis, a chamber a good ten yards by six, at one end of a table that could have easily seated half a score, Quaeryt and Vaelora repaired to their quarters on the upper level.

In the dim illumination of twilight, Quaeryt found himself pacing back and forth in front of the windows in the sitting room.

“What is it now, dearest?”

“I can’t help it,” Quaeryt said. “Every time I think about the Bovarian factors, or the High Holders of Montagne, I get angry.”

“Because all they think about is how many golds they can amass without counting the cost to others?”

“That’s part of it. But only part. Once they saw that the imagers could repair and improve roads, everyone wanted their road improved … as if the imagers had little else to do.”

“They see what they see. To them, it takes little time, and they think it is easy.”

“They only think it is easy. They don’t see that a moment of imaging can leave an imager so exhausted he can do nothing for a glass … or a day.”

“Or for weeks,” added Vaelora softly.

“They don’t see the thousands of deaths it cost to strengthen and perfect those skills. They don’t see all the imagers who died all across Lydar for generations because they were different. They don’t see the imagers who died because they couldn’t do enough or tried to do too much.”
Like Akoryt and Shaelyt.

“They don’t see how many nights you do not sleep or sleep badly,” added Vaelora. “They ignore the white hair, and the fingers you cannot move. Or that your bad leg troubles you more.”

“Are they all so greedy?” Quaeryt paused. “Are we greedy as well? And do not see it because we only see what we wish to see?”

“There are those who are greedy and those who are less so.”

“Rholan said something about that,” mused Quaeryt. “I don’t remember exactly how he put it.”

“Do you want me to find it?”

“You might as well.”
I’m too agitated to settle down.

Vaelora rose and walked into the bedchamber.

Quaeryt stopped pacing and looked out the window to the south. With the spring had come greenery, and most of the scars of the previous fall’s battle had either been removed by the imagers, by Bhayar’s forces, or been muted by the growth of grasses and bushes. Yet, for a moment, Quaeryt saw a land covered in ice, with everything in sight white, even though he had not ever actually seen that.
Only felt it … and endless ice within you.

Vaelora returned, holding the small leatherbound volume. “Would you like me to read it?”

“If you would.” He turned from the window and looked upon her, taking in once more the warmth that infused her, despite all she had been through … because of him.

She cleared her throat and began.

“Rholan claimed to be ambitious, but not greedy. He insisted that the distinction between ambition and greed was simple enough. Ambition was the setting of desired and fixed achievements and striving to accomplish them, while greed was the unending quest for more of whatever was desired, with no end in sight. Yet … what is the difference between a greedy man and one who, after establishing his one set of goals and achieving them, immediately determines upon another and greater set of achievements? Is there any difference? When asked this question once, Rholan simply said, ‘Knowledge,’ and refused to discuss the subject more. That was a practice he often used when he did not wish to defend a position that might have revealed any weakness on his part…”

Vaelora looked up. “There’s more, but it’s about his stubbornness.”

“Thank you, dear one. That’s the part I was thinking about,” Quaeryt said. “At least by Rholan’s definition, you and I aren’t greedy. Excessively ambitious, perhaps.” He paused. “I don’t do that, do I?”

“Do what?”

“Retreat behind a fortress of one-word cryptic statements.”

Vaelora laughed softly and warmly, closing the book as she did. “Never with me.”

“Are you saying I deluge you with words and ideas?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I have done so with you.”

“Especially in your letters. I still read them.”

“I know. It pleases me.”

“You please me.”

“Then let us talk of other matters than of greed and golds, of power and pride.”

“Such as?”

“Will you have gardens upon Imagisle? Fountains to cool the air on long summer days?”

“You’ve seen the plans. There will be gardens and greens, and there will be fountains, and places for children to run and play…”

Vaelora eased onto the settee. “Sit beside me. Tell me more.”

Quaeryt walked from the window and seated himself beside her. “I can only tell you of what I dream, for little beyond the roads and three buildings is there now.”

“Then tell me dreams, dearest…”

On Vendrei, Quaeryt was up early, and waiting in Bhayar’s study when the Lord of Telaryn entered.

“What disaster is about to befall us?” asked Bhayar sardonically.

“Why do you ask?”

“For you to be here well before seventh glass … it must be urgent.”