Rex Regis (27 page)

“Not urgent. Merely troublesome.” Quaeryt pointed to the conference table. “I need your seal and signature on these.”

“For what?”

“To deal with Bovarian factors, and possibly High Holders, in order to keep them from demanding prices that are excessively high, particularly in selling provisions to your armies, and so that I don’t have to do something to them that all of us might regret.”

“You will … and I will anyway, no doubt.”

“There are two documents. One for me, and the other for Vaelora. Each requires your seal, and each states that we are empowered to act in your name, as full ministers, in matters of administration and supply within the boundaries of Bovaria for the purpose of dealing with matters of import in administration and in obtaining any and all supplies necessary for the needs of Lord Bhayar, including but not limited to those required for the maintaining of forces or officials in the pursuit of law and order.”

“You think they’ll suffice?” Bhayar walked to the table and picked up one of the documents. “Without the threat of force?”

“They’ll make a veiled threat more veiled and thus more palatable. If nothing else, they’ll provide a rationale for punishing someone for not obeying.”

“Always useful,” said Bhayar dryly. “Why does Vaelora need one?”

“To do the same when you’ve sent me somewhere-like to Rivages to see why you haven’t heard from Submarshal Myskyl.”

“We’ll wait a few days.”

“As you command, sir.”

“Don’t press it, my friend.”

“No, sir.”

“I suppose another signature or two won’t raise significantly more problems than you’ve already created.” Bhayar sat down and signed one document, then the other. “Is there anything else?”

“Besides the fact that every factor in Variana wants a new road to his front door?”

Bhayar laughed. “I’ll leave the determination on which roads are built where to the Ministry of Administration and Supply for Bovaria.”

“That might be for the best.”

After exchanging pleasantries with Bhayar, Quaeryt left the study and walked down to the ministry studies, where he bestowed Vaelora’s certificate to her. “Your personal authorization to browbeat High Holders and factors.”

“I’m overwhelmed.”

“That makes two of us. I’m going to meet with the head of the factors’ council this afternoon … if he’s in.”

“You aren’t sending word?”

“No. I don’t want to leave the impression with Ernyld, and Deucalon, that we’re not acting immediately on his problem. If the chief factor’s not in, I’ll just leave an invitation for him to visit us on Lundi. The kind he’d be foolish to ignore.”

“You’re acting like a governor again.”

“I don’t think I did in Montagne … as I recall everyone telling me. This time … I’ll try to do it with polite meetings and a veiled approach.”
Not that your approach in Extela was in the slightest veiled.

“You can’t veil the power you hold, dearest.”

“No … but I can give them the chance to be reasonable.”

“Some will force the issue.”

“I hope not. I really don’t want to make too many examples.”

“You may not be able to avoid it.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the study door. “Amalyt D’Anomen to see you, Lady and sir.”

“The chorister at the Anomen Regis?” murmured Vaelora.

Quaeryt nodded to her, then said, “Have him come in.”

Amalyt, white-haired and as tanned as when Quaeryt had seen him nearly half a year before, stepped into the study. His lined face bore an expression that Quaeryt might have called stern but kindly … had he not already met the chorister. Amalyt’s gray vestments, unsurprisingly, were of a far higher quality than those worn by Gauswn.

“Greetings, honored chorister,” offered Quaeryt.

“Greetings to you, Lady Vaelora, and you, Commander.”

“What brings you?” asked Quaeryt.

“You may recall that Lord Bhayar was kind enough to employ his imagers to repair and rebuild the Anomen Regis…”

Quaeryt managed to smile politely, although that was difficult, since he had been the one to arrange for and oversee the repair. “I do indeed.”

“It has been brought to my attention that the Anomen D’Variana, located near the River Aluse, also suffered damage, if not so grievous, as a result of the battle of Variana…”

“And?” Quaeryt kept his voice pleasant.

“The imagers did such a good job in restoring the Anomen Regis that I naturally thought that they should be considered to repair the Anomen D’Variana.”

“I see.” Quaeryt kept his voice pleasantly neutral.

“It would appear that they are not unduly occupied.”

“Actually, they’ve been quite occupied, chorister, and there are only half the number of imagers here in Variana that there were when they repaired your anomen.”

“Still … it should not take that long.”

“All I can promise is that we will look into the possibilities.”

Amalyt looked from Quaeryt to Vaelora. “Lady … if you might intercede. The faithful would appreciate any assistance.”

“I fear, Chorister Amalyt, that what Commander Quaeryt has told you is quite true. The number of imagers is limited, and the tasks assigned to them already will take some considerable time.”

And one of the precepts of the Nameless is for those who can to make the best efforts they can, for the Nameless helps best those who help themselves.
Quaeryt kept that thought to himself, recalling all too well how intransigent the chorister could be.

Amalyt offered a heavy sigh. “Chorister Bryal will be most discouraged. We had so hoped.” He paused. “I would not wish to have to be the one to tell Bryal that Lord Bhayar could offer no encouragement.”

“You do not have to tell Chorister Bryal anything,” replied Quaeryt, “save that you have brought the matter to Lord Bhayar’s attention. There are many demands upon him and upon his men and resources.”

“That is so, but I would have hoped, especially with your scholarship and knowledge of the Nameless…”

“As Rholan once said,” replied Quaeryt, “to imply or to seek the favor or lack of favor on the part of the Nameless to obtain a human goal or end is in itself a form of Naming.”

Amalyt’s eyes hardened.

“We will look into the matter,” Vaelora promised, gently.

“I do hope it will be soon, Lady.”

Vaelora smiled warmly. “We will do what we can.”

Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora spoke until the study door was firmly closed behind the departing chorister.

“If we don’t do something,” Quaeryt said, “he’ll spread the word that the imagers are creatures of the Namer, or something like it.”

“And that Lord Bhayar cares little about the anomens of Variana.” Vaelora gave the smallest of headshakes. “I’ve only seen him twice, but there’s something about him … like he’s a creature of the Namer.”

“You haven’t had another farsight?”

“No. Only the one about you being surrounded by something.”

“You can’t tell me more?”

“No. You were in light and then suddenly trapped in total darkness.”

Quaeryt almost shivered. He’d never liked confined quarters … ever. “Why do you feel that way about Amalyt?”

“It’s a feeling.”

“He’s definitely a hypocrite. The richness of his vestments alone proclaims that.”

“He’s worse than that. I couldn’t tell you why.”

“He’s likely to be the first of many. The way matters are going, everyone with any degree of power is going to come through that door asking for the imagers to do this or that. If we say no, because they’re involved with something else…”

“They’ll claim Bhayar doesn’t care … or the imagers are too proud to help anyone.”

“I think we’re just going to have to tell them all that the imagers have nowhere permanent to live, and that until they have time to build their own quarters, they’ll only be available for the most urgent of tasks-such as replacing failing bridges across the River Aluse. Or something equally vital.”

“What will you do about the Anomen D’Variana?”

“I’ll send Baelthm to look at it. Then we’ll figure out what we can do. It might only need moderate repairs.”

“It needs more than that,” said Vaelora. “Chamion wouldn’t be here begging, otherwise.”

Quaeryt had no doubts that she was likely correct.

For the next several glasses, he and Vaelora worked, with more than a few interruptions, to finish the changes to the proposed code of laws, which now included a section on factors. Then Quaeryt went over the simple supply reports from Ernyld’s clerks in an effort to get a better feel and understanding of the supply problems. Then he wrote out a shorter version of one of Alylor’s lists.

A little before noon, he rode out from Chateau Regis, heading along the road toward the Nord Bridge, accompanied by four rankers, the smallest number that seemed appropriate for a commander and a minister. He also carried full imaging shields, both to maintain his abilities and with the awareness that after what had happened to Skarpa there was always the possibility, however small, that he could be a target.

The sky was overcast, unlike the previous days, and a cool, almost chill, wind blew out of the northwest, where in the distance Quaeryt could see darker clouds, but the gray clouds overhead were high enough that he didn’t expect rain immediately. Whether the rain would hold off until he was back at the Chateau Regis was another question.

While people on the street glanced at him, taking in the uniform of a Telaryn officer, the looks were almost cursory-as they had been in most places in Bovaria after the initial shock of seeing Telaryn forces had passed.
Almost,
mused Quaeryt,
as if who ruled mattered far less than how they rule.
Or perhaps the apparent attitudes of people reflected a fatalistic feeling that Bhayar and his troopers couldn’t possibly be any worse than what they had endured under Rex Kharst and his sire. There did seem to be more vendors and people along the north road, but whether that was because of the improvements to the road or simply because life was getting back to a normal fashion was something Quaeryt had no way of telling.

Had he not made inquiries he might well have dismissed the modest structure situated on the corner of the east river road and an unnamed lane just past the Hotel D’Variana, which looked less imposing than many inns he had encountered over the past two years. He reined up outside the small two-story building, dismounted, and handed the gelding’s reins to the nearest ranker.

“I hope not to be too long, but one never knows…”

“We’ll be here, sir.”

Quaeryt strode toward the door, almost stumbling as his left boot heel caught the top riser of the three stone steps leading to the entry. He caught himself, opened the door, and stepped into a small and low-ceilinged entry hall.

The clerk seated behind a narrow table in the middle of the hall looked up as Quaeryt walked toward him. His eyes widened as he took in the uniform and Quaeryt. “Sir?”

“Commander Quaeryt. I’m also Minister of Administration and Supply for Lord Bhayar. I’m here to see Factor Chaekyr.”

“Is he … expecting you?”

“I hope not, but he will wish to see me.” Quaeryt projected a sense of authority.

“I will tell him you’re here, sir.” The clerk rose and headed for the door at the right side of the hall, through which he disappeared after opening and closing it barely enough to squeeze through.

Quaeryt waited, not terribly long, but enough to observe a fly making several circuits around the table that the clerk had hastily vacated, before the clerk returned.

“Factor Chaekyr will be happy to see you, sir.”

Happy? I think not.
“Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded and made his way to the door that had been left just slightly ajar, stepping through it, and closing it behind himself.

Chaekyr D’Factorius had dark brown wavy hair, pale and watery green eyes, and a full square-cut beard of a shade redder than his hair. He looked to be roughly ten years older than Quaeryt as he rose from behind a broad and empty polished wooden desk that was likely older than Quaeryt.

“What can I do for you, Commander? Or is it ‘Minister’?”

“It’s both, but ‘Commander’ will do for now. I’m here to discuss the price of flour and other supplies.” Quaeryt gestured for Chaekyr to sit, then sat down in the left chair of the two facing the head of the factors’ council of Variana.

Chaekyr frowned. “I don’t see what that has to do with me. Prices are set by each individual factor, not by the council.”

“Once … I would have thought that as well.” Quaeryt smiled politely. “I doubt you know this, but I served as the princeps to Governor Straesyr of Tilbor. The princeps deals with matters of commerce. Then I was appointed governor of Montagne. The war came along, and Lord Bhayar needed my talents in that fashion. Recently, Lady Vaelora and I concluded a mission to Khel. Along the way, we encountered, shall we say, a misunderstanding about grain and flour shipments from Laaryn, and I had to investigate how prices were set…” Quaeryt looked directly at Chaekyr. “Now, I find, as was the case in Laaryn, that every factor who supplies grain and flour, as well as other items, sets his price at exactly the same level as any other factor, and that price is far higher than it was before or during the war. Some of that, obviously, occurs because we are farther from last year’s harvest. That, I understand. A gold and two silvers for a barrel of flour, I don’t. Especially when it appears that others pay lower prices.” That was a calculated guess on Quaeryt’s part, but it fit the patterns he’d seen.

“I cannot tell others at what price…”

“Head factor…” Quaeryt said mildly, but projecting authority. “I am merely suggesting that those factors who attempt to obtain excessive prices for goods traded at lower prices to those besides Lord Bhayar’s forces are acting most unwisely, particularly since it appears most likely Lord Bhayar and his successors will be ruling Variana for many, many years.”