Rex Regis (37 page)

By midday on the following Solayi, Quaeryt and his two companies had just passed through a small hamlet some 150 milles north of Variana … or so he judged from the maps and his own calculations. He had used the imagers, as well as his own talents, to repair and strengthen a handful of bridges, although none had required the amount of imaging necessary just north of Caanara, and in one place, to fill and pave a section of the river road where it had descended into what would be a morass with the slightest amount of rain. Along the way, they had passed two older ruins of what might have once been high holdings, one of which appeared to have been abandoned and dismantled in an orderly fashion, with only the foundations remaining. The other had been burned, but not recently

When Quaeryt had inquired about local High Holders, he’d discovered that there were several in the areas where he asked, but all at least ten milles from the River Aluse. That didn’t exactly surprise him, and he continued to be appalled at the state of what was the major road north from the capital. And, according to the maps he had and what he’d asked of the locals, no one knew of any better roads.

The weather continued hot and damp, and Quaeryt was continually drenched with sweat. He had decided to alternate the lead companies, but keep the imagers with him, as well as ride for a time with each imager. On Solayi, Elsior was riding beside Quaeryt for the first time, with Calkoran and the two imager undercaptains immediately behind.

“Where were you from?”

“Navarou … it’s a fishing village on the coast south of Westisle, sir.” The slender dark-haired youth sounded almost apologetic.

“Your family is Pharsi?”

“My mother is.”

“Are there many other Pharsi in Navarou?”

“No, sir. She washed up on the beach after a storm. She was clinging to some timbers.”

“Where was she from?”

“She would never speak of what happened or where she was from, sir. All she said was that the past was a closed book, and that only the hand of Erion would ever open it.” Elsior smiled. “She never expected I’d run into one.”

“Beware of names placed on you by other people.” Quaeryt shook his head. “Tell me about you and her, if you would.”

“She was a seamstress, and a fine one. Folks come from towns along the coast for her to sew their fine garments, for weddings and the like. We had a little cot at the base of the hills. There was enough to eat, for the two of us, anyway.”

“Did your mother ever speak of your father … or was that part of the closed book?” Quaeryt tried to keep his voice light.

“No, sir … excepting she did once say that his station was naught to be ashamed of. I was born soon after she washed up.”

“I’m assuming that when your mother said something was closed, it was closed. Did she have the farsight?”

Elsior tilted his head, as if considering, although Quaeryt couldn’t tell whether he was considering whether his mother did or whether he should say anything. Finally, he said, “She never said she’d seen something that would happen, but there were times when she should have been surprised and she wasn’t.”

“What about you?”

Elsior shook his head. “If anyone needed farsight…”

“How did you end up as an imager for the Autarch?”

“What else would I do after she died?”

“Oh … I didn’t realize…”

“Folks didn’t say much so long as she was there, because there wasn’t anyone who could sew like she could, but they always looked away from me.”

“Did you image a few extra coppers for her?”

Elsior grinned. “Of course. Not too many, and I gave them all to her. She knew, but she said that so long as I never had coppers no one would think about my being an imager. If she had a few more coppers, who would know?”

“Did you have trouble being accepted as an imager by the Autarch?”

“It wasn’t easy. Before you’re apprenticed to a master, you do anything wrong, and you could be blinded.”

“How long…”

“I was lucky. Only a year after they took me in.”

Elsior’s tone conveyed anything but luck, but Quaeryt didn’t pursue that. Instead, he asked, “What do you think about Imagisle and the Collegium?”

“You are right, sir. Imagers do need a place where they’re not special and not feared. I think that living in Navarou would have been hard as I grew older. Even the imagers’ quarters in Liantiago were better than what most of the others went through before they became imagers for the Autarch.”

“Do you have any suggestions as to what might make Imagisle better?”

“Good beds and a library! Khalis has been working with me to improve my reading and writing so that I can write Bovarian as well as I can write Pharsi.”

“Why do you think a library is important?”

“Because my mother said it was. She taught me Pharsi, but she didn’t speak Bovarian that well.”

“She must have been from Khel, then.”

“She never said.”

“You said that, but it makes sense. Navarou is south across the Gulf from Khel. If she were shipwrecked coming out of Kherseilles or Pointe Neiman … or even coming from the ports on the west of Lydar…”

Elsior nodded.

Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder just what lay behind the covers of the closed book that had been the past of Elsior’s mother, just as he’d wondered the same about his own parents when he’d been as young as Elsior. But there was little point in pursuing that. Instead, he asked, “How are you coming with your shields?”

The young imager smiled happily. “Khalis says that mine are almost as good as his. Well … if I keep them close to me. I can’t extend mine as far as he can. Mine aren’t nearly as strong as yours.”

“How do you know that?” Quaeryt asked, almost in jest, because he didn’t think Elsior had ever been that close to him when his shields had been under attack.

“Oh … I can sense shields.” Elsior looked almost embarrassed.

“By pressing yours against others?”

“No, sir. I’ve always been able to sense shields. Yours are stronger than any imager’s, even the best of the Autarch’s imagers. You always carry strong shields all the time, don’t you?”

“I do that to keep in practice. You ought to try the same.”

“I’ve been doing that, sir. So have Khalis and Lhandor. They told me that.”

Quaeryt smiled wryly.
Those two would.
“Do you know if other imagers can sense shields the way you do?”

“I don’t know, sir. I never told Magister Trewyno.”

“Because revealing something was dangerous?”

Elsior nodded.

“From how far away can you sense shields?”

“Not all that far. It depends on the shields. For you … maybe a hundred yards.”

Quaeryt pondered that for a moment and was about to ask another question when he saw one of the scouts riding back toward them. He waited until the trooper had turned his mount and was riding beside him before grinning and asking, “What is it? Another bad bridge or a swamp?”

”No, sir. The road’s about the same as always. Just thought you’d like to know. There’s another burned-out hold up ahead, sir, maybe a half mille around the bend in the river. Doesn’t look like anyone’s nearby, but there are sheep in the pasture to the north and in the fields across from it to the east.”

“Thank you.”

As the scout rode forward to rejoin the other scouts, Elsior asked, “Sir? Is it true that Rex Kharst burned the places of High Holders he didn’t like?”

“He burned the holdings of those who displeased or angered him.”

“Why? He could have killed them and kept their goods and valuables.” Elsior immediately added, “I don’t mean … I mean that’s not good, but … if you’re going to take people’s things, why destroy them? That’s stupid.”

“He may have taken their valuables and any livestock. He probably did, but we don’t know for sure.”

“But these hold houses … they’re worth a lot.”

“And in some cases, he salted the land immediately around the house so that little of value would grow there.”

Elsior shook his head. “The Autarch wasn’t even that bad.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“No, sir. Most imagers never did. That’s what Magister Trewyno said. Will we ever meet Lord Bhayar?”

With a slight jolt, Quaeryt realized that none of the imagers had properly actually met Bhayar-and that wasn’t good. After a moment he said, “Some of the imagers who were with me from the beginning have seen him, fairly close up. I will make sure, once we get back to Variana, that you all get a chance to meet him.”

“What is he like, sir? They say you were students together.”

“We studied with the same scholar. It might be stretching matters to say that we were students together, although that is how we came to know each other.” Quaeryt paused. Exactly what could he say that was both accurate and not misleading in some way or another? “He wants to be a strong ruler, but not a cruel one. He does his best to be a just ruler. I cannot recall a time when he has executed a High Holder or someone who served him, although he has discharged those who have failed him, or sent those who made mistakes to lesser posts, sometimes in most remote regions. He is deeply in love with his wife and, to my knowledge, has never taken a mistress. He does have a temper, but when he is truly angry he turns stern and cold. He has, I believe, deferred too much upon occasion to the High Holders of Telaryn, but that is because he relies more heavily on their tariffs than he should.” Quaeryt thought about saying that Bhayar wanted to unite Lydar into one land, because Bhayar believed that there would always be war if someone did not, but decided against saying that because he suspected that was as much his own goal as Bhayar’s. Bhayar had only talked about the need to conquer Bovaria because whoever had been rex there had always caused trouble for Telaryn.

“How well do you know him, sir?”

That’s a very good question.
“I suspect I know him as well as anyone besides his wife and mine. It helps that Lady Vaelora can offer insights.”

Elsior nodded.

Before that long, Quaeryt and Elsior were approaching the burned-out hold house. As was often the case in Bovaria, along the rivers, the road swung away from the water, so that the hold house sat at the top of a slope overlooking the river. Only the stone foundations of the gateposts remained, and a stone-paved drive ran due west toward the ruins.

The hold house had been extensive. That didn’t surprise Quaeryt. What did was the fact that the damage looked to be comparatively recent … sometime within the last year, possibly less than six or seven months ago. The remaining brick walls held soot that was largely still black, but there was no odor of smoke or recent fire. The grounds were still black, and nothing grew up through the charred soil, a fairly good indication that the ground had been salted as well-and, given the lack of tilling, possibly through imaging.

Why did Kharst have imagers torching and destroying high holdings in the middle of a war?
The more Quaeryt saw of Bovaria, the less he felt he understood.

* * *

“It was a large hold.” Elsior shook his head.

“Most of those burned were,” replied Quaeryt.

Once they were well past the ruins, Quaeryt sent Elsior back to rejoin the other imagers and motioned for Calkoran to rejoin him.

“The young one, he looks like he came from Khel,” observed the older subcommander.

“It’s likely his mother and father did, but he doesn’t know.”

Calkoran nodded. “There have been many like that over the past years.”

Quaeryt removed his visor cap and blotted his forehead, then replaced the cap. He turned toward Calkoran. “It may be two weeks before summer’s here by the calendar, but I’d say that it’s already arrived. This is almost as bad as Solis at this time of year.”

“Then I would not wish living in Solis on anyone,” replied Calkoran in his accented Bovarian.

“At least, we haven’t had much rain-except for that shower on Vendrei, and not having rain has been good for travel,” said Quaeryt.

“Don’t speak that too loudly,” replied Calkoran. “The rain listens and will come when you least desire it.”

“You’re probably right about that,” admitted Quaeryt ruefully.

“Commander, sir!” came a call from the shoulder of the road behind Quaeryt. He glanced back to see a ranker riding forward. “Sir! Major Zhelan requests your presence. Fifth squad captured some dispatch riders.”

Quaeryt’s reaction was immediate. “Company! Halt! Pass it back!”

Once everyone had reined up, Quaeryt turned to Calkoran. “Subcommander, I’d appreciate it if you’d accompany me. I’m certain Major Eslym can guard the road.”

“He can indeed.”

“Undercaptains! You’re to remain here to protect the company. Major Eslym is in command.”

“Yes, sir!” rejoined Khalis and Lhandor.

“That includes you, Elsior,” Quaeryt added.

Quaeryt followed the ranker back along the worn shoulder of the rutted dirt road, finally coming to a halt at the end of the column, where Zhelan rode up to meet them.

“What happened?” asked Quaeryt, reining up.

“The rear scouts saw three riders in uniform in the distance. I thought they might be dispatch couriers. So I stationed a squad in the woods beyond the ruined hold, and they let them pass and then captured them.”

“Didn’t they see first company?” asked Quaeryt.

Zhelan smiled. “I asked them that. They did. They were given orders that if they came upon Telaryn troopers, they were to hold back. When they could, without being seen, they were to go around the troopers and continue on. They were told that was to avoid unnecessary delays, since the dispatches didn’t concern us. They didn’t hold back far enough.”

“Do you have the dispatches?”

“There was only one in the pouch.” Zhelan leaned forward and handed the sealed missive to Quaeryt.