Rex Regis (42 page)

The north terrace was roofed and off a small salon and occupied the northwest corner formed by the center square of the main section of the house and the north wing. Caemren gestured to a table set back from a small fountain, comprised of what was meant to be a stone seasprite with water spraying up from its blowhole. Quaeryt had only seen one of the shy creatures ever, but they didn’t look much like the statue. He seated himself across the small circular table from the High Holder.

For a moment Caemren looked closely at Quaeryt, who had removed his visor cap and set it on the edge of the table. Then the High Holder nodded. “Lord Bhayar’s said to be part Pharsi. You his tribute officer?”

“Hardly. I was a scholar before the war. I ended up directing troops in Tilbor during the hill holder revolt. I was appointed princeps after the fighting was over. What with one thing and another, when Kharst attacked Ferravyl, I ended up commanding a company, then a battalion, then a regiment.”

“You ever lose a skirmish or a battle?”

“No. Except for the first skirmish, when I was just observing and took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder.”

“You look like the Pharsi descriptions of a hand of Erion, and you limp. You paint your fingernails?”

“No. After the battle of Variana, they turned white. So did my hair.”

Caemren nodded again. “What do you want?”

“Information.”

“Fair enough. About what? Or who?”

“The High Holders around Rivages. Are there others besides Fiancryt and Ryel?”

“Two others. Paliast and Daefol.”

“What about them?”

“I’ve nothing to say. They’re non-entities who mean nothing and who will defer to anyone who has power in order to keep their lands and privileges.”

“That’s it?”

“What else is there to say? You must know the type.”

Quaeryt couldn’t contest that. So he went on. “Most towns in Bovaria only have one or two High Holders.”

“Rivages is a city, not a town. It is a place unto itself. It was also the home of Caldor.”

“The unifier of Bovaria.”

“So-called unifier. The Yaran warlords who were your Lord Bhayar’s forbears were paragons of virtue by comparison.”

“And Rivages has not changed much since?”

“With High Holders such as Ryel and Fiancryt in power and indulging Kharst’s every whim? How could it change?”

“I’d be interested to hear what you know about High Holder Fiancryt, the late High Holder, rather than his heir … if he has one.”

“Ah, yes. Fiancryt. Interesting fellow. He kept to himself and his lands when he was in Rivages, but he was very social in Variana. He married twice, both wives to his advantage. He obtained additional lands from his first wife. Cytha was the sister of Ryel, the father of the Ryel who died when Lord Bhayar took Variana and destroyed the Chateau Regis…”

Quaeryt didn’t bother to correct Caemren, but continued to listen.

“The lands were thought to be worthless, but Fiancryt found coal there. Cytha supposedly died of a fever she caught from her eldest daughter, who also died. That left Fiancryt with a son. He was about ten. After Cytha conveniently died, Fiancryt wasted no time. His second wife is said to be beautiful, but in the way a good blade is beautiful. Never talked to her, and I don’t care to. Myranda came from Variana. She was once a favorite of Kharst’s. Nameless knows how she survived, but Fiancryt’s fortunes improved even more after he wed her. Of course, he was at Chateau Regis when it fell to the brother of all storms.” Caemren looked guilelessly at Quaeryt. “It was either that, or a storm brought by the hand of Erion.”

“It froze all of Kharst’s troopers and anyone who was in or around the Chateau Regis,” Quaeryt said evenly.

“That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“I had something to do with it.”

“That’s like saying winter has something to do with the cold.”

“Myranda wasn’t in Variana?” Quaeryt really didn’t want to say more. For all of Caemren’s gaudy finery, Quaeryt trusted the High Holder less than any he had met, if for reasons he couldn’t voice.

Caemren laughed, a softly ironic sound. “She never set foot in Variana after she wed Fiancryt. It’s been said that was one of the conditions. I don’t know that it was her condition, either. Kharst was said to be wary of her after a time. I saw the way every eye turned to her when she entered a chamber in Variana.”

“I thought you hadn’t met her.”

“I saw her. That was enough. Even most men who don’t like women were caught by her presence.”

“What about Fiancryt’s son? The heir?”

“He died this winter. Fell in the river on a hunt. He was with his stepmother and the Telaryn submarshal.” Caemren’s eyes, hard and intense green, focused on Quaeryt. “That’s why you’re asking all these questions, isn’t it?”

“I’m just following Lord Bhayar’s orders to see what the situation is in Rivages. I take it that Myranda has a son by Fiancryt?”

“She has a son. He was born at Fiancryt.”

Most likely by Kharst.
That was the conclusion Quaeryt reached by the way Caemren had spoken. “What else should I know about Myranda and Fiancryt?”

“Does it matter?”

“It could.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if Lord Bhayar turned Fiancryt-without the lady-over to the most loyal and least corruptible officer he has.”

“I’ll pass that on.” Quaeryt nodded. “What about Ryel?”

“He’s dead. His widow is an outlander. She’ll do fine … if Bhayar lets her.”

“He already has,” replied Quaeryt.

For the first time in their conversation, Caemren showed a brief flash of surprise. Then he smiled. “Your doing?”

“Yes. And Lady Vaelora’s.”

“You knew her … before?”

Quaeryt shook his head. “I knew who she was. I never met her until she came to Variana to petition Lord Bhayar to hold the lands for her children.”

When Caemren did not speak, Quaeryt asked, “Who else might be able to tell me about what has happened in and around Rivages in the past two seasons?”

“Besides Lady Myranda, you mean?”

Quaeryt nodded.

“You might try Seliadyn. His hold is in Vaestora. That’s some fifteen milles south of Rivages. He’s … different. He’s also one of the oldest High Holders, and he has ways of finding out things. That’s if he’ll talk to you.”

“He’ll talk to me.”
One way or another.

“You don’t take no for an answer, I see.” The High Holder smiled, then added, “Sometimes, it’s better not even to ask.”

Quaeryt thought about that and smiled. “That’s a very good point.”

“I thought so.” Caemren stood. “You ought to be about your business, Commander.”

Quaeryt didn’t object. He just stood. “Thank you for the time and information. I do trust that you pledge allegiance-and tariffs-to Lord Bhayar.”

“With men like you supporting him, how could I do otherwise?” Caemren gestured toward the open door from the salon, then turned and led the way.

“You might because it’s the wisest course.” Quaeryt followed the older man.

“Wisdom is always of the moment, Commander. That is something I’ve learned to my regret. When the moment changes, so does the wise course.”

“I can’t argue that, but I will say that Lord Bhayar generally chooses well for those who serve and support him.” Quaeryt wanted to get the point across that Bhayar had chosen others of capability.

“A host of good and capable men can be brought low by one who is evil and excellent, especially one without principles.”

“I’ve seen that.”

“So have others, but most good men hesitate to act until it is too late.”

But acting too soon is as much a danger as too late.
“Timing is everything.”

“So it is. So it is.”

When they reached the portico, Caemren looked to Quaeryt. “A pleasure meeting you, Commander.”

Quaeryt thought he actually meant it … although he wasn’t totally certain about the reasons behind Caemren’s statement. “And I you.” He could feel those intense green eyes on his back as he walked down the steps, took his horse’s reins from the waiting ranker, and mounted.

As Quaeryt rode down the paved drive, he thought over the meeting. One thing was certain. The more he learned about Bovaria, the more he realized that Bhayar would need the imagers far more than even Quaeryt himself had realized. Far more, but that was assuming he was successful in dealing with whatever schemes Myskyl and Deucalon had set in motion … and although he couldn’t have said why, every conversation he had with either factors or High Holders made him more and more concerned about just what the relationship between Myskyl and Deucalon, and the Bovarian High Holders and factors might be.

By midday on Samedi, Quaeryt, riding with Calkoran’s company, was some ten milles north of Yapres under a sun that seemed just short of blistering. The road remained as good, if not better than it had been coming into and leading into the town. Quaeryt couldn’t help wondering if that was at least partly because the distance from Variana was great enough that Kharst wouldn’t have known the condition was better? Or because he had seen little point in marching troopers hundreds of milles over bad roads to get to good ones?

As a matter of caution, he’d also instructed Zhelan and Calkoran, whenever they were in the rear, to maintain scouts a good half mille behind the squad acting as rear guard both to avoid any surprises, and in case Deucalon had sent another courier. He also instructed the scouts forward of the vanguard to pull back if they saw any Telaryn riders approaching so as to allow them closer to the lead squads. Quaeryt could only hope that would give his forces a chance to capture such dispatch riders or Telaryn scouts before they turned and galloped back to Rivages to report to Myskyl.

“The road’s really good,” said Zhelan. “It’s like we’re in another land.”

At Zhelan’s remarks, Quaeryt almost froze in the saddle.
Another country? Maybe that’s exactly what most of the High Holders here believe.
Was that another reason why Tyrena had traveled to Variana to petition Bhayar to hold on to control of her lands for her daughter? That certainly fit with what Quaeryt had learned from Laedica and Daalyn.
But Myskyl can’t believe that Bhayar would let him set up his own land.

Quaeryt shook his head. Myskyl didn’t have to believe that. He only had to persuade the High Holders and factors of the north that their only chance for continuing their privileges and power was to back an overthrow of Bhayar-and Quaeryt and the imagers.
And you’ve played right into that by disciplining High Holders and factors for their high-handed ways-except those high-handed ways are exactly what they’ve always done and what they believe is their due.

If that was what Myskyl and Deucalon were doing … he had to admire their strategy, but it raised even more questions about exactly what he could do to thwart it-and them-without destroying the regiments Bhayar needed to unite Lydar.

“What is it, sir?” asked Zhelan.

“I was just thinking. Your point about the north of Bovaria being a different land may be truer than you thought.”

“Do you think that’s because of the High Holders?”

“They’re at least part of the problem. I doubt they’re all of it, but they could be. We’ll just have to see.” And Quaeryt wasn’t looking forward to that.

About a glass later, Quaeryt saw all three scouts heading back toward first company at a good pace-a moderate canter, he thought. “Trouble of some sort ahead … or dispatch couriers.”

“It could be both,” suggested Zhelan.

“You’re cheerful,” said Quaeryt sardonically.

“It is Bovaria, sir.”

“You would remind me of that.” Quaeryt laughed.

In less than half a quint, the lead scout had reined up-just after Quaeryt ordered a halt.

“Sir! Three Telaryn riders headed this way. We saw them as we came over that rise and pulled back. They didn’t see us. They kept riding, anyway.”

“Were there any riders behind them?” asked Quaeryt. “A squad? A company?”

“Didn’t see any, sir. No road dust behind them, either.”

“Good. Scouts, move back of the head of the column.” Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Undercaptains. Khalis! Raise a concealment shield across the road so that it looks empty. Elsior, stay and support Khalis. Lhandor, you come with me. Major, send a man back to request Subcommander Calkoran join you. I’ll need five rankers to follow us. They’ll have to stay behind us so the riders won’t see them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt gestured to Khalis, then raised his own concealment shield as he urged the gelding forward at a fast trot, in order to be as close to the rise in the road as possible, just in case the Telaryn riders from the north saw dust or something else that would cause them to turn once they rode over the low rise whose crest was still a good two hundred yards ahead. Five rankers from first company fell in behind Quaeryt and Lhandor.

“Do you think they’ll try to ride away, sir?” asked Lhandor.

“Don’t you?”

After a moment the undercaptain nodded. “They’ll have been given some believable reason to avoid any other Telaryn forces. Just like the other courier.”

Quaeryt and his small party had covered a little over a hundred yards when he caught sight of a rider in a Telaryn uniform, then another. “Off the road … on me,” he ordered quietly, but firmly. “We’ll try to let them pass, so that they’re caught between us and first company.” With that, Quaeryt guided the gelding off the road and turned him to face the road, his head about two yards from the outer edge of the shoulder. “A line along the road, even with me.”

Once the five were lined up, Quaeryt turned to Lhandor. “You’ve practiced putting shields around others, right?”

“Yes, sir … if they’re not too far away.”