Rex Regis (9 page)

“We had not expected visitors,” said Nephyl, “and what refreshments we can offer are perforce limited.”

“We understand,” replied Quaeryt. “We had not intended to be visitors, but we could not pass up the opportunity to visit another High Holder.”

“You have visited many?”

Quaeryt frowned, trying to make a quick mental calculation. “I would say a score or more, in one fashion or another, but that is just an estimate.”

“You are the seventh hold in southern Bovaria,” added Vaelora.

Quaeryt’s eyes darted to the narrow side hall where he saw the maid whispering something to a taller young woman with curly brown hair, wearing a hip-length gray silk jacket over gray trousers and a bright yellow silk blouse. The taller woman slipped away from the maid and hurried into the entry hall.

“My wife, Mergiana.”

“I apologize. I had just come in from riding. We had not expected such distinguished personages.” Mergiana’s voice was warm, although her smile was tentative.

“We’re pleased to meet you,” said Vaelora warmly.

“If you would join us in the salon,” suggested Nephyl. “It does have a lovely view of the river.”

Quaeryt stayed close to Vaelora, his shields covering them both, as they followed the couple, both far closer to Vaelora’s age than Quaeryt’s, down the larger corridor that led straight back from the entry hall. Mergiana leaned toward her husband and murmured a few words. While Quaeryt could not hear them, he could sense the urgency behind them, and he strengthened his shields.

Some twenty yards down the corridor was an archway into a large chamber that stretched some fifteen yards toward the river. Wide windows overlooked a roofed terrace beyond, the roof clearly being necessary so that those on the terrace could enjoy the breezes and the river view in late afternoon.

Nephyl gestured toward a settee and the chairs flanking it, all facing the river.

Quaeryt guided Vaelora to the far end of the settee, then stood beside the chair, waiting for the holder and his wife to take their places, seating himself as they did, with Mergiana taking the place beside Vaelora.

“My wife informs me that you, Commander, are somewhat more than a commander, and that the lady is also more than that.”

Quaeryt smiled. “I am a commander in the Telaryn forces, and I do have the honor to be married to Lady Vaelora, who is indeed the sister of Lord Bhayar, and who is returning from a mission as envoy to the High Council of Khel.”

Nephyl frowned, as if uncertain as to what else he might say without being impolite.

“I believe my husband was referring to the fact that you both appear to have a Naedaran background, and such is rare these days.”

“It is no secret that Lord Bhayar’s family is half Pharsi,” said Quaeryt, “and I was an orphan who did not discover I was of Pharsi blood until I was full grown.”

“My maid Semila is of that background,” pursued Mergiana. “She says that you bear all the … attributes of those who are sometimes called sons of Erion.”

Quaeryt shrugged, as if helpless to refute the statement.

“My husband can be modest about such,” said Vaelora. “He has always believed that actions define someone better than words. He is the most effective commander in all my brother’s armies. He just returned from the conquest of Antiago.”

“Antiago…? It is also in Lord Bhayar’s hands?” asked Nephyl. “What of the Autarch … and his Antiagon Fire … and imagers?”

“The Autarch and most of his troopers are dead, as are most of the imagers,” replied Quaeryt. “We also destroyed perhaps seven or eight warships as well. Submarshal Skarpa is acting governor of Antiago.”

“The world has changed … greatly … in the last year,” said Nephyl slowly.

“It will continue to change in the year to come,” observed Quaeryt. “You may have received a summons to pay a token tariff for the past year. If you have not, you will.”

“Token? How great a token … if I might ask?”

“A hundred golds, I believe.”

“Some might not consider that a token.”

“Perhaps not, but he is also requiring token tariffs from the factors, and there is much that needs to be done in Bovaria, such matters as rebuilding neglected roads and applying the same laws to all. Lord Bhayar would prefer not to remove High Holders, but he will do so if they do not pledge allegiance to him and pay their tariffs.”

“I had not heard…”

“There were four High Holders near Kephria,” said Vaelora. “They did not believe the commander. Their holds no longer exist. There is not a stone remaining. There are other High Holders who did. Outside of the token payment, and occasionally the purchase of supplies at a cheaper rate, they remain untouched.”

“Lord Bhayar is a man of his word,” declared Quaeryt.

“And so are you, it is said,” suggested Mergiana. “Can you assure us-” She stopped at a sharp gesture from Nephyl.

“We have no intention of doing you any harm,” replied Quaeryt. “Lord Bhayar expects allegiance and loyalty. We’re here to let you know that, not to strip your holding or destroy it.” He smiled politely. “I understand that your holding is known for the fine pale yellow bricks that appear to have built every structure in Eelan, Faantyl, and many elsewhere, as in Daaren. Tell me about that, if you would.”

“Ah … yes.” Nephyl cleared his throat. “My great-great-grandsire was fortunate enough to discover that the lands on the far side of the Phraan contain great deposits of a fine clay…”

Quaeryt listened, but remained alert. So did Vaelora.

In the end, Quaeryt and Vaelora only stayed a little over a glass at Lehyln before they returned to Eelan. Although staying at Lehyln would have been far more comfortable than at the Silver Swan, Quaeryt wanted to save his impositions on High Holders for the times when they were truly necessary. He also hoped the combination of power and forbearance would make an impression on Nephyl and Mergiana, but there were times when he wondered if anything except absolute power made any impression on anyone. Still … he felt he had to try.
And hope it won’t be your undoing.

Both Vaelora and Quaeryt were happy to leave Eelan early on Samedi morning. Again they found the road to the north a packed dirt track in the middle of what once had been a road almost twice as wide. They also managed to travel almost fifteen milles before Quaeryt and the imager undercaptains had to replace and rebuild yet another bridge.

By the following Meredi afternoon, as they neared the town of Berryhyl, Quaeryt could take a certain satisfaction in the number of bridges and causeways that they had improved or replaced. At the same time, he was astounded and amazed at the number.
Was that a passive defense against the depredations of Kharst and his predecessors? Or did Kharst create his elite corps of crossbow assassins because the roads precluded use of troopers with any haste? Or did they go together?

Quaeryt doubted that he’d ever discover an answer. He did know that one likely duty for imagers in the years ahead would be the gradual improvement of roads, if only to bring them up closer to the standards of Telaryn highways.

As he and Vaelora rode closer to the town, he saw low hill after low hill seemingly covered with bushes set in neat rows. A closer look showed that on more than half of the hills the bushes appeared not to have been that well tended recently, with undergrowth around them, and in places, goats, sheep, and cattle grazing in, on, or around the bushes.

Quaeryt did notice one young shepherd take a look at the troopers and immediately begin to use his dog and his staff to try to move the flock up over the hill and out of sight of the road.

“He didn’t want us getting any ideas,” observed Vaelora.

“Something like that,” said Quaeryt.

Then, in the midst of the hills filled with berries, was a larger hill on the east side of the road. The top of the hill bore traces of a fire, and there were clumps of stone and brick scattered down from the crest across ground that held but a few scattered scraggly bushes and patches of weeds. The devastation continued on the slope west of the road, all the way down to the Phraan River, where Quaeryt could make out the charred remnants of several piers, some scarcely above the water, but most below it and barely visible.

“It looks like someone salted the ground,” said Vaelora. “Is this what you were telling me you’d seen along the Aluse on your way to Variana?”

“This looks older, but the holding’s been treated the same way.”

“You think it was Kharst?”

“More likely his father or grandfather.”

“And they didn’t give the lands to another High Holder?”

“If they did, whoever received them doesn’t seem to care much for them.”

Vaelora shook her head.

Farther north of the devastated hold, for almost a mille, the berry-bush-covered hills continued. Then past a stone wall in advanced disrepair, there was a small holding with neatly trimmed and tended trees, apple trees, Quaeryt thought.

A few hundred yards later was another millestone: BERRYHYL-2 M.

Quaeryt gestured to Vaelora, then called to Zhelan, riding ahead of them with Baelthm. “Major?”

“Yes, sir?”

“According to the maps, there’s nowhere else to stay for at least another ten milles, and it’s already past fourth glass. If there’s anything that looks feasible here…”

“Yes, sir.”

Even from the southern edge of the town proper, with older, if small, stone and timber houses, all neatly kept, Quaeryt gained the impression of a place that had once been prosperous, but that still took pride in its appearance. They rode past several dwellings that looked to be empty, but which were still well kept.

There was a large inn on the square. That Quaeryt could see from three blocks south. By the time they reached the square, it was clear that the three-story Berry Inn was the largest inn they’d seen since Daaren, and possibly even larger than the Grande Laar Inn there. Its timber and stone construction gave it a more rustic appearance. Quaeryt did see that all the windows on the south wing were shuttered, but even the shuttered wing seemed to be well maintained.

A glass later, Quaeryt and Brem, the innkeeper, a muscular but trim graybeard, had reached a satisfactory arrangement, and Vaelora, Quaeryt, and Brem sat at a circular table in the spacious public room.

“It’s slow this time of year,” admitted Brem. “When berrying season comes round, we get more visitors. Still can’t fill the inn, not like in the old days.”

“The town took its name from the berries on the hills, then?” asked Quaeryt.

“That’d be so, sir. Folks called the holder High Holder Berryhill. Don’t rightly recall what the family’s real name was. The place was burned out by Rex Kharst’s sire when my da was a boy. He said you could see the flames from here in town.”

“What did the holder do with all those berries?” asked Vaelora.

“They made jams and jellies and fancy sauces. They raised game fowl and fed ’em on the berries. My da said the holder shipped them downriver on his flatboats all the way to Kephria. That was when you could do that. River’s never been the same since they built that Great Canal. Don’t see why it was necessary. You could use the river all but three months out of the year.”

Quaeryt nodded, not voicing the thought that one major difference was that the canal allowed goods from the north and west to travel to and from Variana, not just one way, all year around. “Why did Kharst’s sire burn out the High Holder?”

“One day … one of the sons of the rex came to visit. That was Rex Kharst’s sire, but it was before he was rex. No one knows what happened. Some say he fancied the young wife of the holder. Others say he fancied the brother of the wife … Anyway, he left in haste and in anger. Weeks later the troopers came.”

“And no new holder came?” asked Quaeryt.

“The lands belong to the rex. Well, they did. I suppose they belong to Lord Bhayar now. Back then, the council sent a missive to Variana asking who to expect as the new High Holder. Never received an answer. So the folks graze their flocks there, careful like, and pick the berries. No one says much when travelers come during berrying season, but…” The innkeeper shrugged, then looked at Vaelora. “Might your brother be appointing a High Holder to bring back the berrying?”

“He will be appointing some new High Holders,” Vaelora conceded, “and I will certainly bring Berryhyl to his attention.”

“Be a shame for the lands to lie so poorly used,” added Brem.

“But it would take the right kind of High Holder,” Quaeryt said.

“Aye. Not ones like some around Semlem.”

“What do you know about them?” asked Quaeryt, for whom Semlem was just a town on the map located some fifty milles upriver.

“There’s two, maybe three, from what I hear. One was killed last fall when you folks defeated Kharst. He was the worst. Used to ride into town with his armsmen and pick up any lass he fancied. No one ever saw any of them again.”

“No one did anything?” asked Vaelora.

“He had two hundred armsmen. He owned the silver mines in the hills to the east. They say his heir’s not much better, but who would know?”

“And the others?” prompted Quaeryt.

“Can’t say I know, except one of them would graze his cattle on the lands of freeholders whenever water or forage got short. He’d just laugh and tell them to ask Rex Kharst for relief.”

After more stories, and another quint, Vaelora glanced meaningfully at Quaeryt.

Quaeryt smiled and rose, as did Vaelora. “We appreciated hearing what you had to say, but we’ve had a long ride today, and there are a few other matters we need to address.”

“I’d not be meaning to take your time…”

“No … the pleasure was ours.”

Quaeryt and Vaelora retreated to their room, one of the “grand chambers” overlooking the river, with not only a large and firm bed, but a separate bathing chamber, if one that required water be carried up by the inn’s chambermaids, a task Quaeryt had arranged.