Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (22 page)

“Where were you before, if I might inquire?”

“I was princeps of Tilbor.”

“Ah … that explains it. You have both knowledge and experience in dealing with supplies and disorder. Tell me. Have you known Lord Bhayar long? In a close personal sense, I mean? I can recall when he summered here as a youth.” Chaffetz smiled warmly, but condescendingly.

“Not that long compared to some,” replied Quaeryt thoughtfully, letting the silence draw out for several moments. “Fifteen or sixteen years. We had the same tutor in Solis. He was trained in warfare and politics. I was trained at sea and in scholarship.” Every word he spoke was true, if not quite in the way he implied.

Chaffetz continued to smile, but Quaeryt sensed that the High Holder was far warier than he had been moments before.

“Might I ask … if you would not mind, what forces you brought—you did bring forces, did you not?—to restore and maintain order in Extela?”

“At present, we have two battalions. Within a few days we will have a full regiment.” Quaeryt smiled. “We came ahead while the engineers were repairing the main bridge in Gahenyara.”

“And what is this matter of less than routine that brings you to Chaffhyem?”

“Grain and supplies, both for the garrison and for the city.”

“I am always most willing to supply both. Of course, in a time when both are difficult to find…” Chaffetz shrugged. “We all do what we must.”

“I am most certain, and in complying with Lord Bhayar’s commands, I will also do what I must. I am seeking several hundred barrels of flour and an equivalent amount of potatoes…”

“They can be had … of course … but I must insist on payment in hard coin.”

“You will receive payment in such … but I do doubt that Lord Bhayar would be pleased with the term you used … that you must … insist.”

“A figure of speech, surely.”

“I understand that the winter price of flour was eight silvers a barrel.”

“That was before the difficulties in Extela, Governor.”

“So it was. So it was. And for that reason, I will buy four hundred barrels of flour from you at nine silvers a barrel … and the flour will be the best you have. As for the potatoes, I will buy five hundred bushels at five coppers for every two bushels.”

Chaffetz’s mouth dropped open. “Those terms are preposterous … Governor. When grain is so dear…”

“There are costs, and there are costs,” Quaeryt said gently. “If people get so desperate that those remaining leave the city and seek food where they can find it … that will ravish the small holders who have no walls and armsmen. In turn, that will reduce the tariffs I will have to collect for years to come. I will, of course, have to explain to Lord Bhayar that the desire to extort exorbitant profits on the part of the High Holders was the cause of this disaster, and I am rather loath to do this. Nor do I wish to use soldiers against poor starving people. If that were to occur I would lose some soldiers and blacken Lord Bhayar’s name.”

“I feel for your position, Governor, but I must look to my future as well.” Chaffetz smiled with false sympathy.

“I fear you do not understand. Your wife has been talking with mine, I believe. I suggest … in fact, I
insist
that you talk with your wife before you make any decisions you will regret.”

“Governor … I must protest…”

“Talk to your wife.” Quaeryt smiled coldly. “I will wait.”

Once Chaffetz left the study, Quaeryt walked to the narrow second-level window nearest one of the ancient oak bookcases and glanced out. Behind the chateau was a walled and slightly sunken garden with paths edged with cut black stone and surfaced with glittering white gravel. A boxwood hedge maze was centered on a fountain depicting a partly draped woman above an empty fountain pool. While there were trimmed juniper and pfitzer topiary sculptures in places, most of the trees were deciduous and leafless.

At the sound of bootsteps on the marble of the corridor Quaeryt turned and waited for Chaffetz.

The High Holder closed the door and walked to the edge of the table. His face was flushed, and he was trembling ever so slightly, largely with suppressed rage, Quaeryt suspected.

Quaeryt waited.

“You … you have placed me … in a situation…”

“No…” replied Quaeryt. “Circumstances and Lord Bhayar have placed us both in difficult situations. I am offering you an eighth part more than you would have received for the flour had there been no disaster, and one part in four for the potatoes. I am not commandeering your goods—and that I could have done.”

“I doubt—”

“Do not doubt. The regiment that I command fought and destroyed the hill holders of Tilbor, and the least of them had many times the armsmen you could muster. This is Lord Bhayar’s ancestral homeland. He would not see it prostrate. Nor would I. Nor would he think you were being unduly harmed by taking an extra profit of one part in eight. The other High Holders will take the same terms.”

“You leave me no choice.” Chaffetz’s voice was hard. “But Lord Bhayar will hear of this … high-handed effort.”

“Times leave me no choice,” Quaeryt replied. “Nor do I have time to bicker and bargain, not while people are starving.”

“You will regret this … in time.”

Quaeryt smiled and said warmly, “I do hope, for your sake, that it does not come to that.” He smiled. “Now that we have settled that, we should join the ladies, don’t you think?”

“You think, Governor…”

“No … High Holder, I know, and I know Lord Bhayar far better than do you. The last thing he wants is to be petitioned by a High Holder who is
only
making a significant profit, rather than an exorbitant one.” Quaeryt gestured toward the study door. “We should talk with the ladies, and you can tell us all about your holding and about that magnificent walled garden I observed through the window.”

“You don’t…”

Quaeryt image-projected total self-assurance.

Chaffetz seemed to shrink where he stood. Then he took a slow breath. “I suppose that would be for the best.”

Quaeryt had no doubts that Chaffetz would never forget or forgive, but then, the man would never have offered reasonable terms for his goods except in the face of greater power. That, he’d come to learn, was true of most High Holders.

24

Quaeryt and all but one squad of his entourage, as High Holder Chaffetz had termed it, left Chaffhyem at slightly after ninth glass and arrived before the more modest chateau of Aramyn by two quints past noon. The squad that had been detached, at Vaelora’s suggestion, was stationed on the post road to intercept any messenger that Chaffetz might be sending to Solis. Quaeryt did not intend to stop any such message, merely to delay it, add a message of his own, and send it on its way, but with the regular post rider to Solis. If Chaffetz dispatched no messenger, Quaeryt would simply report on his acts and the responses of the High Holders. What he didn’t want was an inaccurate and inflammatory letter going directly to Bhayar, not without the full story.

Aramyn’s chateau was not of stone but of a yellowish red brick, and appeared to be far older than Chaffetz’s hold. It sat on a low rise in the middle of a park, set in turn in the middle of a vast expanse of fields and a few meadows. Aramyn was better informed, inclined to be more hospitable, or had better trained functionaries, because Quaeryt and Vaelora were immediately invited inside and promptly joined by the High Holder and his wife.

Almost as quickly, Quaeryt found himself in a goldenwood-paneled study, whose shelves were crammed with books, standing talking with Aramyn, who showed little sign of offering a chair or wishing to seat himself. The High Holder had thinning black hair and a narrow face, with deep-set brown eyes separated by a straight thin nose. His forehead was furrowed, although his skin elsewhere was largely unwrinkled. Quaeryt judged him to be some fifteen or twenty years older than Quaeryt himself.

“Governor, I take it that this is not exactly a visit of courtesy, even with your wife accompanying you.” Aramyn paused. “Her name—Vaelora. It is not exactly common. I can recall only one other woman by that name, although she was but a child of four or so the last time I cast eyes on her. Also, while you are certainly no stripling, you are on the young side to be appointed a regional governor.”

“I’m arriving from the position of princeps of Tilbor.”

“Most interesting, I must say. I take it that you were involved in the last battles against the hill holders.”

“I was involved in the entire campaign and wounded in the final battle,” Quaeryt admitted.

“I wondered. I notice you have a slight limp.”

Quaeryt did not disabuse Aramyn’s conclusion, but waited to hear what else the other had to say.

The older man smiled. “Even more interesting. A scholar who has seen battle and who has served as a princeps married to a woman named Vaelora. You are both fortunate and unfortunate, Governor.”

“Might I inquire as to why you think so?”

“Much will be expected of you, in terms of accomplishment and loyalty. Perceived loyalty can often conflict with accomplishment. That has proved to be especially true, given the temperament of the descendants of Lhayar.”

Quaeryt certainly couldn’t disagree with Aramyn’s assessment.

“What are you here to ask?”

“For you to sell me supplies—at the price of nine silvers a barrel for flour and five coppers for two bushels of potatoes.”

Aramyn nodded. “You offer a modest profit. Might I ask why you are not commandeering those supplies?”

“I have no interest in forcing High Holders to pay to help others, since much of what I buy will help feed those left in Extela. I’d prefer that they not feel obligated to complain to Lord Bhayar.” Quaeryt grinned. “And that, if they do, he can see that they have no cause for such.”

“I will meet your terms, Governor. I have two requests, however. First, that you inform Lord Bhayar that I have done so without complaint.” Aramyn paused. “It is no secret that my sire and Lord Bhayar’s sire did not see eye to eye. I would wish that be laid to rest.”

“And second?”

“The answer to a question. How did you ever persuade her to marry you?”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but laugh. When he regained his composure, he replied, “I didn’t. Bhayar commanded us both. He said that I needed to be tied more closely to him, and that she needed to be married to someone suited to her—and quickly, so that he could actually spend time ruling.”

A broad smile crossed the lips of the High Holder. “Only someone trained as a scholar would be bright enough for her, from what I have heard. He must have known you well, then.”

“We had the same tutor years ago, and I have served him, on and off, since then.”

“How did you end up in Tilbor?”

“I made the mistake of saying I wasn’t about to advise him on how to handle matters in Tilbor without having been there. He sent me.” Quaeryt shrugged.

“So you are not afraid to tell him what he may not wish to hear?”

“I have my concerns, but I’ve been able to do so and survive.”

“May you always do so.” After the slightest hesitation, Aramyn said, “Let us determine how much flour and potatoes you require and when. Then we will join the ladies for refreshments … if you have time. I will also offer some to your soldiers.”

“We do, and I believe Vaelora would enjoy that very much. I know I would.”

In the end, Quaeryt and Vaelora did not return to the post until after third glass.

The squad dispatched to watch the south road returned to the post less than a quint before sunset, reporting that no one at all had been riding south.

Once they returned to the post, Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Jhalyt went to the strong room and counted out all the coins in the unlocked chest. It turned out that there were some coppers, and silvers, and the total came to 2,891 golds, 43 silvers, and 11 coppers. Quaeryt had the clerk enter that as the starting balance on the master ledger. The other chests could be counted later, and their balances added in, but given that Quaeryt would soon be paying out golds, he needed to keep track from the start.

Then he met with Meinyt about a possible Civic Patrol building. Meinyt reported that Captain Taenyd had found a vacant factorage not too far from the east bridge.

“Good. We can get started on fixing it and gathering the patrollers.”

“It’s not in the best part of town, sir,” Meinyt pointed out.

“That’s most likely where we’ll need patrollers. Can you work out with Major Dhaeryn how to get some men to make it usable? We can post notices asking for workers.”

“He’ll have more than he’ll want,” replied the major dryly.

“That might well be, but we don’t want troopers acting as civic patrollers any longer than necessary.”

“No, sir.”

After Meinyt left, Quaeryt found Jhalyt and Baharyt and gave them instructions, with Baharyt getting the task of finding out exactly where the patrol building-to-be was and coming up with a simple map so that Jhalyt could include it on the notices that would be posted.

After they left, Quaeryt just sat for several moments.

Should you have started with trying to reconstitute the Civic Patrol?
He shook his head. That would have been foolish until he knew how he would have to pay for it … or anything else. But … it still bothered him.

Later on Jeudi night, well after dinner, and after he’d filled Vaelora in on what else had happened, the two of them stood on the stone balcony of the officers’ quarters, looking eastward where the two moons had lined up, one above the other, a symmetry that occurred so seldom that he could not recall the last time that had happened—and this time, the red-tinged half moon of Erion was above the half disc of the pearly-golden Artiema.

“What are you thinking now?” asked Vaelora.

“The moon of vengeance above the moon of love.”

“Isn’t that the way it’s been throughout time?”

“I suppose it has been.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

“You handle officers and troopers, patrollers, and repairs well enough. It’s dealing with High Holders that you’re not fond of, isn’t it?”