Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (36 page)

“And yet, Lady Vaelora, your husband’s very words belie what he professes.” Grelyana turned and gestured toward the wide archway. “The east terrace is most pleasant in the early afternoon, and I have some early tomatoes from the hothouse. And the lemon tart is absolutely delicious. You’ve always liked that, Lady Vaelora, from what I recall.”

Quaeryt and Vaelora exchanged glances after the factoria turned. Then Vaelora offered the slightest of shrugs and a grin.

Quaeryt managed not to laugh, but that was the last time he felt that way for several glasses.

Just long conversations and the light refreshments offered by the factoria after the indirect agreement on the purchase of the villa took the rest of the afternoon and gave Quaeryt a headache—which he tried to conceal from Vaelora.

But by the time they returned to the post and Quaeryt had instructed Jhalyt on the necessities regarding the purchase of a governor’s residence—and the clerk seemed not in the slightest bit surprised—the throbbing in Quaeryt’s head had subsided even before he located Skarpa outside the officers’ mess.

“I’m sorry…” he began. “I was called away earlier before I could find you. That’s not the best reason for not telling you immediately that—”

“Pharyl and Hrehn are going to clean up your Civic Patrol?” Skarpa smiled. “It’s better that way. Some officers—and they’re probably not like that, but too many are—start to get too cautious once they’re close to getting a stipend.”

“I did say they’d stay on the rolls.”

“We can do that. They won’t draw pay for that time, but it won’t affect their stipend, and since it won’t, I don’t imagine they’ll complain.”

“I do apologize…”

“Governor, sir … you’ve got more on your platter than you should have.” Skarpa grinned. “And being married to Lord Bhayar’s sister … that has blessings, too, and I’d imagine some of them come from the Namer.”

The reference to the Namer reminded Quaeryt of something else he’d forgotten, that he’d have to come up with a homily for services on Solayi. “She’s beautiful and intelligent, and she cares for me and I for her. I’m
most
fortunate in that.”

“She was raised in a palace, and you’ll always have to look over your shoulder for her brother. Better you than me, sir.”

Quaeryt shrugged, not quite theatrically, then said, “Now all I have to do is find a justicer.”

“Can’t you act as justicer? Governor Rescalyn did for a bit.”

“If I have to, I will. I’d rather not. Have Dhaeryn and Heireg returned?”

“I haven’t seen either.”

Quaeryt hoped that all had gone well in setting up the procurement of planks and timbers, but if it hadn’t, he’d find out all too soon.

After taking his leave of Skarpa, he rejoined Vaelora in their temporary quarters.

She was sitting on the end of the bed when he closed the door. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Was it that obvious?”

“Not to Grelyana, I think. Her husband was said to be quiet in social situations.”

“I’m still not used to weighing the indirection of every last word.”

“You were never bad at that, and you’re getting better.”

Quaeryt certainly hoped so.

“Grelyana knows about the lost ones,” observed Vaelora.

“She almost said directly that we were going to upset your brother’s rule and life far beyond what he expects and that she was going to enjoy it. Did he ever do anything to her … or her late husband? I assume her husband’s dead,” Quaeryt added quickly.

“He died five years ago. He never had children by his first wife. Their son is eight…”

“So she’ll be in control…” Quaeryt shook his head. “The factors don’t give the title of factorius or factoria unless it’s earned. That means she’s truly in charge.”

“You think that she created the rumor that she had to sell the older villa at a loss?”

“I don’t think so. I think she wants the thousand golds now because she can do more with the golds than with the villa, and some goodwill from the governor and Lord Bhayar’s sister won’t hurt, either. What does she factor?”

Vaelora frowned. “Metals … copper, tin, and her husband had an ironworks.”

“
She
had the metals factorage before she married?”

“Oh … you wouldn’t know. She had far more than that. Her family had only daughters, and she married Raansyd the day before the family estate would have gone to her cousin. Raansyd was kind enough, but it was the only way to hold everything. Besides, he needed her and her family. He was close to losing everything. She saved it all. Well, her family helped some.”

“She’s part Pharsi, then?”

“I don’t know. No one’s ever said, but many of the factoring families here have Pharsi blood. Not quite so many as in Khel.”

“Not quite so many as there once were in Khel,” said Quaeryt dryly.

“Thanks to Rex Kharst … and the Red Death.” She paused. “Is it true that he attacked in the depth of winter after he heard that a third of Khelgror died?”

“I hadn’t heard that before. I wouldn’t put it past him. The plagues tend to die out after cold winters.”

“He must have lost more men to the winter.”

“That didn’t seem to bother him.”

Vaelora shook her head. “Now he wants to use our weakness against us. Have you heard anything else from Bhayar?”

“No. I only got his dispatch on Mardi, and I sent back a report on Meredi. He won’t even have mine until next Lundi night at the earliest, I’d judge. If we get a dispatch now…”

“We’ll be at war—or worse.”

Quaeryt nodded. After a moment, he asked, “Are you pleased with the villa?”

“Oh, yes. It’s big enough for a governor, but not too big…”

He smiled and listened as she began to tell him of her plans.

35

Quaeryt didn’t sleep all that well on Vendrei night, because he kept waking up and asking himself what he’d really gotten himself into. Except it hadn’t been totally his choice, and accepting Bhayar’s decision and marrying his attractive sister hadn’t seemed that onerous. He just hadn’t thought through all the ramifications.
You only thought you had.

But when he looked over through the dimness at Vaelora’s sleeping face, he could only smile … and he did finally drift back into slumber.

After a breakfast of overcooked eggs and near rancid and greasy sausages, the idea of eating where Vaelora had some control over the food had even greater appeal, although he suspected it would be weeks before anything like that occurred … and it would likely take more golds than either of them anticipated.

Immediately after breakfast, after seeing Vaelora off to meet once more with Grelyana, he met with Dhaeryn and Heireg in the small study that felt even smaller. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, but just asked, “How did you work out things with Thysor’s timbermaster?”

“He can supply everything we need,” replied the engineer major. “He won’t give us a price until he delivers. His best estimate is three hundred golds for both planks and support timbers. It’ll be another week before he can deliver the heavy support timbers. He’s got enough seasoned stock, but they’ll have to be milled.”

“While you’re waiting on the timbers, can you work on the mortar and repairs to the River Aqueduct?”

“We’ve started on that. The hardest part will be getting to the red clay quarry. The road’s blocked in two places by lava. We’ll have to use horses to pack it out.” Dhaeryn shrugged. “We can do it, but it won’t be quick.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help looking puzzled.

“We need the old red clay from near Mount Extel. We have to add that to the mortar mix and gravel to make the concrete watertight. Otherwise the water will wear away the repairs in weeks. No more than months anyway.”

“Only that kind of clay?”

“It’s the only kind around here, sir. I understand there’s something like it in Antiago, but it’s more grayish there. They say you can only find it near volcanoes. I wouldn’t know. I do know that when we use the red clay, except it’s not quite like other clay, the concrete will harden solid even under water.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quaeryt admitted. “When will your men be able to finish the cells in the patrol station?”

“It might be Meredi. No longer than the end of next week.”

When he had finished talking with Dhaeryn, and the engineer left, Quaeryt turned to the supply major. “Are there any other surprises?”

“Besides what we’ve paid out for flour and potatoes? No, sir.”

“Good. Because I have one. I ended up agreeing to purchase a residence for the governor … and for every governor who follows me. We’re going to have to transfer some funds to a Factoria Grelyana.”

“The metals factoria. They say she’s wealthier than most of the High Holders in the province.”

“We need to make arrangements to pay her for the dwelling. Her former villa. The total comes to twelve hundred golds.”

“Jhalyt mentioned that he was working on the documents with the steward.” Heireg frowned. “For just twelve hundred golds? That’s a big villa…”

“Factoria Grelyana was charitable…”

The major raised his eyebrows.

“Call it self-interestedly charitable. She suggested the price was a favor. I suggested that Lord Bhayar had lost far more to Mount Extel than anyone in Extela and that increased tariffs to pay for things, such as to replace a governor’s residence, were in no one’s interest. She preferred golds to the villa, and no one else was likely to buy the villa anytime soon.” That was a guess on Quaeryt’s part, but he would have wagered that was so, particularly since the villa had been vacant for some time, from what he observed when they toured it, despite what Vaelora had said earlier about the lack of suitable and available dwellings. “It’s likely to be far less expensive—and take less time—than building one.”
Particularly of that size in that kind of location.

“No doubt of that, sir. What about furnishings?”

“I don’t know yet. The factoria has agreed to provide some that were originally in the villa. I’ll have to have Jhalyt set up an account ledger for the residence and staff. In time, when the regiment leaves, I’ll also have to hire some guards.”

“Governor Scythn detailed some of the rankers from the post to the governor’s square.”

“I might have to do that for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t want to make that the permanent way of handling it.”

“I can see that, sir.”

Quaeryt could sense the approval behind the major’s quiet words.
Every day you find out another place where Scythn was diverting funds or resources. Are all governors like that?
What he’d discovered so far suggested that Bhayar needed a better system of governing the various provinces, and especially for keeping High Holders like Wystgahl in line, but even considering how that might be done would have to wait … for some time. And who knew if Bhayar would even consider changes?

No sooner had Heireg left than Commander Skarpa was at the door. Quaeryt motioned him inside.

Skarpa sat down and announced, “One of the patrols caught some young fellows last night.”

“The way you’re saying that, I have the feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“You won’t, sir. They’d tried to break into a house on the west side.”

“Women?”

Skarpa shook his head. “A factor from Solis. Well, he came from Solis, but he’s been here several years. His name is Hyleor. He and his brothers take delivery of spices from Otelyrn in Solis. Then they bring them upriver and sell them. On the return, they buy mountain herbs and send them downriver and ship them … wherever.”

“What happened last night?”

“Some locals dragged Hyleor out of his house and were starting to beat him. The squad rode up and ran them down. One of the men tried to gut one of the ranker’s mounts. The ranker hit him with the flat of his sabre. Knocked him cold. The problem is that he took a couple of steps before he passed out, and he fell on one of those pointed iron fences. The point went through his eye. He’s dead.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” asked Quaeryt.

“The young fellow who attacked the ranker was Versoryn. He’s the nephew of a High Holder around Ilyum. The High Holder’s name is Cransyr.”

“What were they doing attacking a factor?”

Skarpa shrugged. “No one seems to know.”

“Did they catch any of the others?”

“Just one. Versoryn’s brother. He claims that the rankers threw Versoryn onto the fence. He said his uncle knows Lord Bhayar well enough to have them all executed.”

“I’ve never heard of High Holder Cransyr.” Quaeryt laughed sharply. “Unhappily, that doesn’t mean anything. There are far too many that I don’t know. What did you do with the brother?”

“He’s in the brig here, and he’s not at all happy about it.”

“Did anyone see what he did?”

Skarpa shook his head. “Even the factor couldn’t say who attacked him—except for Versoryn. Hyleor recognized him because Versoryn had a scar across his cheek and jaw.”

“He didn’t recognize any of the others?”

“He says he doesn’t.”

“What did Versoryn do? Was he a factor … or what?”

“No one seems to know. He was well dressed. So is the brother.”

Quaeryt was getting a very bad feeling about what had happened. A factor had been attacked, but could only recognize one conveniently dead attacker, and both the dead man and his brother were well dressed, without any known profession, and claimed a High Holder connected to Bhayar as their “uncle.” “I should talk to the brother. Do you know his name?”

“Vhalsyr. That’s what he says, anyway. I can have the brig guards bring him here, if you’d like.”

“That would be best, I think.” Quaeryt understood Skarpa’s quiet suggestion that governors did not visit offenders, as well as a recognition that Quaeryt had once … and a hint that he should not have.

“Then, I’ll have the guards take care of it. They’ll wait outside.” Skarpa rose.

A half a quint later, a thin brown-haired man, scarcely more than a youth, stood before Quaeryt, his face holding an expression close to but not quite a sneer.