Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (40 page)

“How are things coming?” asked Quaeryt.

“The cells are finished, and three of them already are in use. We’re feeding them bread and cheese and watered ale.”

Quaeryt hadn’t even thought about feeding arrangements, or dealing with prisoners, but there was no help for that, even if he still weren’t certain what he would do about justicers. He feared that he’d have to act as one, and after having read little more than a third of Ekyrd Huelsyn’s treatise
On Law and Justicing,
he was already painfully aware of too many things in law about which he knew nothing. “What are the offenses?”

“Two thefts and one assault. That’s one reason why I wanted to talk to you. And there’s another. An advocate for that young fellow you’ve got locked up here appeared. He wanted to know when Vhalsyr’s hearing is scheduled. I said I’d have to check with you. He’ll be back to see me tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll have to do that as soon as possible. His uncle is a well-connected High Holder. He’s a cousin of Lord Bhayar. And since we have to deal with Vhalsyr … we might as well do them all. How long will it take you and the engineers to set up the large meeting room as a justicing hall?”

“We only need something that will serve as a justicer’s desk. By Lundi, certainly.”

“Set up the hearings starting at eighth glass on Lundi morning. I’ll just have to act as justicer. I just met a while ago with the former low justicer.”

“I gather he was as bad as the former chief?”

“How do you compare rotten apples?” asked Quaeryt dryly. “How is Hrehn handling the patrollers?”

“Very well. They need a big, strong, tough, and smart captain. No one’s about to question him unless it’s serious, and that’s the way it should be.”

“And you?”

“We need more patrollers.”

“We need them soon. Lord Bhayar just sent a dispatch saying that Third Regiment will have to leave no later than mid-Mayas, and possibly in as little as ten days … if he sends orders. From the way he describes what the Bovarians are doing, it’s going to be sooner than Mayas. Can you start looking for recruits?”

“I already have. Regular patrollers, patrollers second, that is, they start at a silver a week. I’d like to start recruits at five coppers until they complete a month’s training, then pay them eight coppers a week for two months probation. That way, the existing patrollers don’t see the new men as immediately being paid the same.”

“You have my approval. Anything else?”

“No other problems. I did find out a few things you might find interesting. One reason why there were more offenses in the southeast quarter of the city was that the entire quarter was handled by one patrol. The northwest quarter—most of that’s now under ash and lava—had two patrols assigned, and the northeast and southwest had three patrols between them.”

That didn’t surprise Quaeryt either. “So you’ll just put two patrols in each of the remaining quarters?”

“That’s my plan.”

“It’s a good one.”

“There are a few other things … The pleasure houses…”

“The old high justicer told me that Hyleor owned part of them. What did you find out?”

“Faastyl did, like you thought. So did Scythn and Graefsyr, but they all sold out to Hyleor, even before the eruption, according to a couple of the older patrollers. They didn’t put it quite that way, but it was clear enough.” Pharyl paused. “Wasn’t Graefsyr the one who was the head justicer?”

“He was. I didn’t know that, but Vhalsyr—he’s the nephew of High Holder Cransyr, the one the troop patrol picked up—he claims that Hyleor was feeding young girls Otelyrnan drugs and then sending them to the pleasure houses.”

“Getting them to smoke elveweed, most likely.”

“Are the pleasure houses still open?”

“They never closed. They never do. Except for the fancy one in the northwest quarter. It was just two blocks from the governor’s square.”

“Then there’s likely to be a new one somewhere in the west part of the city before long … if it’s not there already.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“What else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” asked Pharyl sardonically.

Quaeryt laughed, briefly, then said, “There is one more thing.” He handed a list to the chief, a copy of the one he’d jotted down after meeting with Aextyl. “These are factors here in Extela about whom the former high justicer, possibly the last honest one, had some concerns. As you can find out from the patrollers and others, anything you can learn might be helpful.”

“Might take a while.”

“That’s why you’re getting it now.”

Pharyl nodded.

As soon as the chief left, Quaeryt hurried out to round up an escort to ride out to Hyleor’s dwelling once more—since the trader apparently had no other place of business. He hoped the factor would be there, because he really didn’t want to ride out on Samedi … although he would if he had to.

Two men were unloading a small high-wheeled wagon, carrying sacks into a shed at the rear of the dwelling, when Quaeryt approached the house, with a front garden surrounded by a waist-high brick wall topped with ironwork spikes on every post. The ends of the spikes would have been chest-high on Quaeryt. He frowned. For a tall man to fall on one was not impossible … but it was unlikely. Still, all the reports confirmed that Versoryn had attacked the trooper with a long knife and tried to gut the man’s mount. After a moment, Quaeryt rode down the narrow rutted drive at the side, where he reined up and dismounted, handing the mare’s reins to the ranker who had accompanied him.

The burly man, several digits taller than Quaeryt and broader as well, with heavy-lidded eyes, a fleshy face, and shiny black hair—presumably Hyleor himself—turned and waited.

“Trader Hyleor?”

“Who else?” His eyes flicked from Quaeryt to the ranker, and then to the squad of troopers drawn up in the street at the end of the drive. After a moment he studied Quaeryt. “A visit from the governor himself. What a surprise.” The sardonic tone to his words was as heavy as the man himself.

“I came by earlier, but I understand you were traveling.”

“You waited long enough. I had business.”

“I’m sure you did. So did I.”

Hyleor waited, as if challenging Quaeryt to speak.

Quaeryt didn’t mind, but he did let the silence draw out for a bit. “My troopers reported that a gang of men tried to attack you.”

“Tried? They dragged me away from the wagon and into the street. They laid whips on me. If that was just trying, I’d not want to know what succeeding might be.”

“Did you know any of them?”

“I’d never seen any one of them before that.”

“Then why do you suppose they attacked you?”

“Who knows?” Hyleor’s snort was accompanied by an expression close to a sneer. “Rumors, I’d guess. Everyone thinks spice and herb traders trade in elveweed and curamyn … or worse. We’re the last ones who do that.”

“The last ones?”

“Everyone thinks we do. We get stopped and searched by the governors’ men—or Lord Bhayar’s—in every province. They never find anything. That’s because we know we’ll get searched, and it’s not worth the danger.”

“There’s no law against it.”

“Law? Who said anything about law? I suppose you’ve released that little snot your men caught. Too bad he didn’t suffer the same sort of ‘accident’ his brother did.”

“How did you know they were brothers?”

“It would have been hard to ignore. He was screaming that the troopers killed his brother. He kept yelling about it until they gagged him and carted him off. You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one,” replied Quaeryt pleasantly.

“Did you release him?”

“He’s still locked up. I wanted to talk to you about testifying in the hearing on Lundi.”

“Your men saw it all. You don’t need me. I’m the one who got whipped. I didn’t even know who they were until your men showed up and I saw the one lying on the fence spike. Besides, I’m headed to Solis tomorrow.”

“I could require you to stay.”

“You do that, and I’ll have all the factors’ councils protesting to Lord Bhayar.”

Quaeryt shrugged. “The brother will have an advocate representing him, and without your presence…”

“That’s your problem, Governor, not mine. Now … if you’ll excuse me…” Hyleor turned away and walked toward the wagon.

After a moment Quaeryt turned and mounted, then rode back up the drive to rejoin the squad. As he rode back to the post, Quaeryt had to admit that he was amazed at Hyleor’s arrogance and effrontery, but he hadn’t really wanted to throw a factor—even one of dubious reputation—into one of the Civic Patrol gaol cells.
But why doesn’t he want to testify? Because he doesn’t want to get on the bad side of a High Holder and his bastard son?

Either way, Hyleor’s attitude was going to make life more difficult for Quaeryt.

It was half past four when Vaelora returned to the post, and Quaeryt was waiting in the courtyard as she dismounted. She wasn’t smiling, and he decided not to ask anything. He just smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“It’s not as if I’d been traveling to Solis and returned.” Her voice was edgy. “It feels that way. It took me half the day to arrange for linens—bed linens, towels, table linens, napkins … even blankets. Half a day! I could have done it in a glass or two in Solis.”

Quaeryt nodded, not wanting to point out the obvious—that they weren’t in Solis, but in a much smaller city recently devastated by an eruption and earth tremors. “I know. It’s much harder to get things accomplished here.”

“Everything is an endless chore!”

“It does feel that way.”

“Stop humoring me. You sound more condescending than Aunt Nerya at her worst.”

“I do understand. I’m paying more for timbers, and they take longer to mill. I can’t find an honest justicer … and I just got a dispatch from your brother.”

Vaelora looked ready to snap back at Quaeryt until she heard his last news. “What’s the matter?”

“Let’s go up to our quarters, and I’ll tell you. It’s not terrible, but it’s not as good as it could be.”

“Tell me now.”

“In the quarters.”

“Fine.”

Quaeryt didn’t bother to hide his wince at the coldness of her tone. Unless he could calm Vaelora down, it was likely to be a long evening. He had to walk quickly to keep up with her as she marched across the courtyard and up the outside stairs. The heel of the boot on his bad left leg caught on one of the steps, and he barely caught himself.

Vaelora didn’t even look in his direction.

Only when the quarters door was shut did she turn. “Well?”

“You don’t have to shout at me,” he said quietly.

“I hate it when you get that condescending tone in your voice. And then you refuse to tell me…”

“Did you ever think that I’d rather not say what he wrote in the courtyard with troopers all around?”

“You still didn’t have to be so condescending.”

“I shouldn’t have been.”

“No … you shouldn’t, not with everything I’ve gone through today. And Grelyana showed up at the villa. She was so falsely sweet, and it was as though you and I had tortured her for those few pieces of furniture, and she wasn’t using them. They would have dry-rotted away in the cellars of her palace. There was so much dust on them. That’s where they had to have come from because they were so filthy.…”

Quaeryt listened for close to a quint before saying a word, deciding against mentioning what Aextyl had said about Grelyana as Vaelora moved on to detailing other problems. Then, when she paused, he said, “Bhayar requires Third Regiment leave Extela no later than the sixteenth of Mayas, but they have to be ready to ride out on notice from him any day after the fifteenth of Avryl.”

“That’s only ten days away! The bridge isn’t finished. The residence won’t be ready. You can’t find trustworthy guards that soon…”

“The Bovarians are moving thousands of troops toward Ferravyl.” From Bhayar’s dispatch, Quaeryt didn’t know the precise number, but it had to be thousands, if not more, given that there were already thousands of Telaryn troops already there.

“Oh…”

By the time they headed down to dinner, Vaelora was at least talking in a level, if slightly cool, tone of voice, and she was charming to the officers in the mess.

Quaeryt still knew it would be a long night, and he hadn’t even mentioned his problems with Hyleor and justicing.

40

By late on Vendrei evening, Vaelora’s coolness had warmed, and on Samedi, Quaeryt arranged for Vhalsyr to be transferred from the post brig to a cell at the Civic Patrol gaol. Then he and Vaelora both accompanied the contingent of troopers to the market squares and watched the sale of flour and potatoes. What struck Quaeryt was the range of people who came to purchase the goods, from those who appeared barely able to scrape together the coppers necessary to those who wore good linens and fine wool garments. That suggested to him that the prices he’d set were the lowest available, and that he might need to raise them before long.

Later on Samedi, both Vaelora and Quaeryt spent time at the villa, and on Solayi, Quaeryt read through another third of Ekyrd’s treatise, concentrating on the procedures for handling a justicer’s hearing … and the recommended sentences for various offenses. After that he managed, somehow, to come up with another homily—this one on vanity, how the excesses of attire, either being too elaborate or putting on a pretense of not caring, were both forms of Naming.

Vaelora left the post on Lundi morning to meet with Shenna and a group of women who provided goods to the poor, so that she could work with them to provide some of the coppers from the offerings at the anomen to the most deserving women, before going to the villa and looking into possible furnishings. After she departed, Quaeryt met with Jhalyt and Heireg to complete the final transfer of twelve hundred golds to Factoria Grelyana, then rode over to the patrol station, accompanied by a squad he likely didn’t need, as well as the four troopers who’d been mostly involved in the incident between Versoryn and Hyleor. He doubted he needed that many troopers, since he’d continued to be most scrupulous in his use of and practice with his shields, but Skarpa felt the escort of a full squad was necessary.