Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (45 page)

The commander looked up from what appeared to be a sheaf of papers containing rosters. “Haven’t seen you around much lately, sir.”

“I’ve been around … more places than I’d like at times and then spending more time than I’d ever thought likely on various things I never thought I’d have to deal with—from buying a governor’s residence to acting as a justicer … and a supply quartermaster for the poor.”

“That seafaring background still shows through.”

“Oh…”

“For cavalry and foot, a quartermaster is supply. A supply quartermaster is redundant.”

“Whereas for those of us who’ve trod the pearly deep, or some such, a quartermaster is a navigator. Old habits die hard.” Quaeryt smiled, then asked, “How are the night patrols going?”

“We haven’t had any more trouble, but the squad leaders are reporting that they’re being watched, especially in the areas where the Civic Patrol isn’t going yet.”

“That will mean trouble for Pharyl once you leave for Ferravyl.”

“Have you heard anything new?” asked Skarpa.

“Not yet.” That was more a courtesy, reflected Quaeryt, because Skarpa would have known the moment a dispatch rider came through the post gates. So should the post commander.

Quaeryt frowned. “Have you seen Commander Zhrensyl lately?” Since he and Vaelora had left the officers’ quarters for the villa and were no longer eating at the officers’ mess, he couldn’t recall seeing the older commander at all.

“He’s around, but he avoids me.”

“He’s the one who offered his study to you, isn’t he?”

Skarpa nodded. “He’s only got five months before he can take a stipend. He doesn’t want any sort of trouble … and you asked him a lot of hard questions.”

“So far as I could tell, he did almost nothing.”

“True … but in his defense, he had next to nothing to do it with. He doesn’t even have a full company left here. Half his men were killed because they were stationed at the old palace or around the governor’s square.”

Maybe you were too hard on him.
“I didn’t say anything.”

“Governor … you don’t have to say much. The men follow you because they can tell you’ll put yourself out on the line. They can also tell that you’re not one to tolerate shiftlessness. Maybe it’s because you’re a scholar, but it’s like it’s written all over you.”

Quaeryt shook his head. “Not always.”

“No … you can be as inscrutable as a blank slate. You always were with Marshal Rescalyn. Sometimes you’re like Artiema and sometimes like Erion. I think that bothered Rescalyn a lot.”

After discussing how to organize the regiment’s departure, either in mid-Mayas or when the order came, Quaeryt left Skarpa, still pondering about the commander’s comparison of him to one moon and then the other—the open pearly warmth of Artiema and the reddish imperviousness of Erion, the great hunter.

He’d have to ask Vaelora about that.

Pushing that thought aside, he went to see how Jhalyt and Baharyt were coming with the restructuring of the tariff collections and the reassignments of the tariff collectors. Then he needed to check with Major Heireg on supply questions. What with one thing and another, the day slipped way, until it was close to third glass.

Quaeryt saddled the mare himself, then rode out to Aextyl’s dwelling, arriving some two quints before fourth glass, dismounting so quickly that he almost tripped over his bad leg before going out of his way to pet the sad-faced hound, who rewarded him with a few wags of the tail. Then he made his way to the small entry porch, where the justicer’s daughter opened the door with a smile.

“Good day, Lady,” he responded.

“It is, indeed.” She gestured.

Quaeryt hurried back to the study.

Aextyl waved Quaeryt to the chair. “You write well, Governor. Too well for a justicer or an advocate. Every word is chosen with little ambiguity, except, unhappily, over the years justicers and advocates have determined that all too many of the words that have no ambiguity or ambivalence in everyday usage do indeed have such when employed in legal documentation. So I have turned your apparently clear recommendation—one that justicers would find less than convincingly so—into one that seems far less lucid, but which should convey a single meaning to the high justicer.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but smile. “Is there any time period I need to wait before holding the hearing?”

“No. You must provide two days’ notice at a minimum, and a week is customary.”

“I think we’ll stick with two days and set it for next Mardi.” Quaeryt frowned. “Do you know where Caesyt has a place of study or advocacy?”

“He used to have a small study on the east side of the south market square. I don’t know that he still does.”

“We’ll have to see. Can I persuade you to join me and advise me on Mardi?”

“I don’t see why not. I’d like to see Caesyt’s face when he catches sight of me.” Aextyl’s smile was close to impish.

“There’s one other matter. Is there anyone here in Extela that you could recommend for me to appoint as a justicer? I shouldn’t be doing this, and I can’t for long, not under the guidance put out by Lord Bhayar.”

“That’s true.” Aextyl’s brow furrowed, and he was silent for a time. “There’s an advocate in Mynawal, a young fellow … well not so young as you. His name is Bieryn … Bieryn Blaksyn. You might talk to him. If I can think of any others … I’ll let you know on Mardi.”

“Thank you.” With a nod, Quaeryt gathered up the papers Aextyl had waiting for him and made his way outside to the waiting mare and escort troopers.

He rode back to the post at a quick trot, because he wanted to catch the chief clerk before he left for the day. He almost didn’t make it, because Jhalyt was leaving the small chamber that had likely once been a storeroom when Quaeryt hurried up.

“Sir? Is there a problem?”

Quaeryt extended the documents. “You don’t have to stay tonight, but I’ll need copies of these three documents as soon as you can manage. By tomorrow afternoon if possible. They have to be word-for-word copies, each line identical to the line in the original.”

“Justicing documents?”

Quaeryt nodded.

“Baharyt’s better at that, sir. Is there any reason he couldn’t do it?”

“None at all, but I want you to proofread them after he’s done, to make sure the copies are exact.”

“I can do that.”

“Also, I’ll need several copies of a hearing notice, but I’ll have to give that to you in the morning, since I haven’t drafted it yet.”

“Yes, sir.” Jhalyt took the documents and carried them back into the chamber, then returned and locked the door with an overlarge and tarnished brass key. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night.”

Quaeryt was getting ready to leave for the villa when Pharyl hurried in.

“Sir … I’m glad I caught you. Would have preferred not to ride out to the villa tonight.”

“That sounds like a problem … What sort?”

“Some toughs smashed the shutters on a cooper’s place, then broke inside. He took a mallet and crushed one’s skull. The other slashed his arm with a knife—blade more like a short sword.”

“The kind that’s too long to carry under the laws of Telaryn?”

Pharyl nodded. “Dead man had one, too. Cooper says that the third fellow had one also. He got away.”

“Are you holding the cooper?”

“No, sir. I told him he’d have to appear when there’s a hearing.”

“Any others that will require a hearing?”

“One other. So far. Things are getting back toward the way they were, according to the patroller firsts.”

“That’s a mixed blessing.”

“More like the Namer’s blessing,” snorted Pharyl. “The other is a killing. Girl knifed a man. Likely her pimp. At least, he was wearing one of those pimp’s jackets, and she isn’t saying anything.”

Quaeryt winced. That was an offense he didn’t want to hear, not in the slightest. “Will anyone else testify?”

“Not likely. No one else was around when the patrollers got there, and the people in the rooms around said they never heard anything. They’re lying, but there’s no way to prove it.”

“We can certainly hear those on Mardi … but I have to handle a complicated civic hearing that day as well. It has to do with a complaint against a High Holder over water rights, and I have to refer that to the High Justicer of Telaryn. If you don’t mind, I’d like to put that first. You’ll need to post notices for it, but those won’t be ready until tomorrow.”

“A complaint against a High Holder.” Pharyl shook his head. “Don’t envy you, sir.”

“The advocate is our friend Caesyt.”

“He’s the kind of friend no patrol chief needs.”

“And the kind governors don’t need, either.”

“Better you than me, sir.”

“That’s one of the things governors are appointed for.”
Or should be.

After Pharyl left, Quaeryt walked out to the stable to saddle the mare. He had more than a few matters to consider on the ride back to the villa. He also couldn’t help but recall Skarpa’s comment about governing, that it wasn’t something he could win like a battle.

That’s becoming more and more obvious.

46

Once he reached the post on Vendrei, Quaeryt found himself immersed in a welter of details, some of which he’d anticipated, and some of which he hadn’t, from not only making sure Baharyt finished the copies of the documents for the hearing on Mardi, but also that the hearing notices were copied and posted and that a trooper delivered a copy personally to Caesyt. That turned out to take several glasses because the advocate was no longer at the location recalled by Aextyl, but in what had been a narrow shop on the main avenue some three blocks south of where Caesyt had been situated formerly. Dhaeryn did report that the repairs on the east bridge had been completed, but that the south half of the bridge would remain blocked off for several days longer because some of the concrete and stone and brickwork required more time to cure.

Dhaeryn had barely left the study when the duty messenger appeared. “A Factor Lysienk here to see you, sir.”

Lysienk? Quaeryt knew he had heard the name, but didn’t recall it from the tariff lists he’d perused earlier. After a moment he remembered that Aextyl had called Lysienk a factor of dubious integrity and Pharyl had also expressed concerns as well.
You should have recalled his name immediately.
Why hadn’t he?
Because your attention is split in too many directions?
“Did he say why he wished to see me?”

“No, sir.”

“Have him come in.” Quaeryt stood.

Lysienk was slender and blond, yet moved with a slinky grace that reminded Quaeryt of port rats, even though the factor displayed none of the furtiveness of such a rodent. He inclined his head politely. “Governor Quaeryt. It is most gracious of you to see me without an appointment, yet one wonders how one might make such an appointment. Indeed, discovering your whereabouts took a number of inquiries.”

Quaeryt gestured to the chairs before the desk and seated himself. “You did not state your business to the duty troopers.”

“Indeed, I did not…” Lysienk offered a smile that was likely meant to be apologetic, but held a hint of the furtive, again reminding Quaeryt of a rat. “I am here to discuss the continuation of my supplies of the best produce and meats to the governor’s household. I would not trouble you personally with such a trivial matter, but alas, I have been unable to determine who your steward might be or how to reach him. If you would be so kind as to—”

“I am most certain that you do supply fine meats and produce, Factor Lysienk…” Quaeryt let the silence at the end of his words draw out for several moments before continuing. “But my wife, currently in the personage of her private secretary, will be handling such purchases for the governor’s residence.”

Lysienk presented an even more ratlike smile. “Then perhaps you could convey to that distinguished person that I have supplied the last two governors with the best of produce and meat … and my supplies are not only the best, but unlike those of others, there are never any difficulties with their quality … and especially not with their delivery. You, being the direct representative of Lord Bhayar here in Extela, understand above all others the importance of such reliability.”

Quaeryt understood precisely what Lysienk was promising, especially after what he had learned from Aextyl and Pharyl. He was also irritated, for more than a few reasons, but he managed to smile politely. “You are most persuasive, Factor Lysienk, and most convincing. As you may know, however, the new governor’s residence is not yet ready for such provisions as you supply, and it will likely be several weeks before it is. The villa is not yet even properly furnished. Perhaps … if you sent a note to the villa requesting an appointment with secretary Shenna for some time next week…? I would suggest meeting after Mardi.”

“Ah … I do understand, Governor.” Lysienk bowed, gracefully. “You are most kind, and I look forward to making arrangements with your wife’s private secretary.”

After the sleazy produce factor departed, Quaeryt just stared at the closed door for a moment. Did everything in Extela work that way? He’d purchased some time, but he’d still have to deal with Lysienk … in a way that would preclude siphoning off extra golds as assurance that provisions and teamsters would not suffer unfortunate “accidents.”

Once again, he had less than a quint before the duty ranker was announcing “Factor Andryt.”

As the door opened, Quaeryt tried to recall where he’d seen or heard the name … then realized that Andryt was one of those who had signed the petition requesting that Quaeryt stop holding the price of flour down.

Andryt was short, stout, and bald. “Governor … I am here to throw myself at your knees…”

Please don’t.

“… I will grovel if I must, beg … whatever … but I implore you to do something before we are all destroyed, devastated, and desolated…”

Desolated? By the low prices of flour … that will go up before long?
But the rotund factor was still talking, and seemingly doing so at an ever increasing speed.