Rex Regis (54 page)

“He is kind to them.”

Quaeryt shook his head. “Wise. They are both strong and intelligent … as I suspect you are.”

“What is this information you wish to convey?” asked Daefol.

“First, it appears that Submarshal Myskyl was suborned by the surviving members of the three, as was Lady Myranda. In the confrontation I had with the submarshal and the three, all four of them perished when the efforts of the imagers did not work as they intended. In the fire that ensued, Lady Myranda fled. It is likely that her life and holding will be forfeit once Lord Bhayar hears of her role. Second, you will be pleased, I trust, to learn that five of the six regiments currently at Fiancryt will be departing this Mardi, assuming the weather holds. Subcommander Moravan, greatly trusted by Lord Bhayar, and his regiment will remain to assure that matters remain calm.”

Daefol nodded slowly.

Elajara studied Quaeryt. “You don’t powder your hair or paint your nails, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re Pharsi, are you not?”

“I am, but I did not know it until about two years ago. I was orphaned as a young child and raised by the scholars of Solis.”

“He knew much of what we said when he was first here,” added Daefol.

Elajara nodded. “Are you a lost one?”

“Many have declared that I am. I cannot say that. I don’t know. How did you know about the legends of the lost ones?”

“When Daefol described you, I went to the library. There was nothing there. Then I began to ask my maids and others. One of the cook’s helpers knew an old Pharsi woman, and she said that the lost ones had white-blond hair and dark eyes, and they often limped. The greatest sometimes had their hair and nails turn white. When we heard that Kharst had been bested at Variana, the word was that most of the destruction had been wrought by a Pharsi imager who was a commander. You were that imager, were you not?”

“I was the imager in charge of all those who created the destruction,” Quaeryt admitted.

“And you defeated the three by yourself. That makes you most powerful.”

“No. I did not defeat them by myself. Facing them alone would have been idiocy. I brought several other imagers with me.”

“There were no old and powerful imagers among your men. Or were they hidden?”

“No. Those who helped me were young.”

“Did you not train them?”

“Yes.”
All but one.
“You are rather perceptive, Lady.”

“No. I am trying to be logical.”

“Your logic is largely accurate. You must be of great assistance to your husband.” Quaeryt could see exactly where the conversation was going and what Elajara wanted, and he was happy to do what he could, because she was far more likely to be reasonable and practical and Daefol would be far more rational for listening to his wife. “Or you could be.” Quaeryt turned to Daefol. “If you let her be.”

“She is not interested-”

“She is not interested in angering you. She is very interested in your making the right decisions because those decisions affect her and your children. I would strongly suggest that you give her views and opinions careful consideration. Lord Bhayar has always considered the views of his wife, and of his sisters. It’s a good example to follow, especially since he is now lord and Rex of Bovaria.”

“He does not seem terribly interested in maintaining the traditions of Bovaria,” murmured Daefol.

“Oh … he’s happy to allow those that work. But ignoring the intelligence of half the people isn’t exactly wise, and it apparently didn’t work too well for Rex Kharst. It didn’t work very well for Tilbor, either, when the northern High Holders there decided they wanted an inept male ruler rather than a competent woman.”

“How often do you listen to your wife?” asked Daefol slyly.

“Enough that her advice has saved my life at least three times.” Quaeryt smiled. “That kind of example tends to make one a believer.” He rose, then inclined his head to Elajara. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lady, and wish you well.” Then he turned to Daefol. “I’ve said what I needed to say, and I trust you’ll find the information useful.” He paused for a moment, and when the High Holder did not speak, he said, “Shall we go?”

Daefol nodded and led the way from the chamber.

Quaeryt did not shake his head, although he felt like doing so.

Early on Mardi morning Quaeryt met with Subcommander Moravan, reviewing his responsibilities, then met with all the other regimental commanders to review the order of departure. While Quaeryt let Justanan do most of the talking, he and the senior commander had already worked out that order, largely by seniority, with the exceptions that the regiment formerly commanded by Luchan would follow Justanan’s regiment and that first company would serve as vanguard and Calkoran would provide the rear guard. Quaeryt didn’t want any dispatches that he and Justanan did not know about leaving Northern Army. In addition, because there were now two bridges over the Aluse, the army was split into two groups, with the first two regiments and first company to use the new bridge and the other three regiments to use the old one in Rivages.

By seventh glass Northern Army had largely departed Fiancryt, and Quaeryt rode at the head of first company, with Zhelan beside him and the three imagers directly behind him heading south along the west river road.

“Have you heard anything of interest in the last few days?” asked Quaeryt.

“Most of the junior officers are happy we’re heading back to Variana. So are the men. Rivages is … well…”

“Somewhat limited in terms of entertainment?” suggested Quaeryt.

“More limited than that, sir. The submarshal didn’t allow the men or the officers to leave Fiancryt except on patrols or maneuvers.”

“For more than four months?”

“Yes, sir.”

That was something Quaeryt hadn’t known, but then he hadn’t asked, because that sort of restriction hadn’t occurred to him. Skarpa had never enforced anything that stringent. Nor had he, except in Khel. “Anything else?”

“The hold house was off-limits to everyone but Myskyl’s assistants and the senior officers. No one but Myskyl had a study in the hold house.”

“Has anyone said anything about the imagers and the fire?”

“They wouldn’t say anything to me,” replied Zhelan. “I had Ghaelyn ask some of the men to keep their ears open. The only thing that’s clear to pretty much everyone is that it’s dangerous to do anything against you … and that captain has told a number of the junior officers that Erion came to your aid. He even took some of them into the ruins and showed them that section of the iron shutter with the archway melted into it.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help smiling slightly. “You looked, too, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I wanted to see for myself.” Zhelan paused. “Was Erion really there?”

Quaeryt managed a shrug. “I don’t know. Something or someone that looked like Erion was there and threw thunderbolts at the three imagers and flung that silvery dagger at Myskyl.”

“Eslym still has it. He says it is the dagger of Erion. It’s lighter than iron, but feels stronger.”

“Has Calkoran said anything to you?”

“Not very much. He did say that if you weren’t the lost one and the son of Erion, there was no difference between you and him … and that was good enough for him. I think most of the Khellans would follow you anywhere. Even into the gates of death.”

“Let’s hope we’re done with that.” Quaeryt offered a rueful laugh, then looked at the houses ahead that marked the northern edge of the western part of Rivages.

Ahead, a woman hanging laundry on a line at the side of a small cot scurried toward the back door and disappeared. Quaeryt couldn’t fault her caution, but hoped that would change over the coming years.

Before long first company was riding into the western part of the city and toward the square and the old timber bridge. The center of the square cleared quickly as the column approached, but the peddlers and crafters and those in the square to shop all watched as the troopers rode past. Quaeryt saw neither resentment nor joy, just a mixture of curiosity and almost indifference as the riders passed.

Once first company had passed through Rivages, Quaeryt rode back to the head of Justanan’s regiment, easing in beside the senior commander.

“How do your officers and men feel about leaving Fiancryt and Rivages?”

“Most are happy to go. They didn’t see much of Rivages and too much of Fiancryt.”

“I understand that access to the hold house was limited,” offered Quaeryt.

“With almost ten thousand men in the area, it had to be,” replied Justanan.

“I can see that.” Quaeryt paused. “Did you ever meet Lady Myranda?”

“I wouldn’t have called any of the times I encountered her a meeting,” said Justanan dryly. “There was one reception at which she appeared and spoke a few words briefly to each of the regimental commanders. She was warm and apparently charming without saying much of anything, and before any of us knew it she had vanished. Beautiful woman, but the kind you always wonder about how deep that apparent warmth might be.”

Quaeryt nodded. “I’ve met some like that. Was there anything strange that happened around her?”

“Besides having five or six regiments around all the time?”

“She was Fiancryt’s second wife, and the first died rather suddenly, from what I heard.”

“Oh … that business about Fiancryt’s son drowning? He was a headstrong boy, and he rode off from his mother and the submarshal and apparently tried to jump a creek. The horse threw him, and he hit his head on a rock or something and drowned in the creek before they found him. That’s all we were ever told. The hold house was draped in black for a month…”

“Was that before or after you knew that the three imagers were here?”

“We didn’t know that they were imagers. Not then. I suspected there was something not right about them. I told you that. The submarshal said that their knowledge would be most useful to Lord Bhayar in time.”

“That’s hard to argue against,” said Quaeryt.
And it suggests that one of the imagers had something to do with the boy’s death.
Again, it was another thing that would be hard to prove.
Just like so many over the past two years.
“Especially to a submarshal who’s the favorite of the marshal. Was that obvious to all the regimental commanders?”

“Nieron knew and flattered both Luchan and Myskyl. I doubt that’s any surprise to you,” said Justanan dryly.

“No. What about Tibaron and Ostlyn?”

“They never gave much indication one way or the other, as befit intelligent junior subcommanders.”

“And Moravan?”

“He never said anything, but once in a while when he didn’t think anyone was watching, he rolled his eyes. At first. I cautioned him against that, because Myskyl had very good senses.”

“He did, indeed,” said Quaeryt.

“You were never included in the meetings after Ferravyl,” offered Justanan.

“Not after they were changed from meetings of senior officers to meetings of the regimental commanders,” replied Quaeryt.

“I wondered about that.”

“Until after Variana, the only senior officers who weren’t regimental commanders were Subcommander Ernyld and me. After Variana, when I became a commander with regiments under me, I was detached and reported to either Submarshal Skarpa or Lord Bhayar.”

“But Ernyld was there.”

“To record the proceedings, doubtless,” replied Quaeryt.

“Is Skarpa still in Liantiago?”

At that moment Quaeryt realized that he’d never mentioned Skarpa’s assassination. “No. I should have mentioned this. He was assassinated by the heir of a rebel High Holder. The High Holder was killed fighting for Aliaro. The assassination happened after Commander Kharllon insisted that the imagers I left to protect Skarpa not be allowed close to the senior officers’ meetings in Liantiago.”

“Kharllon?”

Quaeryt nodded.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Do you know what happened after that?”

“When I left Variana, the latest dispatches we had indicated that Commander Kharllon was acting governor of Liantiago, except for Westisle, which was being held for Lord Bhayar by the imagers and my Nineteenth Regiment, until they received orders to the contrary, since my command reported directly to Bhayar.”

“What did Lord Bhayar do, or did he tell you?”

“He said he would promote acting imager Captain Voltyr to major and confirm the separate jurisdictions for a time until he had time to reconsider.”

“That was what you recommended, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Kharllon will be loyal to Bhayar, but he doesn’t know how to handle or use imagers. His own report of Skarpa’s assassination confirmed that.”

“Do you intend to become marshal of the armies?”

“That’s the last thing I want, and the last thing the armies and Bhayar need. I’m working to create a collegium of imagers, where imagers and their families from all over Lydar can live and where their children can be educated and those that are imagers properly trained to serve Lord Bhayar. Lord Bhayar agrees with the idea and the plans he’s seen so far.”

“You could be marshal and still do that.”

“No. It wouldn’t work. The High Holders, the factors, the senior officers, even the people would rebel against an imager in control of the armies. Especially since Bhayar is part Pharsi.”

“You’ve thought this out.”

“I’ve had to. When you’re married to Bhayar’s sister…”

“That makes sense. You give the imagers safety, and they support the ruler, and that keeps High Holders and ambitious marshals in line.”

“And the Collegium removes the imagers from seeming to threaten people, so that Bhayar can point out that the Collegium protects both the imagers and the people. He’s agreed that the Collegium will be on that isle in the Aluse, the one that had all the piers.”