Scholar: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (23 page)

“Rhecyrd. That was a most unfortunate time. He had great plans, but … there are always those who will turn to treachery when their personal ambitions and whims are thwarted.”

“From what Sarastyn has conveyed, that could imply that either Tyrena or Rhecyrd…?” Quaeryt raised his eyebrows.

“Sarastyn has always been a romantic at heart, but romance should not cloud one’s view of reality. Tyrena was too young to rule. She refused to see that, and then…” Chardyn shrugged.

“You think that she was the one who planned the assassination of Chayar’s envoy?”

“Who else? She was the one who drafted the invitation for the envoy to come to Tilbor, on the pretext that she might be available as young Lord Bhayar’s consort.”

Quaeryt nodded slowly. Chardyn had a plausible point, because Bhayar had been betrothed, but not married, to Aelina at the time, and there was no doubt that Chayar could well have set aside his son’s betrothal to unite Tilbor and Telaryn without a war. Except … there had been no such letter arriving in Solis. Of that, Quaeryt had been certain, because Bhayar had mentioned that the Khanar had rejected that possibility. Bhayar had never mentioned names to Quaeryt, only the terms “Khanar” and “his daughter.” So Chardyn’s words were likely an indirect probe. “Was she intelligent and attractive?”

“She doubtless still is, but the man who wed her had best be most cautious.”

“You had mentioned that she fled and married a Bovarian High Holder. They are known to keep their wives well in line.”

Chardyn laughed. “I would hope so, for his sake, and because she is the type who needs to be on a tight rein.”

Quaeryt smiled and continued to eat.

After breakfast, he left Chardyn and found the bursar of the Ecoliae, to whom he tendered enough coppers to pay for the next several days, including more for the feed for the mare, which no one had mentioned, while letting drop that he intended to remain at least through the coming Solayi. Then he took the steps to the lower level and to the tailor shop. Naxim was a tidy man. That Quaeryt could tell the moment he had walked into the small space. He was also not that busy, because, after measuring Quaeryt, he promised to have two sets of scholar browns ready by Meredi afternoon. The price was not inexpensive, but not unreasonable at seven silvers for the pair.

Then Quaeryt hurried up to the main level and to the student assembly hall on the west end of the building, where Nalakyn stood outside the double doors, waiting, along with Zarxes.

The scholar princeps smiled. “I’d thought to increase my knowledge of Solis as well, Scholar Quaeryt.”

“I trust I can add at least some small tidbits to your vast array of learning, sir.”

“I’m most certain that you can, though they may be small, indeed.”

Two more students hurried into the hall, nodding politely as they passed.

“I believe we can begin,” said Nalakyn, turning and entering the hall, where he stood beside the doors until the other two scholars entered, then closed the doors.

Zarxes moved to the side of the hall and turned, where he waited. Quaeryt took a position near the front, before thirty students standing in front of benches.

Nalakyn stepped up beside Quaeryt, brushing back his limp gray hair absently. “You may be seated.” When all the students were seated, he went on. “I have a special lecture today for you. Scholar Quaeryt is here from the Scholarium Solum in Solis, and he will be telling you about Solis and Lord Bhayar.” With a nod to Quaeryt, he stepped aside.

“Young scholars,” Quaeryt began, “you have often heard that a little knowledge is most dangerous, and I am about to impart what little knowledge I know about Solis and Lord Bhayar. I hope it is not too dangerous for being so scant. I agreed to do so with the understanding that I studied in Solis at the Scholarium Solum … and not anywhere close to the palace of Lord Bhayar … although I must say that it is a grand palace that sits on a hill high enough to overlook the harbor without being particularly close to the water or the piers. The Scholarium is much older, and it sits on a smaller hill much closer to the harbor, which has advantages … of sorts.

“A few of you, or more, may know that Solis is not the homeland of Lord Bhayar. He and his father, Lord Chayar, were born in Extela, in the mountains of hot mist and fire, and Lord Chayar is the one who spent his life concentrating on truly uniting Telaryn.…” From there, Quaeryt gave a brief summary of the various campaigns and battles waged by Chayar’s grandsire Bhaeyan to physically control Telaryn, followed by the political reforms of Chayar’s father, and then the efforts of Chayar—except those involving the conquest of Tilbor—as well as the shifting of the capital to Solis and the rebuilding of the harbor there, before going on to describe the government under Bhayar. “… he has but a handful of ministers, one being charged with the maintaining of rivers, roads, canals, and ports, another with the collection of tariffs, and a third with the operation of the messengers and couriers that serve Lord Bhayar, and a fourth in dealing with envoys and communications with other lands…” Quaeryt paused and nodded at Lankyt, whose face bore a puzzled expression. “Yes?”

“You did not mention what minister is in charge of armies and armsmen, sir.”

“No … I did not. Lord Bhayar himself controls those. His regional governors and his marshals report to him directly. That was the practice of Lord Chayar, and his son has continued it.”

“How does he make his will known?” Lankyt persisted.

“He has couriers. I mentioned those before. He also has special companies of armsmen, raised in the mountains, or so it is reported, who are very loyal, and who will remove any official who displeases him. Those who make mistakes are either exiled or sent to unpleasant duties in even more onerous locations. Some even have returned to grace. Those who steal from the Lord or the people are executed.” Quaeryt paused. “So it is said. I do not know if that is the case here in Tilbora.” He looked to Nalakyn.

“The governor is very strict,” admitted the preceptor. “I have not heard about theft going unpunished. He has executed his own soldiers for stealing from the people. Those he has caught, anyway.”

That would suggest that few are stealing much, but you’ll have to see,
thought Quaeryt.

“The Scholarium Solum is both similar to and different from the Ecoliae.…” Quaeryt went on to explain in great detail about the scholars in Solis, and then about the port city and capital itself.

He answered more than a score of questions before he finally turned to Nalakyn. “I could talk a great deal longer, but I suspect I’ve already gone on too long.”

“Oh … no. It is time to stop, but I’m certain that everyone learned a great deal.”

I just hope that Scholar Princeps Zarxes did not.

After leaving the young scholars, Quaeryt searched for Sarastyn, finally locating him almost a glass later on the shaded north porch.

“You have more questions … or are you here to enlighten me?” asked the older scholar sardonically.

“I have noticed that I’m not the one learning when I’m talking, sir.”

“Don’t use ‘sir’ with me. It makes me feel more decrepit than I already do.” Sarastyn gestured to the chair across from him.

“After thinking over what you told me yesterday, I did have a few more questions.”

“Well … what are they?”

“You mentioned how Nidar the Great had changed from the old clan way of fighting and created the Khanar’s Guard, but I was curious about how he could afford having a permanent guard.…”

“Oh … that was simple enough. He took a copper in tariffs from every gold in timber sales in the three ports—but only for timber leaving Tilbor. Most of that was in Midcote. He did the same thing with the seal and bear pelts taken by the ice hunters north of Noira … and he tariffed the white sugar from the south, but not the local molasses … not just those, but the same pattern on goods leaving or coming into Tilbor. Of course, there was a great deal more fur trading back then…”

Quaeryt listened until Sarastyn stopped and looked at him.

“The Khanar’s daughter … how exactly did she flee?”

“That was simple enough. She took a boat out to a Bovarian merchanter with her own guards, offered golds if they’d take her to Ephra, and steel if the captain chose to be disinclined.”

“And Rhecyrd didn’t try to stop her?”

“Why would he? Once she left, no one stood in his way.”

“Are there any ironworks in Tilbor now…”

“Just the small ones west of here and near Midcote.…”

After close to a glass, Quaeryt could tell that Sarastyn was tiring, and he took his leave, walking out to the stable where he saddled the mare and set out on another exploratory ride, this time into the trading and craft sector to the southeast of the Ecoliae. As he had suspected, there were no large manufactories, and only a few handfuls of those that might be considered even of moderate size. While he had heard that much of the timber used to the south of Tilbora came from Tilbor, he could find but one sawmill and two lumbering factorages, confirming in his own mind what Sarastyn had said about Midcote.

When he finally returned to the Ecoliae for supper, he wasn’t surprised to find Nalakyn waiting for him beside the dining hall door.

“I appreciated your talk this morning. Very much,” said the preceptor of students. “You explained things so very clearly. I cannot believe that you have no experience or personal knowledge of Lord Bhayar.”

“Lord Bhayar is such a forceful person that everyone in Solis knows well his wishes and aims,” replied Quaeryt with a laugh. “Those who serve him are equally direct and forceful.”

“Have you met any of them?”

“I have seen his seneschal, and even the sight of the man made it clear that it was best to avoid him. Fortunately, I had little cause to deal with him.”
Or little enough.

Quaeryt walked through the doors and into the hall. Nalakyn accompanied him. They sat at one end of one of the long tables, and shortly the smallish bursar—Yullyd—joined them.

While the Ecoliae did provide ale or lager with the evening meal, Quaeryt had found the lager bitter and the ale unpalatable, and so had accepted the lager as the lesser evil, although, as he looked at the apple-baked dark fish on the platters set in the middle of the table, he had the feeling that the lager might be the best part of the meal—that and the greasy fried potatoes.

“Master Scholar Phaeryn must be most accomplished to have been able to keep the Ecoliae functioning during the time of the invasion, with all the fighting…” offered Quaeryt. “Were you here during that time?”

“Not for the time of the invasion. The Ecoliae was closed then. Master Scholar Phaeryn felt it would not be safe for students or for scholars. We all retreated to his family’s timberland in the Boran Hills until the fighting ended.”

“He must come from a family of means, then.”

“He was the youngest. That was why he became a scholar.”

“He said he’d rather be a scholar than a chorister,” added Yullyd. “He did serve a year in the Khanar’s Guard, too.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Nalakyn.

“Most folks don’t.”

“Didn’t Scholar Chardyn serve as well for a time?”

“He did,” said Yullyd. “He left when Lady Tyrena took over command. Not in name, of course, but in fact. That was when Eleonyd got so ill.”

Quaeryt could see there were more than a few conflicting stories of that time, but said nothing.

“Master Scholar Phaeryn has done marvels here,” said Nalakyn quickly. “The Ecoliae was almost falling down after the war…”

Quaeryt listened intently as the preceptor catalogued all of the Master Scholar’s virtues and accomplishments. He didn’t even have to prod Nalakyn, and that bothered him in more ways than one.

29

After Quaeryt left the dining hall after breakfast on a gloomy and overcast Mardi morning, he was grudgingly grateful for the quantity of flatcakes, which were at least palatable, despite the thinness of the berry syrup. The mutton strips had been almost inedible. He was just three steps into the main corridor when someone called to him.

“Scholar Quaeryt, sir.”

He turned to see a student standing against the wall of a side corridor, a position not visible from inside the dining hall. “Yes, Lankyt?”

“I … just wanted to thank you … for the letter … and for the talk, too, but mostly for the letter. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after I read it. I appreciate your bringing it all this way.”

“I could scarcely have done less after your father’s kindness.” Quaeryt moved toward the young man, stopping slightly less than a yard away.

“There’s another thing, sir.…”

Quaeryt nodded and waited.

“Preceptor Nalakyn … he’s a good man.”

“I got that impression,” replied Quaeryt.

“Scholar Chardyn … he doesn’t care much for anyone who might be in the favor of Lord Bhayar … or the governor. I know you said you didn’t know much about him, but Da—my father, I mean … I think he had a different impression … and I wouldn’t want…”

“I understand, and I thank you. You don’t have to say more. Your father is a good man, and I doubt if you could do better than to follow his principles.” Quaeryt smiled warmly, trying to disarm the youth. “You could help me with one other matter, if you would.”

“Sir?” Lankyt’s voice lowered, holding worry.

“Is there a taverna around here with good food?”

The youth grinned, as much in relief as anything, Quaeryt suspected.

“There are only two close. Well, three if you count Sullah’s, but no one with any sense goes there. Jardyna has better food, and a singer. The spirits are dear, though. Rufalo’s costs less, but the grub is awful. They’re both along the road to the west, less than half a mille, almost across from each other. Jardyna is the one with the picture of the garden.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I listen a lot, sir. People talk.”

Quaeryt laughed. “Keep listening … and thank you. I’m not so sure I can take another supper here.”

“Some nights I feel like that, sir. I’d better go.”

No sooner were the words spoken than Lankyt turned and hurried down the side corridor, leaving Quaeryt alone in the main corridor, if only for a moment.