Scholar: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (28 page)

Gardens?
Given the grimness of the stone walls, he hadn’t expected gardens.

A single stone-paved lane, edged by a knee-high wall, led through the middle of the gardens, and the escort guard rode toward it. Again, Quaeryt followed. The terraced gardens were far more than ornamental, he soon realized, with apple, plum, pear, and sour cherry trees bordering herb and vegetable gardens, and an intricate series of stone conduits and miniature aqueducts between the gardens and trees.

The lane ended abruptly in a circular paved area, with that part of the arc beside the palace building itself bordered by a covered rotunda. Another pair of guards stood under the angled roof and before a set of polished oak doors bound in polished brass.

“The scholar’s here to see the princeps.”

“You can tie your mount at the end, the iron post,” said one of the guards.

“Thank you.” Quaeryt rode over to the post, where he dismounted and tethered the mare to the post, then walked back toward the doors. He had to assume that his mount and gear would be safe, but, if they weren’t, those would be the least of his worries.

The lower gate guard was already riding back eastward toward the upper palace gates when Quaeryt reached the two guards.

“Tell the squad leader inside why you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt stepped between the two and opened the door, only to find a second door two yards on, another sign that the winters were indeed long and cold.

When he stepped beyond the second door, he stood in a foyer, a circular space some fifteen yards across, but without the high ceiling he half-expected. The walls were half-paneled with wainscoting up to chest height, above which was white plaster. There were neither paintings nor hangings above the paneling, although vacant niches set into the walls above the paneling and spaced around the foyer once had likely held statues or other decorative items.

Set in the middle of the foyer was a table desk, and seated at the desk was another soldier, this one wearing undress greens, the uniform most officers and aides wore when they met with Bhayar. Quaeryt walked to the desk and stopped.

“Why are you here, scholar?”

“Lord Bhayar sent me. I’m Quaeryt Rytersyn. I was sent to be scholar assistant to Princeps Straesyr.”

The squad leader pointed to a bench on the left side of the foyer, but closer to the door than the table desk. “You’ll need to wait there while I check with his assistant.”

Quaeryt sat, then watched as the squad leader walked past the two guards stationed at the archway leading from the foyer. He was still waiting a quint later, but shortly after that, the functionary finally returned.

”He’ll see you shortly. One of his aides will come and take you to his study.” The squad leader resumed his position behind the desk.

Another half quint passed before yet another squad leader—this one graying—appeared and said, “Scholar … this way.”

Quaeryt stood and followed the squad leader past the soldiers guarding the main hallway leading from the foyer. He was beginning to feel as though he had been passing through an endless series of guards. A somewhat worn deep blue carpet runner ran down the center of the polished slate floor, and a series of paintings adorned the walls—in between the doors, all of which were closed. Most of the paintings appeared to be likenesses of past Khanars.

After some thirty yards the corridor opened onto a high ceilinged hall, with a grand marble staircase leading up to the second level and what appeared to be a railed gallery above circling the hall. As he followed the aide up the steps, Quaeryt noted that other corridors branched off the hallway on the lower level … and again on the upper level. Quaeryt noted a smaller staircase on the east side of the gallery, whose entry door was open, and he wondered where that led. At the top of the staircase, the squad leader turned right, moving parallel to the stone-pillared railing.

About a third of the way around the circular gallery was another corridor that the squad leader followed. At the end, another forty yards along past other doors, was a set of double doors, one of which was open. Another narrower hallway fronted the doors and extended east and west for about twenty yards in each direction.

Once he was inside the anteroom, Quaeryt again sat and waited for perhaps half a quint before being ushered into the princeps’s study—a large room with bookcases on the left-side wall, and an archway on the left, with recessed pocket doors half-open, leading to a room with a long table and chairs. A large and ornately carved desk was set before the waist-high north-facing windows, windows that were closed. The princeps stood behind the desk. Unlike everyone else Quaeryt had seen since he’d ridden up to the lower gates, Straesyr was not wearing a uniform, but a light blue tunic over black trousers. Yet the way he wore them suggested a uniform.

“Good morning. Please be seated.” The princeps followed his own words.

Quaeryt sat down in the center chair facing the desk. Straesyr wasn’t at all what he had anticipated. He’d pictured the princeps as a slender and bookish figure, but the man who had greeted him was as tall as Quaeryt himself, broad-shouldered, and his voice was warm and pleasant. Only the eyes resembled Quaeryt’s preconception, and they looked like pale blue ice, as though Straesyr regarded everything as something to be weighed, measured, or counted.

“You claim to be someone I’m expecting. Can you prove it?”

“I’m most certain that Lord Bhayar has sent you a thorough description of me. I’m Quaeryt Rytersyn, and I have been a scholar to him.” Quaeryt eased the document case from his jacket pocket, leaned forward, and extended it.

The princeps took it. “It looks rather worn.”

“It’s been through a storm and a shipwreck, sir.”

“What ship?”

“The
Moon’s Son
, out of Tilbora here. She was the first vessel I could get out of Nacliano.”

“There weren’t any Telaryn ships you could take?”

“Except for the ship that sailed just before I got to Nacliano, not a one that anyone knew of. The port people said that most of the ships that traveled regularly from Nacliano to Tilbora were ported out of Tilbora.”

“That’s regrettable, if so. It’s something I wouldn’t know.” Straesyr opened the case and extracted the appointment letter, then opened the leather folder on the desk and compared the two. Next, he looked at a second sheet and then at Quaeryt, alternating glances between paper and Quaeryt. Finally, he nodded. “You do seem to be the one Lord Bhayar sent, with an appointment to last until the end of Fevier, if necessary…”

He didn’t put that date in my letter. The end of Fevier … I do hope not.
Quaeryt had no intention of staying in Tilbor even into winter, let alone all the way to the end of that frigid season.

“… I must say that both the governor and I are at a loss why he would send a scholar from Solis to Tilbora. I hope you can enlighten me.”

Quaeryt smiled pleasantly. “Lord Bhayar asked me if the people of Tilbor were different because no ruler in the history of Lydar has had so much difficulty in maintaining order so long after a conquest. I made the mistake of saying that I could not offer an opinion because I had not been to Tilbor and because there were no recent histories of Tilbor.” Quaeryt offered a helpless shrug. “And so … here I am.”

After a moment, Straesyr smiled, then shook his head. “You could have said that they were.”

“Then he would have asked in what fashion were their differences … and every effort on my part would have made my situation worse.”

“What exactly are you supposed to do here?” Straesyr returned the battered document case and the appointment letter to the scholar.

“Answer his question, based on what I observe and upon your experiences and those of the governor.”

“Why is this important to him, do you think?”

“I don’t know. It is possible he just disliked my asking too many questions and wanted to get rid of me or teach me a lesson of some sort. It is possible he is considering an attack on Antiago, or worried about an attack by Bovaria, and wants to see if I can discover some useful information that will make dealing with such easier. It is possible that he has something else in mind.”

Straesyr nodded slowly. “It is not particularly useful to second-guess a ruler. Nor is it useful to obstruct others in their duties. Neither the governor nor I would wish to make matters difficult for you to accomplish your report to Lord Bhayar. Likewise, you understand that in seeking the information to answer his inquiry, you should avoid any actions that make our efforts more difficult.”

“I understand. That is why, as possible, I would begin by gathering your thoughts and observations on what is different and unique about Tilbor, and then the governor’s. After that, I would like to talk with some of the junior officers who must deal with people on a daily basis. Only then would I venture into talking with the people in Tilbor, and that I would do as a visiting scholar.”

“That latter task might be both useful and difficult. The scholars here … let me just say that they do not seem to be excessively friendly. Anything you might discover that sheds light on that, in one way or another, might make your tasks easier.”

Quaeryt was the one to nod. “This is distressing to me. Knowledge that is not used properly is wasted, and there is no one better placed to use knowledge for good than a ruler. As I can, once I have a better understanding of the situation here, I would be more than happy to look into that matter, along with the other aspects of the question, of course.”

“Of course. Now … there is the matter of quarters. While there is certainly space in the barracks, there are a number of chambers here in the palace proper that would seem more conducive to your efforts, and several also have writing desks. Would those not be preferable?”

“One such would indeed, sir, but I would not wish to be a burden.”

“That is not a problem. Not at all. With you in the palace, of course, you will be a member of the junior officers’ mess. There is a charge—or deduction from your pay—of a copper a meal, or a silver and a half a week. As with all junior officers away from their postings, there is no charge for quarters. I would have you meet with Governor Rescalyn today, but he has been on an inspection tour to the north. He is not expected to return until Lundi or Mardi. Perhaps tomorrow you and I could meet, and I could brief you on those events and matters that bear upon your task.” Straesyr frowned, then smiled. “Seventh glass in the morning would be best.”

“Here, sir?”

“Precisely. Now … when we finish here, I’ll have my messenger conduct you to your quarters. I took the liberty of having your gear sent up already, and the ostler has stabled your mount. Except for today, you are responsible for grooming. In view of your position as one of my assistants, you will have access anywhere in the palace. Once you are briefed by me and have met the governor, you’re free to ride where you find it necessary. As with all officers, you are expected to log out and give either a destination or mission and an expected time of return. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”
In short, you’re confined to the palace until Mardi, and he wants to know where you’re going or have been.

“Ah … Scholar Quaeryt,” murmured Straesyr, “there is one other small matter.”

“Sir?”

The princeps lifted the cover of the folder and took out a sealed missive. “This was sent to you by courier from Solis.”

Quaeryt didn’t have to counterfeit surprise.
Who would send something to me? Who besides Bhayar even knew where I’d be? Rhodyn? But that wouldn’t have come by Telaryn courier.
He took the missive and looked at the seal. He didn’t recognize the stylized image of a pen with the hilt of a sabre. A careful look also showed that the seal had been removed, if carefully, and then replaced, but the minute traces of wax on the paper suggested that it had been replaced on the same original paper.

The hand that had written his name was not unfamiliar, but he did not immediately recognize it, and he didn’t want to ponder over it with Straesyr looking on. “Thank you, sir. I had not expected correspondence.”

“Neither had we expected any for a scholar whose presence we had not anticipated prior to Lord Bhayar’s orders.” Straesyr rose from behind the desk. “The messenger is waiting.”

“Thank you, sir,” repeated Quaeryt. “I’ll be here at seventh glass tomorrow.”

The princeps merely nodded, and Quaeryt inclined his head in reply, then turned and left the study.

The messenger turned out to be a youthful ranker who jumped to attention when Quaeryt stepped back into the anteroom, slipping the missive and the document case inside his jacket.

“You’re in the northwest tower, sir. I’ll take you down past the officers’ mess first, and then to your quarters. That way, you’ll know the most direct way to the mess.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

As he followed the young ranker back to the upper rotunda and down the grand staircase, Quaeryt pondered the implications of what the princeps had said. Bhayar had said he would be quartered in the barracks, but Straesyr had placed him in a chamber in the palace proper. Was that because Rescalyn didn’t want him anywhere near the soldiers, or because both the governor and the princeps wanted to keep a close eye on him? Or both? And then, it was clear that Straesyr was more than a little unhappy with the local scholars.

“… all the chambers for the officers and the mess are in the west wing … it’s more like a separate building, except it’s connected by a covered and walled passageway … still cold as a corpse in the winter…”

Quaeryt listened attentively as the young man led him along the main corridor and then through the windowless walled passage to the “west wing” and through another two sets of double doors and then past the mess and to the far end of the building and up a narrow staircase to the third level.

“… think you and the chorister are the only ones up here … bathing chambers are all on the main level … be quite a cold climb in the winter…”

At the top of the stone staircase, they turned right and walked to the first door, which the ranker opened. As promised, Quaeryt’s “gear” was in the chamber, the canvas bag and the rolled-up scholars’ garments set neatly beside a narrow armoire. There was a wide writing desk, with a sconce above it holding an oil lamp. The bed was single, but wider than a scholar’s pallet, and bed linens, two blankets, and a single towel were folded and set on the bottom of the mattress. On one side of the bed was a night table and on the other a narrow three-drawer chest. The door had a sturdy bolt, but no bar and no lock.