Princeps

26

In the end, on Samedi morning, Quaeryt decided to take twenty bushels of potatoes along with all the bread that the bakers had turned out and, just in case someone wanted it, two barrels of flour. The column left the post later than Quaeryt had planned, partly because he had to draw out golds for Major Dhaeryn for the Civic Patrol building repairs and go over the notices to the former patrollers with Jhalyt. Even so, it was just before eighth glass before they reached the point on the avenue a mille north of the post gates, where the dwellings began to cluster together-what most would have called the southern edge of the city proper. The two majors and Quaeryt had determined that he and Meinyt and the troops would ride to the south market square first, where they would surround the wagon and then let small numbers of people walk inside the perimeter of mounted troopers to the wagon to get bread … and potatoes, if they wanted them.

As he rode beside Meinyt, with a company directly behind them, followed by the heavily laden wagon, flanked by men with bare sabres, and then by another company, Quaeryt could see that the sky over Mount Extel was clearer than it had been since he had arrived, and the air was cool, but not chill. The patrols that he had sent out on the previous days appeared to have had some impact, because the sidewalks were largely swept clear of ash, although the occasional puffs of cool wind blew ashes off the slate roofs. There were a few people-invariably men-moving about, if with deliberate caution. Some second-story windows were unshuttered, but most ground-floor shutters remained fastened.

“How many do you think will come out?” asked Meinyt.

“Very few to begin with. Then we’re likely to be swamped, and that’s when the trouble will begin.” As a boy in Solis, Quaeryt had seen how mobs behaved … and later as an apprentice quartermaster when his ship had docked in Liantiago during the rice riots there.

“That’s the way I see it. The men will be ready for anything. Told ’em that things would start slow.”

A gray-faced woman with stringy hair scuttled along the stone sidewalk, trying to keep pace with Quaeryt, who wondered from where she’d appeared so suddenly. “Food! Food … please, sir!”

“We’ll be providing bread at the south market square,” Quaeryt called out. “The south market square. If you want food, meet us there!”

On the other side of the avenue, beyond Meinyt, an old man cackled. “Food … they got food.”

People began to appear, staying well clear of the armed troopers, but following the column and the wagon toward the square.

“Word spreads fast,” observed Meinyt.

“Especially if they think they don’t have to pay for it. That’s why we’re only doing this once. On Lundi, we’ll be selling bread, flour, and potatoes in both the main market square and the south market square at the same prices as before the trouble.”

“Some folks will be unhappy that it won’t be free,” said Meinyt.

“Some are always unhappy, and that includes High Holders as well as the poor,” replied Quaeryt dryly. “We’ll give out some bread to women with children, maybe outside the post gates, and from a wagon when we’re selling.” He paused. “Do you think your squad leaders will have trouble keeping it to ten at a time?”

“There don’t look to be as many as there could be. I told them not to hesitate to use their blades, flat side if they can, edge if they can’t. Can’t let a mob get out of control.”

More than several hundred people were already waiting when the wagon, surrounded by two companies of armed troopers, pulled into the center of the square.

As Meinyt supervised the deployment of troopers in a perimeter around the wagon square, Quaeryt rode over to the squad leader in charge of distributing the food. “You set, Squad Leader?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like you to pass the word to everyone who gets food. They can buy bread, flour, and potatoes…” Quaeryt repeated what he’d told Meinyt. “We won’t be passing out much free food after today, and they need to know that.”

“Sir?”

“We’ll still give some to women with infants, but we can’t feed the whole city, even part of the city. Not for long. We will keep the prices as they were.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll tell ’em.”

“Thank you.”

Making sure his shields were firm, Quaeryt rode out through the troopers on the west side of the square and reined up. Using his imaging, he did his best to project the words he’d already discussed with Meinyt. “We’ll let a few of you at a time past the troopers, and we’ll start with women and children. We’ll start with you.” He pointed toward a woman with two children, one in her arms, and one who clung to her free hand. “No more than ten. No one else gets past here until someone leaves. Every time a person leaves, someone else gets in.”

Then he rode to the north side, the east, and then the south, delivering the same message, before returning to a position near the wagon, but from where he could observe both those approaching the wagon and those in the square beyond the troopers.

After watching for more than a quint, Quaeryt was surprised that while groups of men gathered beyond the square, some of them gathering and then separating, there were no efforts to break the perimeter. Nor did any of the men attempt to attack others-not within sight of the troopers. Most people who received food made a show of eating it inside the perimeter, although Quaeryt noted that more than a few women surreptitiously hid bread in their garments. He could also see that almost all the women also accepted the potatoes, and several had bags that they used to take flour.

The first woman he’d pointed to took her time feeding her children. Quaeryt didn’t see her take a bite herself. He called out. “Squad Leader!”

“Sir?”

“Give another loaf to her.” He pointed to the tired-faced woman.

The woman looked up as one of the rankers vaulted down and extended another loaf to her. Then she looked to Quaeryt. Her face showed nothing, but he thought there might be a brightness to her eyes before she took a bite out of the second loaf. Then, it just might be your imagination.

Almost a glass and a half passed before Quaeryt noted that people were trying to get back inside the perimeter for seconds. He signaled Meinyt that they needed to move on.

When the two companies re-formed around the wagon, and the column headed north along the avenue to the main market square, Quaeryt watched several of the men begin to follow. “That crew over there is following us.”

Meinyt turned and looked. “They know they can’t break the perimeter without taking casualties.”

“You think they’ll try a diversion.”

“It’s possible.”

“Maybe I’ll drop back to ride alongside the wagon.”

“I’ve already got it flanked, sir.”

“I know. But it can’t hurt.”

Quaeryt did slip the half-staff from its leathers, although he couldn’t have said why, as he eased to the west side of the avenue and let the teamster catch up with him before matching his pace to that of the high-sided wagon.

Immediately north of the south market square, there were only a few people on the streets, and all those appeared to be hurrying away … except for the small group of men on the east side of the avenue who kept pace with the wagon.

After riding several blocks more toward the center of Extela, Quaeryt saw a group, almost a small crowd, ahead on the west side of the avenue. When they saw the column and the wagon, they began to cry out.

“Food! We need food!”

“All the food is gone…”

“Food…”

As he rode closer, he saw that the group looked to be composed entirely of women, many with scarves covering their hair and faces, especially those at the sides and rear of the crowd. Quaeryt frowned. He hadn’t seen women crowded together so closely in Extela. Still … he’d only ridden the streets less than a handful of times.

“Please … food…”

“We’re starving…”

He looked at the thronging women again. Only the ones in front had their heads uncovered, and most of them were young … and relatively attractive. They didn’t look to be starving, unlike the gaunt older women who had trudged into the south market square, or even the tired-looking women with babes in arms who had taken bread and seated themselves on the stones and fed their children right in the square.

“Please … kind sir,” begged a young woman, barely more than a girl, for all of the cleavage she let show as she turned to face the approaching governor.

Quaeryt glanced away from her toward the women with covered faces and hair, then immediately called out, “Arms ready!” He knew that the troopers already had their sabres out, but he didn’t know the short command to alert them to an imminent attack.

Abruptly, the younger women dropped back, and the hooded “women” rushed toward the wagon and the troopers. There were also shouts on the other side of the avenue, but Quaeryt barely had time to bring down his staff on the sword arm of a burly man whose hood had fallen back as he rushed toward the ranker in front of Quaeryt. The ranker was already dealing with another attacker and didn’t see or sense the second man.

Then an impact triggered his shields, and he turned in his saddle to strike at another assailant. No more than had he slammed the half-staff across the man’s forearm, dislodging the blade, than both the women and the attackers fled down an alleyway less than three yards away. Quaeryt thought that the second attacker he’d struck was cradling an injured arm.

Abruptly, the avenue was empty except for the troopers and their equipment … and two women lying half on the sidewalk and half on the west side of the avenue and two men facedown on the street, one in a pool of blood.

Quaeryt rode around the rear of the wagon, slowed to almost a halt, to see another body on the stone pavement, and two troopers tying up a man with slashes on his arms and blood running from his scalp.

The dead man on the pavement wore a stylish and tight-fitting silk jacket. Quaeryt couldn’t help but stare for a moment, then looked up as Meinyt rode up.

Quaeryt pointed to the dead man. “Quite a coat.”

“Pimp’s jacket,” said Meinyt. “Haven’t seen one of those in years.”

“That can’t be why they put the women up to it. I can’t believe that they were starving.”

“Most likely they weren’t. I wager they thought there was coin in the wagon.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes, when times were hard, the governors in some provinces would toss coppers and silvers along with the bread. You looked like you might be doing the same thing. The whole city probably knows you recovered the treasury.”

“Do you think they’ll try again?”

“You never know. I doubt it. They got close enough to the wagon to see that the barrel was a flour barrel, not one filled with coppers.”

Quaeryt had never thought about the fact that someone would think he was going to toss coins to the crowds. He shook his head. “Toss the wounded one in the wagon for now.” Glancing back, he could see that one of the fallen women had either gotten away or been dragged off. The other one’s head was twisted at an odd angle that indicated she was dead. “Put the dead woman in the wagon. Leave the dead men.”

“You heard the governor,” said Meinyt, adding in a lower voice, “Good idea. The men’s bodies will remind them.”

Neither mentioned the fact that they didn’t want to leave a dead woman, especially a young one, lying on the street.

While a few people watched from windows, no one approached the column or the wagon closely for the rest of the way to the main market square … or even immediately after Meinyt stationed the troopers into a tight perimeter around the wagon.

Given the momentary quiet, Quaeryt rode to the wagon to see what he could discover from the wounded captive, who, he noted, wore a tight-fitting jacket similar to that of one of the dead men.

“Who ordered the attack?” asked Quaeryt.

“Frig you,” muttered the captive.

The ranker holding the man’s left arm twisted it. The captive winced, but didn’t speak.

“He won’t say anything,” said Meinyt, who had just reined up. “If he does, the others will kill him, and it won’t be pleasant.”

Quaeryt smiled coldly. “Then I think we should carry him outside the perimeter, cut him free, and thank him very publicly.”

The wounded man swallowed.

“Of course, if he has something to say, we could take him back to the post, lock him up for a time, and then let him go some night.”

“… tell you … not here.”

“We’ll have to take him back, then,” Quaeryt said.

“FRIG YOU!” screamed the captive, winking as he did.

Quaeryt didn’t like it, but he understood. He also hadn’t said where he’d release the captive. He nodded to the ranker holding the captive, then turned the mare and rode out near the perimeter, where, now that a few older women had gathered, he made the same statement he had at the southern market square.

After a slow beginning, the process of handing out bread and potatoes in the main market square went almost in the same fashion as it had at the south square, with the exception that not nearly so many men stood around looking on. Of the few handfuls who did, Quaeryt wondered how many, if any, had been in disguise in the group that had been part of the diversion in the attempted attack on the wagon. Were they looking for another opportunity … or waiting to see what happened to the captive?

In the end, though, the men drifted away, except for one, who kept looking at the wagon where the captive sat, trussed up.

After another glass and two quints, Quaeryt ordered Meinyt to re-form the column and head back to the post. While several handfuls of people watched them ride back southward, no one approached, and no one begged.

The first thing that Quaeryt noticed when he entered the courtyard of the post was that the anomen was unlocked, the ancient oak doors had been oiled, and the brasswork polished … and that Vaelora stood by the door, smiling, along with three rankers. Her riding clothes were smudged and stained in places.

Quaeryt rode across the courtyard and dismounted, then tied the mare to one of the ancient hitching rings.

The rankers eased away.

“I see you’ve been busy.”

“They did most of the work, but I knew what had to be done and how to do it.”

Quaeryt raised his eyebrows.

“Did you think that Father would train his son and not train his daughters?”

“But why?” Quaeryt’s voice held far more exasperation than curiosity.

“I can explain … I can…”

At that point both Heireg and Commander Zhrensyl strode quickly across the courtyard toward the two of them.

“Governor!” called Zhrensyl. “The rest of your regiment will be here by fourth glass.”

“I’ve got the cooks ready to feed them. Do you know how many?” asked Heireg.

“The entire regiment is four battalions of four companies each, with an extra company of engineers. All the battalions are mounted.”

“No archers?” Zhrensyl’s eyebrows lifted. “No foot?”

“Governor Straesyr’s predecessor in Tilbor only had a company of archers. They were dispatched to Lord Bhayar with the first regiment to leave Tilbor. Another two companies are being trained, but they weren’t ready. They’ll come with the next regiment. The northern regiments don’t have foot.”

“The next regiment? I thought there was only one regiment in Tilbor, two at the most. How many were there in Tilbor?”

Abruptly, Quaeryt realized that Zhrensyl wouldn’t have known, because Commander Myskyl had taken the southern route to Ferravyl, and there was no reason for Bhayar to have circulated what had actually happened in Tilbor. “Governor Rescalyn had been expanding the regiment there in order to train more recruits. That was because of the possibility of trouble with Bovaria.” All of that was true, if not quite in that context. “Governor Straesyr has been continuing that effort.”

“You’d think they’d let us know.”

“It could be that Lord Bhayar didn’t want Rex Kharst to know until the men were trained and battle-ready. He certainly never explained his reasons to me.”

Zhrensyl shook his head. “Don’t know what this world’s coming to, Governor.” He smiled. “But we’ll do our best.”

“I’m sure you will, and I appreciate it. So does Lord Bhayar.”

“Thank you, sir.” Zhrensyl looked to Vaelora. “And thank you, Lady. The anomen hasn’t looked that good in years.” He offered her a broad smile, then looked back to Quaeryt. “Quite a lady you have, Governor.”

“She is quite a lady, but I’m not so sure that she’s not the one who has me.”

“Either way, you’re both fortunate, sir.”

After the two officers had left, Quaeryt turned back to Vaelora. “I believe you were going to explain.”

“Dearest … I really am a mess.” She gestured to her soiled garb. “I’ll explain, but I don’t want to look like this for you and for the other officers. Besides, you need to take care of that poor mare.”

Quaeryt sighed. Loudly.

“Dearest … you don’t want to be disrespectful…” She offered a warm smile.

He shook his head.

“I’ll be ready for dinner.” With another smile, she hurried across the courtyard.

Quaeryt watched her for a moment, then untied the mare and walked her to the stable. While he turned her over to one of the ostlers to be unsaddled and groomed, he didn’t get more than a few yards from the stable before Major Heireg requested more of his time, both to update him on the supplies they had received from Aramyn and Chaffetz, and to talk about coal, the supplies requested by the engineers, and provisions for the rest of the regiment. Then Quaeryt quickly checked the ledger entries posted by Jhalyt.

By the time Quaeryt finished with Jhalyt, Skarpa was leading Third Regiment through the post gates. Settling the additional battalions in took the remainder of the time before the evening meal, and Quaeryt barely had time to wash up himself and then escort Vaelora to the officers’ mess.

After everyone finished eating, Vaelora excused herself quickly, leaving Skarpa and Quaeryt alone so that the commander could brief Quaeryt on what had occurred on the remainder of the ride to Extela. Quaeryt did wonder why she was being so accommodating, but suspected that she knew he was upset about the anomen and didn’t want to cause any more friction, especially in public.

He couldn’t help but wonder, then realized he’d missed what Skarpa had been saying. “Excuse me. Would you say that again?”

“Governor…” Skarpa said gently, “I asked if you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, no … you might as well go over it now.”

“You got the dispatch about the problems with the bridge at Gahenyara?”

“I did. I didn’t mean to leave you with that much.”

“You couldn’t have done anything more there, sir. From what we saw coming in here, you’ve had plenty to deal with.”

“We have indeed. Do you think the engineers can improve the east bridge?”

“They were already talking about that,” said Skarpa with a laugh. “They’ll manage. Anyway, we had more trouble with the wagons coming into Montagne. The rain we got flooded everything. Between the rain and the wagons, we lost two days.…”

Quaeryt nodded and kept listening as the commander briefed him on all that had happened to the bulk of the regiment.

When Skarpa finished, he looked directly at Quaeryt. “Like I said earlier, sir, looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

More than that. “About a quarter of the city’s buried in ash and lava. We distributed bread and potatoes today … and some flour.” In less than half a quint, Quaeryt explained what had happened, including the missing Civic Patrol and the possible problems with the various High Holders and the fact that he hadn’t even dealt with all of them.

“They’re like that everywhere, most of them, it seems.”

“Oh … do you have any other problems I need to deal with? Ones that I can do something about?” Quaeryt kept his voice light, trying to be humorous.

“Well … there is one,” mused Skarpa. “And it’s something you could do easily, sir, seeing as tomorrow is Solayi … and there’s an anomen in good repair right here on the post.”

No! Not again … But Quaeryt said nothing, knowing that any words that slipped out he would regret.

“Some of the officers, and a lot of the men … well … they saw all the destruction … They’d like a little reassurance.”

“Comfort from the Nameless,” Quaeryt managed to say.

“Yes, sir. I know it’s not something you like to make a practice of, sir…”

“I don’t know the service that well, but if they’ll all bear with me…” Quaeryt shrugged helplessly. “I’m not a chorister.”

“Everyone would appreciate it, sir.”

“So long as they understand…”

“Sir … they understand.”

Quaeryt took a long, last swallow of the bitter lager from his mug. “I suppose I’d better let you get to your officers and get some sleep in a decent bed.” He stood.

So did Skarpa. “That’d be good. Really good.”

Quaeryt walked slowly across the darkness of the courtyard to the officers’ quarters and then up the staircase and along the balcony. The door bolt on their quarters was not thrown, and he opened the door, stepped inside, and slid the bolt. Vaelora rose from where she’d been sitting at the writing desk. Although her portable inkwell and a pen were on the desk, the single sheet of paper was blank.

“You’re upset, dearest. What happened? Did Commander Skarpa lose men in another flood? Did another bridge go out?”

“You had to clean up the anomen, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

“It needed to be done,” she replied.

“Why? Was it another vision?”

Vaelora stiffened ever so slightly. “Yes. If you must know. I saw you standing at the pulpit. Why do you ask?”

“Because Skarpa asked if I’d conduct services tomorrow.” He shook his head.

Vaelora was silent.

“If the anomen were still locked…”

She nodded gently.

“But it’s not … You know how I feel!”

“Then don’t do it.”

“I can’t not do it. They need the services. There’s no one else who can do it. Some of them, maybe a lot of them, are likely to die for Bhayar if it comes to war with Bovaria. And I’m going to complain about having to talk and inspire them?” When you feel like a fraud doing it in an anomen?

“I’m sorry, dearest.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Not when I’m so angry I might say something hurtful or that I might later regret. Recalling what she’d said about not having secrets, he added, “I will later, but not now.”

“Try not to be too angry…”

Her voice was so woeful that he stopped short, then realized that she was exaggerating the tone to excess, and he found himself grinning, even as he recognized the blatantness of her words and expressions. He shook his head. “No wonder…”

“Not another word, dearest.”

He decided that was probably for the best-for the moment.