Princeps

61

Samedi looked to be another long day, thought Quaeryt, particularly after the regiment took almost a glass to ride around a line of supply wagons headed for Ferravyl, and that was only a glass after leaving the small unnamed town where they had spent Vendrei night in leaking barns and sheds. That rain had also softened the ground flanking the road so much that passing the wagons required the column splitting into single files and each file riding on the graveled shoulder of the road until the entire regiment was past and could re-form. The wagons mostly held barrels, either of dried and salted meat, pickled vegetables, and flour, at least from the lettering on the barrels Quaeryt could see. He rode beside Skarpa, at the head of Fourth Battalion for the day.

Once they were well past the wagons, Skarpa eased his mount closer to Quaeryt’s mare. “I haven’t mentioned it before … but I got a written complaint from the head of the town council at Tresrives. It was delivered the morning we left, but I figured it could wait until we were on the road … and then, somehow, I didn’t get to it immediately.”

“So you could claim you were too far away … or that you took care of it in the proper manner … and there’d be no way for them to know what you did.”

“Something like that.” Skarpa grinned. “You might know what it was all about.”

“A very unhappy patroller, I’d wager,” said Quaeryt. “He wanted to show a couple he thought were lowly Pharsis who was in charge, and he discovered that he was on the wrong end of a few blades and an angry husband.”

“He claims that you assaulted a local merchant.”

“The so-called local merchant came running at us with a cudgel. I took it away from him, but I never even hit him. He started yelling about how we were cursed Pharsis and the evil ones. One of the rankers quieted him with the flat of his sabre. They tied him up. The patroller came in and tried to order us out. Your squad leader was most persuasive in changing his mind.”

“Did he actually threaten the patroller?”

“I don’t recall anything like that. He did say something about the patrol chief not really wanting a visit from you because he’d offended Lord Bhayar’s sister.”

Skarpa nodded. “Your recollection matches the squad leader’s. I wanted to make sure.” After a moment he added, “Still say you’d make a good officer, scholar or not. We’re likely to be at war with the Bovarians before long, if we’re not already, and in war no one cares too much about officers who might step on the boots of merchants and High Holders. They do care whether you get the task accomplished without losing too many men. You’ve already proved that in Tilbor and as governor in Extela.”

“I also proved that most people don’t care whether a governor gets the job done, only how it affects them.”

“You proved that High Holders and snotty factors think that. The men just saw that you wanted the best for everyone, not just in Extela but when lives were on the line in Tilbor.”

“I just might have been fortunate in Tilbor.”

“When an officer is fortunate time after time, especially when he’s close enough to get wounded a few times and men and squad leaders risk their necks to save him, it’s not luck.”

“That’s a different kind of fortune, riding with good men and squad leaders.” Quaeryt gestured toward the road ahead, which curved northward in a barely perceptible arc. “This is the Great Bend?” He wanted to change the subject.

“For the next fifty milles, roughly.” Skarpa smiled. “When we’re through it, and heading due west, we’ll be about a day away from Ferravyl.”

“If it doesn’t rain again.”

“It always rains in the midlands here. Only questions are how long and how hard.”

Quaeryt smiled.

“Squad Leader Demryn did mention one interesting thing,” said Skarpa, after a long silence. “He said he offered to have the rankers wait outside the cafe, but you said they needed to eat. That was kind of you, but I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. He also said you told them that they couldn’t protect Lady Vaelora if they were outside.”

“I just said that to make it easier for them to accept a good meal.”

“From anyone else, I’d accept that unquestioningly. From you…” The commander shook his head. “Too many things you’ve said that seemed improbable when you said them have come to pass.” One hand lifted, and he pointed to the gold insignia on his collars, a crescent moon. “Like these. And then I find out that you’re actually Pharsi. I never would have thought it. Never saw a blond Pharsi, but you’ve got the eyes, when you look close.”

“Fortunate guesses. That’s all.” I really did want to make it easier for the troopers to eat. Yet Quaeryt knew Skarpa wouldn’t believe such a statement, and saying that it was so would only make it seem like he was protesting too much.

“Lord Bhayar sent you to Tilbor. He’s got Pharsi blood, too. How did he know to send you?”

How are you supposed to answer that? “I don’t know. I’ve told you what he said.”

“I’m sure that is what he said. That doesn’t mean it’s what he meant or why he sent you. And then … why did he ride all the way across Telaryn-with his sister-just to marry her to you?”

“I don’t think that’s why he came. Not the only reason. I’d been sending him reports from the day I arrived at the Telaryn Palace.”

“That’s true.” Skarpa fingered his chin. “Myskyl said something about you once. I’d wager it’s true about Lord Bhayar as well. He said that everything you said was true, but that didn’t mean it was true in the way he thought it was. I’d wager that’s true of Bhayar as well.”

“It’s probably true of most effective rulers,” Quaeryt admitted.

“You know … you did Bhayar a great favor in the way you cleaned up Extela.”

Quaeryt had a good idea as to where Skarpa was headed, but he still asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Any halfway decent governor can finish what you started, and everyone will be more happy with him. No one will question why you were replaced, and everyone will think that wherever he puts you next is just as a favor to his sister. That’s if the position looks easy. If it’s hard, they’ll say that he’s looking for a way to get rid of a family embarrassment. Either way, no one’s going to pay much attention to you, not for the right reasons, anyway. Just like Rescalyn didn’t. He thought you were there so that Bhayar didn’t have to travel to Tilbor and that if he watched you and intercepted your dispatches and had them copied so that he could read them, he’d be a step ahead.” Skarpa turned and looked directly at Quaeryt. “You knew everything would be read, didn’t you?”

“I thought it would be.”

“So how did Bhayar know what was going on?”

“He didn’t at first. I had to be careful in how I wrote things.”

“When he got to Tilbor, he knew everything that had happened.”

“He’s very sharp.”

“No. You’re very sharp, scholar, and he’s sharp enough to know it and to use you. Just like he uses his regiments.”

“Good rulers know how to recognize and use the best tools.”

“I think I said the same thing,” replied Skarpa with a laugh.

“You did. I admit it.”

“A lot of tools get broken in war, scholar. Even good ones.”

“I know that.” And he did. He also worried that Skarpa and the other commanders-and Myskyl-were building one imager scholar into something far greater and more important than he was. Even Vaelora might be doing that, if only because she loved him.

And all he’d been doing was trying to survive and to make things better for those who were scholars and imagers … and now, on top of that, to hold on to what he had with Vaelora.