Rex Regis

18

Quaeryt woke early on Solayi morning, out of uneasy dreams he could not remember. At least, there was no ice … no dead troopers staring at you. Rather than wake Vaelora by moving, he lay there, thinking, for what was likely a glass, trying to work out in his mind all he needed to do in the week ahead.

After dressing and a leisurely breakfast with Vaelora, in their chambers, he took out the three map folios he’d taken from Paitrak’s library, and he and Vaelora pored over them together.

Less than a quint into studying the maps, Vaelora looked at Quaeryt. “There aren’t any provincial or regional boundaries shown for Bovaria.”

“But the maps have the old provincial boundaries for Telaryn,” added Quaeryt. “If the mapmakers knew about those, then they would have drawn provincial boundaries for Bovaria … if Bovaria had provinces.”

“No one said they didn’t.”

“People don’t mention what doesn’t exist,” Quaeryt said dryly, “except for food and golds.”

“You thought they didn’t, though.”

“I did, but Bhayar’s going to need provincial governors, or the equivalent. That’s why I got the maps together. I wanted to see if we could figure out reasonable boundaries for governors before he’s forced into agreeing to governors’ territories by Deucalon or Myskyl … or just by necessity.”

“How many governors are you thinking about?”

“Telaryn had six, counting Tilbor. Bovaria isn’t as spread out, and a lot of the north doesn’t have many people, especially in the Montagnes D’Glace. I was thinking four, but I wanted to look at that map that shows the hills and mountains…”

“You know … this is just another thing…”

“I know. But you married me, and because of that, most of what we do will be forgotten or attributed to others. Calkoran mentioned that again the other day. The problem is that the alternative is worse.”

“He said that in Khel, too.” Vaelora smiled. “We’ll just have to make sure that brother dear gets the credit and not Deucalon or Myskyl.”

Somewhat more than a glass later, Quaeryt and Vaelora had sketched out rough boundaries for four regions of Bovaria, each with a larger town or city from which a regional governor could administer the surrounding area. Laaryn was one of those, and that would make an easy transition for whoever followed Meinyt, assuming Bhayar agreed to something at least similar to what Vaelora and Quaeryt had sketched out.

After that, he sent a messenger to have the duty squad ride to the Chateau Regis to meet them at the first glass of the afternoon. During the interim, he and Vaelora toured the Chateau Regis, taking notes on the still-vacant chambers of the large structure and determining where the best place for administration and logistics might be.

Both Quaeryt and Vaelora were on the front steps of the chateau a quint before the glass. The sky was slightly hazy, and a cool but not cold breeze blew out of the northeast.

“The entry and the drive look much better,” observed Vaelora.

“They should.” Quaeryt still didn’t like the raw dirt around the carriage park and bordering the new drive, but imaging wasn’t good for creating the growing plants for gardens and parks. That took gardeners and time.

“Where are we riding?”

“From the Chateau Regis along the road we’ll have to rebuild all the way to the River Aluse, then down along the west shore to the isle of piers.”

“You want to have a good look at what the imagers will need to do.”

“And a better look at this part of Variana. You might recall that I didn’t see all that much of it before we set out for Khel.”

Before long a squad from Eleventh Regiment rode up the west drive and reined up.

“Good afternoon, Lady, sir,” said the squad leader, inclining his head and motioning for a ranker to lead the black mare and gelding forward for Vaelora and Quaeryt to mount.

“Good afternoon,” replied Vaelora cheerfully before mounting.

Quaeryt just nodded, smiled, and mounted. Then he and Vaelora led the way down the eastern drive toward the old road and the north bridge over the River Aluse. Although the calendar date was the first of Avryl, the midpoint of spring, most of the trees were still leafing out, and many of the spring flowers were still budding.

Was that because of what you did? Quaeryt half smiled at the thought, reminding himself that the trees and flowers had been leafing out just as slowly all the way along the last hundred milles of their ride along the Great Canal.

For the first half mille from the Chateau Regis, there were no dwellings, just the smoothed over remnants of earthworks that had been dug into what had been Rex Kharst’s park surrounding the chateau. Closer to the river there were modest shops and dwellings, and while some still showed damages, most of them seemed to be occupied, although there were few people on the streets, unsurprisingly for a Solayi afternoon.

When they neared the River Aluse, Quaeryt and Vaelora reined up short of the north bridge itself, and Quaeryt studied the old stone structure barely wide enough for two wagons side by side. “We need a better bridge.”

“The one south of the isle is worse,” said Vaelora.

“I haven’t seen it. You looked at it when I was recovering?”

“We came by the roads on the north side of the river. So we rode through Variana and over the south bridge. It’s narrower and older.”

“That figures. Neither Kharst nor any of his forbears wanted to spend much on roads or bridges-except for the road from Nordeau to Chateau Regis.” Quaeryt shook his head, then turned to the squad leader. “We’ll head south along the river road now.” What he called the river road was more like a cobbled lane. Another imager project.

The river was still running high, well above its normal level. That, Quaeryt could tell because he could see that parts of a stone pathway on the east side of the river were almost a yard underwater.

Less than half a mille south of the north bridge, Quaeryt reined up to study the north end of the isle of piers, an expanse of mudflats, brush, and rubbish washed onto the flats, apparently by earlier spring runoff. The flats extended only twenty yards or so before ending in a rocky escarpment that rose at least a good five yards above the flats.

Quaeryt nodded. He’d thought that the majority of the isle was well above the river, and if the imagers built a stone retaining wall, almost like the prow of a ship, at the north end, that would help protect the rest of the isle as well.

After studying the northern part of the isle, he, Vaelora, and the duty squad continued southward until they reached a point opposite the middle of the isle, where he again called a halt.

“You’ll need a bridge across to the isle,” said Vaelora.

“I know. I’d thought about imaging one today, but…” He smiled wryly and shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because as soon as there is a bridge, the poor and those with nowhere else to go will sneak across it in darkness, and that will make improving the isle just that much more difficult.” He didn’t mention that it was likely many of those who were homeless were likely so because of his own efforts in the battle of Variana.

As he looked across the river to the isle, amid the ruined buildings, toward the southern end of the isle, he thought he saw what might be-or have been-an anomen between two sagging warehouses … an old anomen. Can you restore it? He smiled at the thought, the idea that he wanted to restore the anomen to a deity he wasn’t certain even existed. You’d better find a good chorister first, or you’ll end up being pressed into giving more homilies and conducting services.

“Why are you smiling?” asked Vaelora.

“There’s an old anomen over there in the ruins.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t say you did,” he replied with a grin, “but you do have this penchant for fixing up anomens…”

“Only one.” She smiled back at him.

He shook his head ruefully, then said, “We should head back. I hope the south road to the chateau is in better repair.”

“It isn’t,” replied Vaelora.

“You would have to tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

They both smiled.