Rex Regis

24

On Lundi, Quaeryt had ended up working longer than he had anticipated with the imagers to repave the west river road from the Nord Bridge to the Sud Bridge after Gauswn had pointed out that getting goods, furnishings, and supplies would be difficult, given the sad state of the road serving the bridge to the isle. That had delayed some of the earthworks on the isle, but by fourth glass on Meredi afternoon, Quaeryt was satisfied with the basic earthwork on Imagisle, although it would likely be weeks, if not months, before he and the imagers would be able to complete the granite bulwark entirely around the isle.

In the meantime he and Vaelora delivered the first draft of the proposed Solidaran code of laws to Bhayar on Mardi. Bhayar read and reviewed it, and then went over it with Vaelora and Quaeryt in great detail after dinner on Meredi. Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora could dispute his observations and corrections, but making the revisions clear and consistent was likely to take several days, Quaeryt suspected, especially given that more “administrative” problems were finding their way to their small ministerial study.

On Jeudi morning, Quaeryt showed the imagers where he wanted the first roads on Imagisle-the ones connecting the bridge with the two warehouses being converted and the anomen-but he had insisted on a less direct route to leave a central green along the middle of the isle. Then he hurried back to the Chateau Regis.

He’d barely stepped inside the ministry study he shared with Vaelora when he stopped dead in his boots after seeing the expression on her face. “What is it?”

“Chamion D’Council will be here shortly.” Vaelora looked up from the desk where she had been perusing a ledger. Short as it was, her wavy brown hair still looked disarrayed.

“What does the Council want now?”

“I have no idea, but one of the squad leaders said Chamion would be here shortly.”

“Something Bhayar doesn’t want to deal with, no doubt.” But what? Quaeryt shook his head. There were all too many things about which the Council might be upset … or wanting favors or something done.

“No doubt,” said Vaelora sardonically. “There will be more of that.”

Much more.

At the knock on the study door, Quaeryt said, “Yes?”

“Councilor Chamion is here to see you.”

“Have him come in.”

Vaelora closed the ledger and stood. The two said nothing as the councilor stepped into the study.

“Commander … Lady,” offered Chamion in the deep and raspy voice that Quaeryt found particularly annoying.

“Councilor,” returned Quaeryt.

“I understand that you … and Lady Vaelora, of course,” added Chamion quickly, “are acting for Lord Bhayar in … administrative matters.” Chamion’s voice was polite, although Quaeryt thought he detected a hint of exasperation.

“He appointed us as joint Ministers of Administration and Supply for Bovaria,” replied Quaeryt. That wasn’t technically correct, since Bhayar had appointed Quaeryt and then told him to work things out with Vaelora, but Quaeryt wanted to assure anyone coming for a decision that either of them could decide. The last thing he wanted was for decisions to stack up if Bhayar sent him elsewhere … or for those decisions to be deferred to Deucalon. He and Vaelora might not always agree, but he was far more likely to be comfortable with any decision she made than one made by Deucalon … or possibly even Bhayar himself, at least in certain matters.

“I see.” Chamion nodded politely. Not a single dark gray hair on his head moved.

“How might we help you?” asked Vaelora.

“It has come to the attention of the council that Lord Bhayar has commissioned … his forces to repair and rebuild certain roads.” Chamion looked to Vaelora and then to Quaeryt.

“That is true,” said Quaeryt.

“All of the roads that have been repaired are on the west side of the river,” Chamion said blandly.

“The west side of the river is where the greatest part of the damage from the battle occurred,” replied Quaeryt. “I would note, however, that the repairs included replacement of both the Nord and Sud Bridges. Those bridges serve both sides of the river.”

“A number of factors and tradespeople are concerned that the better roads on the west side will affect them adversely.”

How could they possibly tell this soon? Quaeryt smiled and said, “The other reason for rebuilding those roads was to provide adequate access to the isle of piers. Lord Bhayar has decided that the isle should be turned to practical purposes, rather than remaining a useless eyesore.”

“Might I ask those purposes?”

“For the time being, two of the old warehouses are being converted to barracks so that fewer of Lord Bhayar’s forces will be required to impose on the people of Bovaria for quarters.”

“Ah … I see. But only two barracks?”

“No city was built in a day, honored Councilor,” interjected Vaelora smoothly. “Nor can all the repairs created by war be made as quickly as one might like.” She paused. “What was it, exactly, that you wished to bring to our attention?”

“Some … have suggested that an improvement of the east river road might demonstrate Lord Bhayar’s concerns for the people of Variana.”

Quaeryt managed a puzzled expression. “I thought those who live on the west bank of the River Aluse were within the city of Variana. Have we misunderstood something?”

“Oh, no. That is true. But…” Chamion frowned. “It is difficult to explain…”

“Do try,” suggested Vaelora warmly. “We would not wish to do something or fail to do something through lack of understanding.”

Quaeryt managed not to smile as he waited for the councilor to reply.

“Most of the city, and most of its people, lies east of the river. They do not see or encounter improvements across the river.”

“I can see that,” acknowledged Quaeryt, “but almost all the damage to the city occurred west of the river. That is why Lord Bhayar’s forces have been busy repairing things there.”

“I understand that, Lady … Commander. Still…”

“You feel that at least some gesture, some improvement, on the east side of the river would be beneficial? Is that it?” asked Quaeryt.

“Precisely. Precisely.”

“Such as a portion of the east river road?” asked Vaelora.

“That would be helpful … although…”

“At present, it will be difficult even to rebuild a section of the east river road opposite the isle of piers,” Quaeryt said mildly.

“The Council had hoped…”

“We all hope, Councilor,” said Vaelora, her voice warm, “but there is much to do. Improving a serviceable road, alas, must often wait until those areas that need roads and have none are satisfied. Or for repairs on those roads required for Lord Bhayar and his forces to be completed.”

“Still…” pressed Chamion, his deep raspy voice taking on almost a whining tone.

“We will look into it,” promised Quaeryt, “and see what is possible.”

“I suppose that is all that can be done.”

“For now,” replied Quaeryt, “unless, of course, the Council wishes to undertake such a project.”

“With the state of the Council’s finances … that is not possible. That is why we came to Lord Bhayar.”

“We appreciate the Council’s faith in Lord Bhayar,” replied Vaelora, her voice still warm. “We will do what is possible when it is possible.”

Quaeryt image-projected warmth, as well as the sense that it was time for Chamion to depart, then stepped forward. “We do hope it will not be too long before we see you and your wife again.”

Once he had escorted Chamion out of the study and closed the door, Quaeryt dropped his smile and turned back toward Vaelora. “They’re like leeches … all of them.”

“That reminds me,” said Vaelora. “There’s also a dispatch from Subcommander Ernyld to you. I didn’t open it.”

Quaeryt walked to the desk and picked up the envelope, addressed to “Ministry of Supply and Administration, Commander Quaeryt,” then reached for his belt knife. “You could have opened it.”

“Me? A mere woman? When it was addressed to you?”

“It was addressed to the ministry, with my name penned almost as an afterthought.”

“Even less would I wish to open it.”

“You don’t care for the subcommander?”

“I’ve never met him.”

“Then why-”

“Deucalon chose him.”

Quaeryt decided not to pursue that line of inquiry, slit open the envelope, and began to read. After skimming the brief courtesies, he centered his attention on the second paragraph.

As you doubtless know, Lord Bhayar has made it most clear that the armies of Telaryn should purchase supplies and not seize them. We are to seek the most favorable prices. It has become clear, however, that, unlike elsewhere, near Variana there is only one price from all merchants and factors for most basic goods. This seems most unreasonable, and far too dear for the forces of the Lord of Telaryn and Bovaria … hoping that the Ministry of Supply might be of assistance in this matter …

With the implication that we aren’t of much use if we can’t. Quaeryt finished reading the letter, then turned to Vaelora. “Ernyld’s complaining about the prices he has to pay to provision the armies, but he never says what the prices are. Do you have any idea what they’re paying for goods like flour, potatoes, mutton, and the like?”

“No. We’ve just been getting simple reports on the total amount spent on a weekly basis for flour, mutton, root vegetables. With everything else…”

“I’ll have to go inquire of his clerks, then. We can’t complain about prices until we know what they are.”

“You don’t want to send a message?”

“The clerks will tell me the real costs.”

“You don’t trust Ernyld any more than I do.”

“Did I ever say otherwise?’ After a moment he added, “I’d best deal with this now.”

“Better you than me, dearest.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

They exchanged smiles before Quaeryt donned his visor cap and left the study.

As he walked back to the chateau stables, Quaeryt had to search his memory for the prices Skarpa’s forces had paid for similar goods in Extela. After a moment he recalled that the High Holders had wanted at least a gold a barrel for flour, but the price had been eight silvers before the eruption, and that had been in spring in the north.

Two quints later, at the headquarters holding, Quaeryt found Zhelan outside the dilapidated stables that held first company’s mounts.

“Zhelan … I need your help, again…”

“Sir?”

“Have you been able to purchase grain and flour for first company and Eleventh Regiment?”

“I did, sir, until Subcommander Ernyld requested that we requisition that through his clerks. Saved us silvers, because the Northern Army pays for it, and not you.”

“What were you paying?”

“Grain … less than a copper a barrel … flour … was running around six silvers, likely be higher now…”

Quaeryt listened, then asked, “Where are Ernyld’s supply clerks?”

“They’re in the rooms at the far end of the second stable.”

“Do you know the name of the head clerk?”

“No, sir.” A puzzled expression crossed the major’s face, but he did not offer a question.

“Apparently, the marshal is having difficulty with local factors. I’m supposed to look into it, but Subcommander Ernyld failed to supply details. I thought it might be useful to gather that information myself.”

“I see, sir.”

Although Zhelan’s voice was even, Quaeryt could see the amusement in the major’s eyes. “Not a word, Major.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Quaeryt grinned, then turned and headed for the far stables.

The stables were indeed distant-close to a third of a mille from the main courtyard of the holding-and Quaeryt was sweating considerably in the late spring sunlight by the time he opened the battered ironbound door to the domain of the supply clerks.

A young ranker looked up from the narrow table just inside the door. “Commander, sir?”

“Commander Quaeryt. I’m here to see the head clerk. Who might that be?”

“Senior Squad Leader Alylor, sir.”

“If you’d escort me.” Quaeryt projected absolute authority and certainty.

“Ah … yes, sir.”

At the table in the far corner of the room sat a graying senior squad leader, with several ledgers before him. His eyes followed Quaeryt as he approached, and he finally stood.

“Commander…?”

“Commander Quaeryt.”

“Oh, yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I need some information from you in order to follow up on a request by Subcommander Ernyld.” The sound of a door closing behind Quaeryt suggested that the young ranker who had escorted him-or someone else-had hurried out the front door as soon as he could. Doubtless to let someone know that a strange commander is querying the clerks.

“Sir?”

“Lord Bhayar has asked me to assist in dealing with factors and suppliers who appear to be unwilling to supply provisions except at, shall we say, questionably high prices. To do this, I need the names of those factors, and the recent prices.” Quaeryt smiled politely at the head clerk.

“Sir … this is … unusual.”

“Anything involved with Lord Bhayar usually is. It is also generally urgent.” Quaeryt smiled once more.

“We could certainly supply that, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll wait while you or one of your clerks write down what I need.”

“Now, sir?”

“What better time? I can’t solve the problem without the information. You have the information. You write it down, and I get on with resolving matters.”

“This is unusual.”

“I believe you said that before.”

“Yes, sir.”

A quint later, Senior Squad Leader Alylor handed Quaeryt a short listing. “These are the prices we’ve been paying for the last month. In a moment Forawal will finish the listing of the factors with whom we’ve been dealing.” Alylor’s eyes flicked toward the door. “Oh … Subcommander Ernyld is here.”

Quaeryt neither turned nor rose until Ernyld was almost upon him. Then he stood and smiled politely.

“Commander Quaeryt … I hadn’t expected to find you here among the clerks.” Ernyld offered a wide smile in return, and one as false as warm sunlight in Ianus.

“I’ve been following up on your request for assistance in obtaining a fair price for provisions.”

“We should talk about it in my study.”

“We should indeed,” agreed Quaeryt. “After I finish here. It shouldn’t take long.” He image-projected friendly warmth.

For a long moment Ernyld said nothing. Then he nodded. “My study is above the main stable. Take the end outside staircase.”

“I’ll be there after I get the second list from your clerks.”

“Splendid!” Ernyld’s smile was clearly forced.

Alylor’s eyes followed the subcommander’s departure.

“The second list?” prompted Quaeryt.

“Oh … yes. Let me see if Forawal has finished it.” Alylor rose and scuttled to the other side of the study filled with clerks, tables, and ledgers.

Shortly he returned. “The first sheet is that of the factors with whom we have placed large orders. The second are those used but occasionally, usually for items of smaller quantities.”

Items for the marshal’s personal mess, most likely. “Thank you.” Taking the small sheaf of papers, Quaeryt stepped away from the desk. “I do appreciate your courtesy and haste.”

“We do try to please, Commander.”

“Lord Bhayar will appreciate that.” With a last polite smile, Quaeryt turned, left the clerks’ study, and began the walk back to the main courtyard.

Quaeryt could sense Ernyld’s agitation from the doorway to the study of the chief of staff, but he said nothing as he entered and took a chair across the table from the subcommander. Then he smiled and said, “Your clerks were most helpful.”

“I had not expected such … an immediate response. I would have been pleased to have supplied the figures you needed without your having to take your valuable time to come and obtain it.”

“I am most certain you would have been,” said Quaeryt. “But, having been a princeps and a governor, I knew exactly what information I needed, and I would not wish the marshal to pay a silver more than required any longer than necessary. Lord Bhayar’s coffers are not endless, and maintaining thirty regiments far from Solis is costly.”

“That is true, but at times … perhaps not in this instance … failing to follow the chain of command can lead to misunderstandings.”

“You are most correct about that,” replied Quaeryt. “But this is one of those instances. The marshal, I know from experience, believes that certain accomplishments need be done in a most timely fashion, and your dispatch suggested that this was one of those times.”

“Ah … yes. He was most concerned.”

Most concerned to make the Ministry of Administration and Supply look slow and unresponsive. “You can convey to him that we will be taking matters to the factors once we have made a quick investigation.”

“Might I ask…” At the look on Quaeryt’s face, Ernyld said quickly, “I suppose not.”

Quaeryt rose. “Once we have looked into the matter, I will let you know.” He could feel the subcommander’s eyes on his back as he left and walked down the outside stairs and made his way to where the gelding was tied.

Two quints later, he was back at the Chateau Regis talking to Vaelora.

“I’ve only glanced over the prices Ernyld is paying, but they look to be too high by one or two parts in ten. I didn’t tell him that because-”

“He’ll want you to do better than that … and he’ll take the credit.”

“He will anyway. I’ll have to meet with the factors’ council.”

“They’re restricting supplies like the factors in Laaryn did, aren’t they?”

“Most likely,” replied Quaeryt. “People don’t change the way they do business unless they can make more golds or unless their lives or their businesses are in danger. That seems to be especially true here in Bovaria.”

“There’s one other matter,” said Vaelora. “I was about to tell you, before the councilor arrived, that several factors who are located south of the Sud Bridge on the west river road sent a petition-”

“And they want the paved section extended to their factorages and warehouses? Preferably yesterday?”

“Of course.”

“And before long, those north of the Nord Bridge will be asking for the same. And if we manage to rebuild some of the east river road, then whoever isn’t served by the new good road will be complaining that they’re left out.” Quaeryt shook his head. “I thought the High Holders in Montagne were bad, but the more I encounter the factors of Bovaria…”

“They really haven’t been ruled in generations. Not effectively.”

“No. All Kharst wanted was his palaces and privileges.” And his way with women, whether they were willing or not. “We’ll have to change that, I think.”

Vaelora nodded, but there was a sadness to her small smile.