Rex Regis

25

After they had dined on Jeudi evening, alone in the “small” family dining chamber of the Chateau Regis, a chamber a good ten yards by six, at one end of a table that could have easily seated half a score, Quaeryt and Vaelora repaired to their quarters on the upper level.

In the dim illumination of twilight, Quaeryt found himself pacing back and forth in front of the windows in the sitting room.

“What is it now, dearest?”

“I can’t help it,” Quaeryt said. “Every time I think about the Bovarian factors, or the High Holders of Montagne, I get angry.”

“Because all they think about is how many golds they can amass without counting the cost to others?”

“That’s part of it. But only part. Once they saw that the imagers could repair and improve roads, everyone wanted their road improved … as if the imagers had little else to do.”

“They see what they see. To them, it takes little time, and they think it is easy.”

“They only think it is easy. They don’t see that a moment of imaging can leave an imager so exhausted he can do nothing for a glass … or a day.”

“Or for weeks,” added Vaelora softly.

“They don’t see the thousands of deaths it cost to strengthen and perfect those skills. They don’t see all the imagers who died all across Lydar for generations because they were different. They don’t see the imagers who died because they couldn’t do enough or tried to do too much.” Like Akoryt and Shaelyt.

“They don’t see how many nights you do not sleep or sleep badly,” added Vaelora. “They ignore the white hair, and the fingers you cannot move. Or that your bad leg troubles you more.”

“Are they all so greedy?” Quaeryt paused. “Are we greedy as well? And do not see it because we only see what we wish to see?”

“There are those who are greedy and those who are less so.”

“Rholan said something about that,” mused Quaeryt. “I don’t remember exactly how he put it.”

“Do you want me to find it?”

“You might as well.” I’m too agitated to settle down.

Vaelora rose and walked into the bedchamber.

Quaeryt stopped pacing and looked out the window to the south. With the spring had come greenery, and most of the scars of the previous fall’s battle had either been removed by the imagers, by Bhayar’s forces, or been muted by the growth of grasses and bushes. Yet, for a moment, Quaeryt saw a land covered in ice, with everything in sight white, even though he had not ever actually seen that. Only felt it … and endless ice within you.

Vaelora returned, holding the small leatherbound volume. “Would you like me to read it?”

“If you would.” He turned from the window and looked upon her, taking in once more the warmth that infused her, despite all she had been through … because of him.

She cleared her throat and began.

“Rholan claimed to be ambitious, but not greedy. He insisted that the distinction between ambition and greed was simple enough. Ambition was the setting of desired and fixed achievements and striving to accomplish them, while greed was the unending quest for more of whatever was desired, with no end in sight. Yet … what is the difference between a greedy man and one who, after establishing his one set of goals and achieving them, immediately determines upon another and greater set of achievements? Is there any difference? When asked this question once, Rholan simply said, ‘Knowledge,’ and refused to discuss the subject more. That was a practice he often used when he did not wish to defend a position that might have revealed any weakness on his part…”

Vaelora looked up. “There’s more, but it’s about his stubbornness.”

“Thank you, dear one. That’s the part I was thinking about,” Quaeryt said. “At least by Rholan’s definition, you and I aren’t greedy. Excessively ambitious, perhaps.” He paused. “I don’t do that, do I?”

“Do what?”

“Retreat behind a fortress of one-word cryptic statements.”

Vaelora laughed softly and warmly, closing the book as she did. “Never with me.”

“Are you saying I deluge you with words and ideas?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I have done so with you.”

“Especially in your letters. I still read them.”

“I know. It pleases me.”

“You please me.”

“Then let us talk of other matters than of greed and golds, of power and pride.”

“Such as?”

“Will you have gardens upon Imagisle? Fountains to cool the air on long summer days?”

“You’ve seen the plans. There will be gardens and greens, and there will be fountains, and places for children to run and play…”

Vaelora eased onto the settee. “Sit beside me. Tell me more.”

Quaeryt walked from the window and seated himself beside her. “I can only tell you of what I dream, for little beyond the roads and three buildings is there now.”

“Then tell me dreams, dearest…”