Rex Regis

41

By fifth glass of the afternoon on Samedi, the two companies were billeted, after a fashion, in and around the two inns in Ariviana, a town that wasn’t quite that, but was too large to be called a hamlet. The larger inn, Traveler’s Rest, had but ten rooms and a stable and a barn, although the public room was of a size more suited to a larger town, suggesting the locals also frequented it to a greater extent than might have been expected. The Copper Pot had eight small rooms, a public room, and a single combined barn and stables, but Calkoran professed himself satisfied with the arrangement. So did both innkeepers, which suggested to Quaeryt that given what he was willing to pay, travel was light, times were lean, and then some.

After everyone had been fed, Quaeryt, Calkoran, and Zhelan met at a circular table in the corner of the public room, somewhat too warm for Quaeryt, but when he’d earlier ventured onto the porch in the twilight, he’d been attacked immediately by hungry mosquitoes and even red flies. He decided on being uncomfortably warm rather than being a meal for the insects.

He was nursing his second lager, and it could not have been called pale by any stretch of the imagination, but thankfully at least it wasn’t bitter, and the fare, prepared partly from Quaeryt’s supplies, had been adequate, although the noodles were pasty, as he’d expected, since there hadn’t really been enough time to make them properly, and the dried mutton chewy, if edible. The biscuits had been the best part of the meal.

“You’ve had some time to think over the dispatch from Myskyl to Deucalon,” Quaeryt began. “What are your thoughts?”

“I can’t say as I have much more to offer,” began Zhelan, after Calkoran had nodded to him. “Submarshal Myskyl has to be preparing some sort of surprise for us. I can’t see him attacking us, not with you and some imagers present.”

“That suggests that he may plan to separate us from your companies, then,” said Quaeryt mildly, not that he hadn’t already considered that possibility.

“They won’t attack you,” replied Zhelan.

“Not with troopers,” agreed Quaeryt.

“Then with poison or treachery,” concluded Calkoran. “After that, we will be asked to surrender or be attacked as traitors.” He paused. “That is sad, when they are the traitors.”

“They’ll only be the traitors if they fail,” said Quaeryt, offering a sardonic smile, before taking the smallest sip of the now-warm lager, and then blotting his forehead.

“Why are the marshal and submarshal doing this?” asked Zhelan.

“Because Chayar-Bhayar’s father-died unexpectedly young, and Bhayar became Lord of Telaryn when he was twenty-seven, a mere stripling. I’m guessing that they believe that they could do a better job of ruling.” And they don’t much care for the fact that Bhayar trusts me and my judgment more than them … and the fact that I’m two years younger than Bhayar.

“Do you believe he has been a good ruler?” asked Calkoran.

“I do. He could have done some things better. That’s true of any ruler. It’s easy to see mistakes in hindsight. There are also some things he managed as well as he could, but did not turn out well. His regional governors have often been corrupt and unfair, but until he was forced into war with Bovaria, Bhayar did not have enough troopers to deal effectively with either regional governors or High Holders.”

“Will that not happen again after the wars are over?” pressed Calkoran.

Quaeryt could see a glimmer in the eyes of the older officer, but decided to answer the question. “That will depend on how long he keeps all the troopers under arms, and whether other things happen.”

“Like your Collegium?” asked Zhelan.

“If Bhayar approves all the plans for the Collegium, he will be able to keep the High Holders and governors in line.”

“That is only if you survive to make sure he keeps his word,” said Calkoran.

“Bhayar has always kept his word,” Quaeryt said.

“Perhaps he will, should something happen to you,” rejoined Calkoran, “but he will be a better ruler if nothing befalls you. Khel will not easily accept terms from Bhayar without you at his shoulder.”

“Nor will Lady Vaelora’s influence be as powerful without you,” added Zhelan.

Quaeryt grinned. “I think you two are trying to tell me something.” He laughed, good-humoredly.

After a moment so did the other two.