Rex Regis

42

At second glass of the afternoon on Mardi, Quaeryt spied one of the millestones that had become less and less frequent the farther north they had ridden from Variana: VAESTORA-5 M.

“Wasn’t sure we’d see another town,” said Zhelan. “It’s almost like the old borders in the north between Telaryn and Bovaria. Just hamlets, and no real towns.”

“You did say that it was like a different land in the north. Maybe these are the marches or the borderlands.”

“Didn’t you say one of the High Holders said the same thing, sir?”

“Caemren said that the High Holders in the north behaved like Rivages was a different land. That’s true. He also said that because the unifier of Bovaria came from Rivages, they felt special.” And from what I’ve seen, people who think they’re innately special are dangerous. Quaeryt looked northward along the road, but nothing ahead looked any different from the cots and fields and woodlots they’d been riding past for the past three days.

More than a glass passed before Quaeryt caught sight of what he thought might be the outskirts of Vaestora. The first thing that struck him was that, at the clear boundary of the town, there was a street set at right angles to the river road, with the streets beyond, all paved in brick, laid out in a gridlike pattern, forming square blocks. The dwellings and shop were modest, but all had walls of either rough-cut native stone or brick, if not both, with roofs he had thought were dull slate. As he drew closer, he saw they were of a flat dark gray tile.

The second striking fact was that the river road led straight to a raised circular hill whose crest had been flattened, possibly centuries ago, on which stood a large walled keep, dominated by a tall square tower that rose behind the eastern walls. Quaeryt realized that Caemren definitely had not overstated matters when he’d told Quaeryt that Seliadyn’s holding was in the middle of Vaestora. Both the hold and its rough-finished stone walls had to be ancient, and the town had clearly grown up around it, suggesting to Quaeryt that Seliadyn’s lineage was long-standing-or that he or his forbears had taken over the holding from an ancient lineage.

When Quaeryt neared the edge of the square just below the open gates in the hold walls, he could also see that those walls enclosed a space larger than the town itself, although, properly speaking, Vaestora looked to be the size of a large hamlet. Yet he’d never seen a hamlet with paved streets. Nor had he seen a high holding or a keep with such a large tower, especially one that so dominated the dwellings over which it looked.

Various shops lined the north and south sides of the open paved square. The west side was bordered by the grassy slope leading up to the walls, with the paved road to the gate leading from the middle of the western edge of the square. On the eastern end of the square was a small inn that had no signboard or indicator of what it might be called.

As Quaeryt entered the square, he caught sight of a pump and a watering trough in the northwest corner. “Water the horses here in the square, and have the men stand down. Given the smallness of the inn, I may see about prevailing upon Seliadyn’s hospitality.”

“If he has any.”

“That’s a possibility as well,” replied Quaeryt. “But I might as well see. The mounts need water in any case.”

While Zhelan and Calkoran arranged for the watering, Quaeryt and three rankers from first company rode from the square up the slight slope of the stone-paved road to the open gates. At first glance, the gates looked to be a formality, attached to the front of the walls, and barely blocking the opening. But the walls on each side and above the gates rose almost ten yards, and Quaeryt could see two sets of ironbound doors and the stone slots into which they could be moved. In the middle of the five yards between the war gates he could see the bottom of an iron portcullis.

Very interesting. Quaeryt nodded.

Just inside the very thick walls was a guardhouse, and standing in the shades of the overhanging roof were two guards in yellow and black uniforms. Quaeryt reined up short of them.

“Yes, sir?” inquired the taller guard.

“I’m Commander Quaeryt. I’ve been sent by Lord Bhayar to see High Holder Seliadyn.”

The guard nodded. “If you’ll follow Hiern, here, he’ll show you the way.”

“This way, sir!” offered the younger and shorter guard enthusiastically. “You can tie your horse right outside the tower.” He turned and hurried at a fast walk back toward the square tower, set some fifty yards directly behind the gates.

Quaeryt followed, noting that the entire space inside the east wall of the keep was paved, running from the north wall to the south wall, a distance of some four hundred yards. While many of the stone paving squares were clearly ancient, others were replacements, creating an intermittent pattern of lighter and darker squares. The pavement extended perhaps ten yards west of the rear of the tower, a structure fifty yards on a side. Farther to the east, there appeared to be several large outbuildings, one of which looked to be a stable and another a barracks, although all the windows and doors were covered with shutters.

Following the guard, holding full shields, Quaeryt looked up at the tower, counting the levels, using the windows as a guide. From what he could tell, there were at least eight levels, but it appeared that the lowest level-the one set at ground level-had no windows at all, and the second level offered only intermittent embrasures.

The guard stopped at the bottom of a stone staircase perhaps three yards wide that led up to the second level and a set of double doors. Quaeryt had the definite feeling that the staircase had been added later-much later. On each side of the steps were bronze hitching rails, and a long mounting block was set out from the bottommost step.

“You can tie your mount here.” The guard rang a bell set in a bronze bracket on a bronze post by the foot of the staircase.

As Quaeryt dismounted, a figure in black and yellow livery stepped out of the doors at the top of the steps.

“A commander from Lord Bhayar to see the master!” called the young guard.

“He’s expected.” The functionary bowed slightly.

Quaeryt turned to the rankers. “Just wait here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he turned to the guard. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Quaeryt made his way up the steps to the wide area outside the double doors.

“I’m Wereas, the steward, sir. How might I announce you, sir?”

“Commander Quaeryt.”

“You’re fortunate. He saw your forces enter the town. He’s curious. He isn’t always.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, sir. He just said that there was something different, and that he was receiving.”

Receiving?

“In his study. That’s on the fourth level, facing the river. This way, if you would, sir.” The steward held the polished and oiled heavy oak door, then closed it behind Quaeryt, and stepped ahead to lead Quaeryt through the square entry hall past an arch to another staircase, one of green marble that led up a level to a landing, with two smaller staircases, one at each end of the wide landing, and each leading back east and up another level. The staircase in effect created an atrium of sorts almost three levels high. After riding much of the day, Quaeryt was careful with his bad leg as he made his way up the grand staircase, with its green marble steps and its dark wooden paneled walls, graced in places with light green silk hangings.

“To the left, sir,” suggested Wereas once they had reached the fourth level, “and all the way back.”

Quaeryt only passed one door, and it was closed, before the steward stopped at the second door, also closed, and rapped on it once. “Commander Quaeryt, from Variana and Lord Bhayar.”

“Have him come in.”

Wereas opened the door.

Quaeryt stepped into the study, a chamber whose interior walls were entirely covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, possibly one of the two or three largest collections he’d seen, certainly smaller than the collection of the Khanar in the Telaryn Palace, and possibly the same size as that of the scholarium in Solis. The exterior walls, except for the tall and narrow windows, were paneled in the same dark wood as the staircase. Each window was flanked by the pale green silk hangings. A thick carpet of a darker green, its border showing intertwined black and gold chains, covered most of the dark wooden floor except a half yard from the walls.

High Holder Seliadyn sat behind a wide table desk, empty except for two volumes, bound in green leather. As Quaeryt stepped toward the desk, Seliadyn stood.

Quaeryt hadn’t been certain what to expect, given the way Caemren had described Seliadyn, but the High Holder was a tall man, at least a few digits taller than Quaeryt. He wore dark gray trousers and a matching jacket over a pale gray shirt. His boots were black and polished, and his silver-white hair was thick, but cut short. He gestured to the pair of wooden armchairs, upholstered in leather stained pale green to match the hangings.

Seliadyn asked politely, “Do you prefer lager, ale, or wine, Commander?”

“Pale lager, if possible.”

“A fighting commander, but one with taste.” The High Holder addressed the steward. “Two lagers, Wereas.”

The steward nodded and stepped back, departing, but leaving the study door open.

Quaeryt moved to the chair closest to the window, but did not seat himself until Seliadyn began to do the same.

“Also familiar with court protocol,” said the High Holder. “You brought two companies. That speaks of a man sent to investigate or to take over command. Even with that white hair, I have my doubts about your taking command of six regiments from a submarshal. Do you care to tell me the problem?”

“Let me just say that Lord Bhayar doesn’t know if there is a problem, except in communications.” Quaeryt smiled politely.

“Your uniform is a brownish green, but well cut. That doesn’t suggest shoddy tailoring or cloth. Were you a scholar? Or are you?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“You limp slightly, and there’s something wrong with your hand. How many times have you been wounded?”

“Enough.” Quaeryt almost laughed.

Seliadyn’s eyes went to the door, and he motioned.

Wereas carried two beakers on a tray. Both held an extremely pale lager. He offered the tray to Quaeryt, who took the beaker slightly farther from him.

Seliadyn took the other beaker and lifted it, then took a small swallow before setting it on the table desk. “This isn’t mine. My vineyards produce a good hearty red and a passable white, but I don’t have the best grain lands. We do get a few barrels of a decent apple brandy once in a while.” After the slightest pause, Seliadyn went on. “You’re Pharsi, aren’t you? Was your hair black or white-blond before it turned white?”

“White-blond,” replied Quaeryt, before taking a small sip of the lager. “This is excellent.”

“Thank you. I’ve always thought so. White-blond. That makes you the dangerous kind. It also explains why Bhayar won.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Even with his heritage, you wouldn’t be a commander if you weren’t good at something. Cowards or those who command from the rear-or cosseted staff officers-usually don’t get wounded. If you’re commanding from the front, you’re good or you’d be dead.”

“So why are you still alive?” asked Quaeryt.

Seliadyn nodded. “That’s a perceptive question. I assume you noticed the real gates?”

“Two sets of ironbound war gates and a portcullis.”

“That’s part of the reason. The hold is close to self-sufficient. It’s also almost three hundred milles from Variana, and I said little on the few occasions I was requested to attend Rex Kharst. I’ve always paid my people well for information, and whenever Kharst’s assassins appeared nearby … well … they found matters difficult here. After I outwaited them several times, while giving no overt offense, Kharst decided other interests were less troublesome. That could not have continued, of course. My eldest daughter is twelve and is already showing signs of beauty. So I must admit that I’m grateful for Lord Bhayar’s intervention. You are married?”

“Yes. Comparatively recently.”

“Of course. Young and dashing commanders are much more appealing than scholars. But then, scholars are also often more ruthless.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m dashing.”

“But you’re well connected. For that reason, and for reasons of my own, you and your men are welcome to use the old barracks for the night. I can supply provisions, but your cooks will have to do the preparations. The officers’ quarters are spare but comfortable. The rankers’ quarters are just spare. There is a small fenced pasture inside the walls which should hold your mounts.” Seliadyn smiled. “That way, also, you won’t have to impose on the people of Vaestora.”

Quaeryt returned the smile. “I had hoped that your hospitality might be a possibility.”

“I can be hospitable to those who are reasonable.”

“Such hospitality is still much appreciated.” Quaeryt lifted the beaker to the High Holder.

Seliadyn nodded, then said, “I assume you are headed to Rivages. You might be interested to know that the submarshal has stationed a regiment-I assume he is rotating them-some five milles south of Rivages proper.”

“Is there a road along the west side of the Aluse?” asked Quaeryt.

“There is, but it’s a poor excuse for one, except for the last four or five milles into Rivages. That’s because Daefol has his holding off it. His great-great-grandsire built it on the top of the highest hill around. Rather, the highest hill with a spring. The present Daefol claims that was so that his forbear would always have water and never be flooded out.” Seliadyn snorted.”It doesn’t matter if you’ve got water and walls, if you’re a fool.”

“Would you care to explain his particular foolishness?”

“Agreeing with the late Fiancryt and his scheming wife.”

“I heard she had some ties with Kharst.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Too bad she wasn’t at Chateau Regis when Lord Bhayar’s imagers froze it solid. Then, she’s always been good at getting others to pay for her ambitions. Now … she’s likely using her wiles on the submarshal or some senior commander.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind … but that was why you told me, wasn’t it?”

“Of course.” Seliadyn smiled and took a sip from his beaker.

“Are there any bridges across the Aluse between here and Rivages?”

“Not except for the one in the middle of the city. Half of Rivages is one side, half on the other.”

“What about High Holder Paliast?”

“He’s mostly a High Holder by courtesy. He lost half his lands to Ryel. Rather, he lost them to Ryel’s wife. She wouldn’t leave the holding, but she ran it better than he ever could have. While he was spending golds in Variana, she was making them in Rivages. Paliast owed more than he or his son-I guess young Paliast is now High Holder, but he’s no stronger than his sire was…”

Quaeryt continued to take small sips of the excellent pale lager while he asked questions and listened to Seliadyn.

After another quint had passed, the older man smiled. “I’ve talked enough, and you need to get your men settled. The head ostler can show your captains where the grain for your mounts is. If you have any other questions, Wereas can answer them for you.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt rose and inclined his head. “I do appreciate your kindness and hospitality … and the excellent lager.”

“It’s to my interest … and to yours, Commander.” Seliadyn paused, then asked, “Are you as ruthless as they say?”

Although that was the first inclination that the High Holder had given that he might know Quaeryt, at least by reputation, Quaeryt couldn’t say he was surprised. “I’d like to put it another way, High Holder. Commanders don’t make the choices of whether men get killed. Those choices are made by rulers like Rex Kharst and Lord Bhayar. Once those choices are made, my only choices are how what I do affects how few of my men die. I am likely ruthless in working to keep those numbers low … and that usually means that a greater number of my opponents die. When possible, I’ve tried to obtain advantages where few die. Those occasions have been few. I hope they become more frequent in the future.”

“A very scholarly and very practical answer. I wouldn’t have expected less.” Seliadyn rose. “A good afternoon to you, Commander.”

“And to you, sir.” Quaeryt inclined his head, then eased away from the chair.

He wasn’t surprised to see Wereas waiting in the hallway outside the study.