Scholar

47

By midday on Lundi, Quaeryt was riding beside Major Skarpa on the river road, heading northwest from Tilbora, with five companies following them. Fastened behind his saddle was a cylindrical kit bag that had been left in his quarters on Solayi afternoon and that held a spare set of browns and other items that he would need for the time-not ever spelled out, except in general terms along the lines of “as long as it takes to give you a good understanding”-he was supposed to accompany the companies of Sixth Battalion. Those generalities didn’t give him the best feelings about what Rescalyn had in mind.

It might have been the first day of Erntyn, the second month of harvest, but the air was hot and heavy, and Quaeryt kept having to blot his forehead and the back of his neck. Part of that was because of the effort he was making to hold very light imaging shields, although he had figured how to link them to his saddle so that he didn’t have to keep creating new ones as he rode.

When everything finally appeared settled into a routine, Quaeryt looked to Skarpa and said, “When I talked to the governor for a few moments on Samedi, it was clear that he seems to know anything that goes on in the regiment.”

“Good marshals and commanders do. Even as governor, he still holds the rank of marshal. He meets with the regiment commander daily, and he joins the commander’s meetings with each battalion major at least once a week. He doesn’t ever go around the chain of command. He’ll let the commander ask most of the questions, but those meetings aren’t a formality. Both he and the commander ask solid questions. Afterward we often get suggestions from the commander, things like differences in training or possible shifts in junior officers.…” Skarpa laughed. “I can usually guess which suggestion is from Commander Myskyl and which is from the governor. Either way, they’re usually right. Not always. If I can explain why it’s not a good idea, the commander doesn’t press. He just wants his officers to think things through. So does the marshal.”

“What did you think about the reception on Samedi? Does he have them often, or it is something he seldom does?”

“The governor has one every few weeks, and there are always a few majors at each reception. I hadn’t been to one in about a year. It was pleasant enough. Good food, but the receptions are almost like an informal inspection.”

Somehow, Quaeryt doubted that his presence and that of Skarpa at the same reception had been any sort of coincidence.

“What did you think, scholar?”

“I thought both the governor and the lady were very impressive. In different ways, of course.”

“She’s a pretty woman. You talked to her. I saw.”

“Just for a few moments, about Variana and Bovaria, and the music she played. The governor is quietly protective.”

“He might be. His wife died years ago. They never had any children, and he never found anyone else. That’s what Phargos told me. He’d know.”

“I haven’t seen the governor at services.”

“He doesn’t attend often. He talks to Phargos, though.”

“How did Rescalyn become governor?”

Skarpa laughed. “He was the submarshal under Fhayt, but went back to Solis with Lord Chayar. Then, after Fhayt made that mess with the Pharsi women-do you know about that?”

“I heard that there was trouble between the local women and soldiers. One thing led to another and Fhayt leveled part of Tilbora.”

“That’s about right. It happened a year or so before Lord Chayar died. Even back then, Straesyr was princeps, but he was in the north, talking to the factors around Noira. Fhayt was always a little hotheaded, and Straesyr usually calmed him down, but … he wasn’t there. People got hurt, and some more soldiers got killed. The Pharsi mostly moved south, and their tariffs went with them, and Fhayt increased tariffs-”

“Tariffs are higher here? Because of the war? To pay back the cost?”

“That’s what Phargos says. In another three years, they go back to the rates for the rest of Telaryn.”

Is that why the southers are so calm?

“Chayar was furious, but then some brigands attacked Fhayt while he was on his way to meet with a High Holder, and that made Lord Chayar even more angry. Word was that an attack and an uprising together showed incompetence and stupidity. He sent Rescalyn to replace Fhayt, but he did give Fhayt a stipend. That was if he returned to Solis immediately. If he didn’t, he’d be tried for treason and incompetence. It didn’t matter. He died of the flux on the trip back.” Skarpa’s last words were laconically ironic.

“And Straesyr remained as princeps?”

“He’s good at it, they say. He was a submarshal in charge of supplies and the like. He can talk to the merchanters and the crafters’ guilds. He probably would have been a better governor than Fhayt, but Fhayt was a good battlefield commander.”

“Some field commanders aren’t so good once they leave the field.”

“Some aren’t good in the field. Rescalyn’s gotten rid of those. There’s one good thing about all these little battles with the hill types. We can see which of the undercaptains are good and which aren’t, and sometimes pick the good ones when they’re still squad leaders.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but I’m a scholar, not a soldier,” Quaeryt admitted. “How good are the hill fighters?”

“Good? I wouldn’t call them good. They’re sneaky. Always setting ambushes and traps. You have to keep your eyes open all the time. It took a while to get used to that.” Skarpa laughed again. “That’s another reason for all the maneuver training when companies come back from the hills. The governor doesn’t want the officers and men to forget how they’ll need to fight against the Bovarians or the Antiagons.”

Quaeryt nodded. “What do you think I’ll learn on your patrols?”

“How to keep your eyes open and watch for the smallest signs.”

“I meant about Tilbor.”

“They’re people like people anywhere, except the hill folk are more selfish and meaner. They think everything they see should belong to them. Don’t think a thing about putting a shaft through anyone who wanders into their woods, or what they claim as theirs.”

“Are they good with bows?”

“I wish they weren’t. We usually lose a few men on every rotation, more officers and squad leaders than rankers. They single them out.”

“You’re still here, after all that?”

Skarpa offered a crooked grin. “I said you need to keep your eyes and ears open for any little thing that’s different.”

And you’re supposed to know what’s different when you’ve never even been here before?

Quaeryt was feeling more uneasy with each mille that he rode from Tilbora.