“Yes … sir.” The round-faced master scholar sounded puzzled.
“He was hiding in the anomen and tried to attack me when I left after seeing Cyrethyn. Gauswn leapt to my defense and killed him. Because he once was a scholar, he deserves a pyre, but not a memorial.” Quaeryt fumbled in his wallet until he came up with a pair of silvers. “I would not wish the expense to fall entirely on the scholarium. Use these to replace whatever wood is necessary. And because Gauswn must attend to Cyrethyn … could you have some of the scholars remove the body?”
“Yes, sir.” After a moment, Nalakyn said, “About young Lankyt…?”
“He’ll be riding back to the palace with me. He’ll be riding out with Commander Myskyl early tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt looked hard at the master scholar. “We’ll be leaving as soon as the horses are ready.”
“I’ll have the students on discipline duty and Scholar Weisyn remove the body.”
“Thank you.”
Nalakyn almost scuttled across the covered porch and inside the building.
“It really was Alkiabys?” asked Lankyt.
“Yes.”
“I never liked him,” blurted Lankyt. “He liked to hurt students in Sansang practice. He’d say that they needed to learn what would happen when they didn’t defend themselves right. But he liked it. Scholar Chardyn was hard, but he was fair.” There was a pause. “Do you know what happened to him?”
“Let’s just say that he and Phaeryn would make certain that on the day that the visiting scholars or others said they would depart … they departed early … and left their coin for the Ecoliae. I suspect that one of those visitors took exception … perhaps many did, but one was finally able to prevail.”
Lankyt nodded slowly. “That … I can see that.”
Quaeryt bent and picked up one of the bundles. “Is this all you’re bringing?”
“I left whatever Syndar could use, sir. I’ll have more than enough at home.”
That was certainly true, reflected Quaeryt as they walked toward the stable, but Lankyt’s leaving anything that his older brother could use was still thoughtful.
“Father did tell me to ride the gelding home,” Lankyt added. “He said that, as a scholar, Syndar would have less need for him.”
A quint later, when Quaeryt, Lankyt, and the squad were a half mille away from the scholarium, Lankyt turned in the saddle, looked across the space between mounts, and said, “Master Scholar Nalakyn says that we should always tell the truth. I don’t see everything, sir, but it seems to me there are times when the truth hurts more than not saying anything.”
Quaeryt laughed ruefully. “That’s true enough. The problem is that when you start thinking like that, it becomes easy, first to say nothing, and then to lie, and then lie more, and finally to justify all the lies you’ve told. Yet … there are times, when part of the truth, so long as that part is not a lie in and of itself, is better than the whole truth … For example, if a man loses his courage in a battle and turns and flees, but is cut down from behind, there is no harm, and a grace, in telling his family that he died in battle without saying that he tried to flee. If a man has done evil while doing some otherwise good deeds and is killed in trying to do evil, it is sometimes better to say that he had good qualities and qualities that were not so good. But … if you do not tell the entire truth, you must always remember that you did not tell the entire truth, and each time you are tempted not to, you should ask whether you do so to make your path easier, or to aid others … or whether you do so for your own interests. If you find you are too often ‘helping’ others in that fashion, then you are deceiving yourself.” He shook his head. “As in everything, nothing in life is as simple as the maxims we teach. It is so easy to slip from the honorable … and yet, I have seen what many would call honorable used as a reason for cruelty and despicable behavior.” After another pause, he concluded, “And I don’t know that I’ve answered your question.”
“I think you have, sir.”
Quaeryt wasn’t so certain. It’s so easy to self-justify, and so hard to be truly honest about why you do what you do. Rescalyn certainly believed that overthrowing Bhayar would result in better rule of Telaryn … and you believed that a slightly better ruler would not justify all the upheaval and bloodshed. Who was right?
For all that he believed he had acted wisely, who was truly to say?
On the remainder of the ride back to the Telaryn Palace, Quaeryt managed not to reveal much more than he’d asked Gauswn to say, despite Lankyt’s curiosity. Once they reached the palace, he found Myskyl, who was surprisingly amenable to letting Lankyt ride with the regiment, then made arrangements for Lankyt to take a room in the west wing, and to eat as a guest in the mess. Finally, Quaeryt hurried to the main section of the palace and up to his and Vaelora’s quarters, where he found her in the study that had become hers.
She looked up from the table desk where she was writing. “Dearest … why are you here … now?”
“The scholarium sent a messenger to ask me to come see Cyrethyn-the old chorister. He’s dying and wanted to talk to me. A few things happened. You were right … sooner than you thought…” He went on to explain what happened, ending with … “and I believe Gauswn will keep the details to himself. Asking that of him … it bothers me … yet…”
“You were right to do so. The longer before anyone knows what you can do, the better.” After a moment, she added, “Grandmere said something like that.”
“Oh?” Quaeryt truly did wonder what Vaelora’s grandmother might have said.
“It’s better that others guess than know, because guessing breeds uncertainty, and uncertainty clouds action. That’s what she said.”
“There’s also another matter I had to deal with. The messenger from the scholarium was young Lankyt. You met him…”
“The young man who wants to be a holder?”
“That’s Lankyt. His father has finally agreed…” Quaeryt went on to explain, then said, “I had to persuade Myskyl to allow Lankyt to accompany First Regiment.” He smiled crookedly. “I shouldn’t have had a problem with that, not when they’d planned to overnight near Ayerne, but I do need to make certain that Straesyr understands.” He paused. “I did want to tell you what happened.” He grinned, if raggedly. “And that I did keep my promise.”
“Sometimes … a woman does know…”
“More than sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially you.”
“You’d better tend to Straesyr. You might also tell him that Lord Bhayar was most favorably disposed toward Holder Rhodyn.”
“I will.” He glanced at the papers on the desk. “More of your writing on governing and people?”
“Yes … I was thinking…” She smiled. “Let me finish. You can read it when I’ve thought it out. You should do what you must as princeps.”
“You sound like Straesyr … as though we won’t be here that much longer.”
“I fear he may be right. I cannot say why.” Her eyes flicked in the direction of the center of the palace.
“You cannot … or you’d rather not?”
“I cannot … it is just a feeling.”
“Farsight?”
She shook her head. “Just a feeling. Go see Straesyr.”
Quaeryt doubted that what she sensed was just a feeling, but he only said, “I will see you later.” Then he stepped forward, bent down, and kissed her cheek, before straightening and leaving.
10
On Vendrei morning, Quaeryt was up earlier than usual to see Lankyt and First Regiment off, as was Straesyr, if more than thirty yards from where Quaeryt stood, barely after dawn under high clouds and with a northwest wind that suggested the spring thaw was not quite so imminent. Quaeryt also gave a letter of Vaelora’s-addressed to Aelina-to the regular courier, along with the extra silver for carrying a private message. After returning for a hurried breakfast with Vaelora, he made his way to his study.