Once there, he settled behind his desk to sort through the various messages and missives that Vhorym had placed there.
He’d only been at that for less than a quint when the governor walked in.
“Good morning, Quaeryt. I saw that you were up early to see the regiment and your charge off this morning.”
Quaeryt stood. Although Straesyr wouldn’t have made a point of it, Quaeryt would have felt uncomfortable sitting while his superior was standing. “I was, sir.”
“Let us just hope they can get to Ayerne before the weather changes one way or another.”
“Today looks promising.”
“It does, so far. I wanted you to know that I changed the weekly report. In addition to informing Lord Bhayar that First Regiment is on its way, I also told him that we were working to dispatch Third Regiment as soon as we could. I didn’t tell him when that would be.”
“You’re worried about supplies-or the weather?”
“More about the weather. We could get a sudden thaw that turns the roads immediately south of Bhorael into impassable swamps. We could also get a storm so severe that sending men and mounts into it would be a death sentence.”
“I’d bet more on the swamps,” said Quaeryt.
“So would I, but you never can tell. Let me know if there’s any change in when Raurem will deliver the grain cakes.” Straesyr paused. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“I haven’t heard any more about Chorister Cyrethyn, but he won’t last much longer, and it’s a good thing you and Commander Myskyl let Gauswn leave service early. He’s already another presence to keep the scholars in line, not that Nalakyn wants to do anything but be a scholar and teach others.”
“That’s always good.” The governor nodded. “We’ll talk later.”
Quaeryt nodded. Straesyr often used that phrase to indicate he had nothing more to discuss, rather than signifying something else to deal with later.
After Straesyr left, Vhorym brought in another missive, this one from a wool factor in Midcote. From the date, the petition to reduce the factor’s tariffs had taken more than a month to reach Tilbora, not surprisingly. Quaeryt set that aside for the moment, although he knew he’d deal with it before the morning was over.
Addressing all the items awaiting him occupied him into the early afternoon, and he was far from finished when Vhorym announced, “Chorister Phargos.”
“Have him come in.”
The regimental chorister walked into the study. Quaeryt gestured to the chairs, and Phargos seated himself before speaking, this time in Bovarian, a tongue in which he was fluent, but usually only employed for conducting services. “I thought that you should know. Cyrethyn died late last night. Gauswn sent me a message this morning. He wrote that you visited him yesterday.”
“I did. Gauswn thought I should. I’m sorry to hear of his death. He tried to do his best, and that could not have been easy under the shadows of Zarxes and Phaeryn.”
“Gauswn also wrote that he is more convinced than ever that the Nameless has chosen you for great deeds.”
Quaeryt winced.
“You know,” said the regimental chorister with a laugh, “that’s as good an indication as any.”
“What is?”
“Your reaction. But … do you want to tell me why he feels that way?”
“He feels that I’ve escaped too many situations that should have killed me for them all to be a result of mere good fortune. I’ve tried to persuade him otherwise. I obviously haven’t been successful.” With the last sentence, Quaeryt’s tone turned wry.
“Commander Skarpa doesn’t think so either. He also told me something interesting. He said that you told him he would be a regimental commander-long before the fight against the hill holders.”
“I did. It seemed obvious to me that it would happen sooner or later.”
“I’ve observed that more than a few things that seem obvious to you, master princeps, do not seem obvious to others, and yet they occur.”
Quaeryt shrugged as if helplessly. “I cannot change what is.”
“I suspect you have already changed what might have been.”
“In some few things, such as re-forming the scholarium, improving its acceptance and gaining it more students, or getting Gauswn released from duty early to become a chorister, I have been of some help.”
“In a few other tasks as well. Major Meinyt owes his life to you, as do a score or more rankers. Your presence here also brought Lord Bhayar to Tilbor, and that quieted many who wondered about his dedication to its people, as did your marriage.”
“Vaelora did that, not me,” protested Quaeryt.
“Your lady would not have wed anyone without outstanding qualities, master princeps. Nor would her brother have let her. That, we both know.” When Quaeryt offered a dubious expression, Phargos added, “Tell me that is not so … if you dare to do so honestly.”
Quaeryt laughed. “She does know her own mind.”
“As do you, my friend. Now … about that homily…”
“What homily?”
“The only one I’ll ever insist on your giving here. I want a promise that before you leave, whenever that may be, you will deliver the homily at services in the anomen. Everyone has heard you deliver a homily … except me.”
“Just one … one time?” asked Quaeryt warily.
“One … once.”
“For you … I will. But just once. I’m not a chorister.”
“But you could have been … and an excellent one.”
Not when I don’t even know if there is a Nameless, I couldn’t. But Quaeryt only shook his head.
Phargos laughed. “We will see.” He stood. “I did want you to know about Cyrethyn.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt rose as well. “He was a good man in a difficult position, who feared he had not done as well as he should have. That is something all of us should keep in mind.”
“I might point out that any chorister would be happy to have uttered the words you just did.”
“Go back to your anomen…” But Quaeryt couldn’t help grinning.
“For now, most honored master princeps. For now.” Phargos was smiling broadly as he left the study.
11
Samedi and Solayi passed without incident. The weather remained unchanging-cold under high clouds. Lundi brought snow flurries that briefly changed to rain, and then to ice that coated the snow and pavements that night, all of which melted by Mardi afternoon, just in time for another light snow. When Quaeryt and Vaelora rose on Meredi, the day was cold, but clear.
As he walked with Vaelora to the dining chamber for breakfast, he hoped that all was well with Lankyt and First Regiment, although it was likely they wouldn’t reach Ayerne until that evening.
After they seated themselves, and he poured tea into their mugs, Vaelora took a slow swallow and then set her mug down. “Quaeryt dearest … we are attending this ball held by High Holder Thurl. Can you tell me anything about those who will be there? Besides Straesyr and Emra, of course.”
“Except in terms of their names and positions, I know little. I have met only two of them, and only one of their wives. I had a midday meal with Governor Rescalyn at the estate of High Holder Freunyt, and a visit by myself with High Holder Fhaedyrk and his wife. Freunyt has a large holding outside of Tilbora, not so near as that of Thurl. He is intelligent and most well off…” After describing Freunyt, he recounted what he could remember of the holding, which wasn’t that much. “As for High Holder Fhaedyrk … he is younger, and his holding is a ride of some four glasses to the north. In this weather…” He shrugged.
“Tell me anyway … and what you recall of his wife.”
“I asked to visit Fhaedyrk because he was the target of several assassination attempts by Zarxes…” He went on to explain the background and the events of the visit, and the fact that Fhaedyrk’s holding brewed excellent lager.
“I don’t believe you mentioned his wife, dearest.”