“Oh … she struck me as very intelligent, but much like you in that she reveals little to those she does not know-except when it suits her husband’s purposes and her wishes.”
“What does she look like?” There was the slightest edge to Vaelora’s words.
“She is blond, like many people here, somewhat stocky, and a bit shorter than you, I think. She is very much in love with her husband, it seemed, and he with her. They were most charming and hospitable … and they did reveal, if indirectly, their concerns about the scholars … once I broached the matter. I was possibly more direct than another High Holder might have been.”
“She did not flirt with you, then?”
Quaeryt detected a hint of amusement in her voice, for which he was grateful. “No, not in the slightest. She did serve a most tasty berry custard, though.”
“You do have a weakness for sweets, dearest.”
There wasn’t anything he dared to say directly in reply to that. So he didn’t. “Do you think your brother will attack Antiago this spring?”
“I doubt it. He is more likely to respond to what others do … and then turn their weaknesses against them. In that, you and he are much alike.”
“Then he anticipates an attack by Kharst. Autarch Aliaro would not be so foolish as to attack either Telaryn or Bovaria.”
“What one anticipates is not always what happens.”
“Especially since matters sometimes do not go as planned.”
“Were you thinking about Rescalyn when you said that?” she asked.
“No. I was thinking about Zorlyn and the hill holders. They assumed that matters would continue as they always had. Rescalyn let them believe that would be the way it was, even while he was planning to destroy them.”
“Why was that necessary? If he really wanted to become Lord of Telaryn, why did he bother with the hill holders?”
“I can think of several reasons.” Quaeryt served her the cheesed eggs and mutton strips, and then himself before continuing. “First, keeping the hill holders as a threat allowed him to build up the regiment to three times what it had been. Second, it allowed him to give all of the officers and rankers experience in fighting. Third, by taking over the holdings of Zorlyn and the others with silver mines, he would have obtained that silver to pay for the war against your brother. And fourth, he couldn’t afford to have a dangerous enemy behind him while setting out to fight another war. He planned on using the winter and the spring to rebuild his forces, and he would have diverted all the tariffs from Tilbor-” Quaeryt stopped abruptly.
“What is it?”
He laughed. “I just realized something. Well … I knew it … but I never put the pieces together. I read all those dispatches … years’ worth … and never did Rescalyn ever mention the silver mines of the hill holders.”
“How many golds worth of silver would they produce?”
“I’ve looked at the records for last year … well, for four out of five seasons. They don’t mine in the winter. Zorlyn’s mine produced something like two thousand golds worth last year, but it could do more. They didn’t want to flood the east with silver. That would only drive its worth down.”
“But … if Rescalyn had been successful…”
“He could have produced more and sold it or coined it and used it all over Telaryn. Zorlyn was minting coins, though. There were molds and stamps-close to identical copies of Telaryn silvers.”
“That’s counterfeiting … or is it?”
“I don’t know that it is.” Quaeryt shrugged. “He was using real silver, and now it doesn’t matter. The mines all belong to your brother.”
“I doubt he even knows it.”
With all that Bhayar held, that was likely true, but it was yet another reminder of the vast difference between the life Quaeryt had led and the one Bhayar had.
Quaeryt was still thinking about Rescalyn’s omission of the silver from the dispatches when he reached his study … and all the ledgers and records he needed to peruse … and all the time he would spend trying to persuade factors and others to do what was in their own best interests.
12
Warmer weather on Jeudi and Vendrei was followed by a blustery wind on Samedi, and a return to freezing temperatures just before sunset when the sleigh sent by High Holder Thurl arrived at the lower gates of the Telaryn Palace where Quaeryt, Vaelora, Straesyr, and Emra waited in the gatehouse. Quaeryt had barely seen the gown Vaelora was wearing because she’d shooed him away from the dressing area until she was dressed, and then had immediately donned a long fur coat he had not seen before that afternoon. He was wearing his finest browns with his formal brown coat, over which he wore a heavy winter jacket.
“Look how gloriously red the sky is to the west!” exclaimed Emra as the four left the gatehouse to walk to the sleigh.
“There was a bit of that last night,” observed Straesyr. “Just a touch.”
Quaeryt looked, turning to face into the light wind, coming out of the west. Indeed the entire western sky was red, a glorious golden red, if with an undertone of a darker red, like that of drying blood … of which he’d seen far too much in the campaign against the hill holders. The brilliance of the color almost totally obscured the crescent of Erion, whose slightly sullen reddish white seemed pale by comparison. He glanced at Vaelora, walking beside him, her coat wrapped tightly around her. Her face expressed more puzzlement than wonder, and he asked, “What is it?”
“That looks familiar. I couldn’t say why.”
“The sunset?”
“The colors.”
“Then you must have seen them somewhere…”
Vaelora nodded. “But I don’t remember.” She turned, and Quaeryt helped her into the sleigh.
As the driver eased the sleigh away from the gates and onto the packed snow and ice of the road, two squads of troopers followed them.
Quaeryt continued to study the western sky, and it seemed to him that the golden red and the darker red took longer to fade than was usual for sunsets, but colors or not, the air was chill. Although heavy fur wraps had been spread across trousers and gowns, after only a quint in the horse-drawn sleigh, Quaeryt’s legs were colder than if he’d been riding. But then, you haven’t been riding at night … or even late in the afternoon.
“Earlier this week, I wondered if we’d be using the carriage,” said Emra. “The snow was melting so fast.”
“That’s the way it is at the end of winter and the beginning of spring,” said Straesyr. “Warm, then cold, then warm. Each time the cold is usually a little less chill, the warm a trace more springlike.”
After another three quints, the sleigh swung through a pair of gilded iron gates flanked by polished marble gateposts set against graystone walls. Torches lit both the entry gates and the way up the snow-packed lane to the estate house, a structure more like a Bovarian chateau, thought Quaeryt. The sleigh stopped just short of the covered entry portico, where the four disembarked and then walked across the stone pavement that had been swept clean of snow and the ice removed, before climbing the three wide marble steps to the entry.
The outer double doors were open, although Quaeryt could see that the decorative ironwork was gilded on both sides, and a doorman opened the inner goldenwood door for them as they approached. “Governor … Lady Straesyr … most honored Lady Vaelora … Princeps.”
Quaeryt noted the difference in address between Emra, whose position was determined by that of her husband, and that offered Vaelora, who clearly outranked him.
Once inside the chateau, they stood in a hexagonal vestibule with a high vaulted ceiling. The walls above the goldenwood wainscoting were smooth plaster tinted to resemble golden-streaked marble, with deep blue velvet hangings.
“The robing room for the ladies…” murmured another functionary, gesturing to the left. “And for … you…” That gesture was to the right.
Two valets stood waiting in the narrow chamber to take Quaeryt’s and Straesyr’s outer coats. From there, Quaeryt followed Straesyr back into the main entry hall, where they waited for a good half quint for their ladies.