“They took my wallet. They took it … I heard the roar and the rumble, sir. Someone yelled that more ash was coming, and I peered out the door. It was like those two were waiting…”
“They probably were,” said Quaeryt.
The woman looked at Quaeryt. Her eyes went to Shaupyr, who rode up and extended the pouch.
“Here’s your wallet. I don’t know if we found all the coins…”
“I had almost a silver’s worth of coppers…” wailed the woman.
Quaeryt slipped a silver from his wallet and leaned down from the saddle to extend it. “This should make up the difference.”
The woman started to grab for the coin, then restrained herself. “You’re not a trooper. Not dressed like a scholar.”
“No, I’m not, but the silver is yours.”
“That’s Governor Quaeryt,” said the squad leader.
“But … he was the one … he stopped … both of them…”
“The governor is good with the staff,” added Shaupyr. “He was riding patrol with us.”
The woman turned back to face Quaeryt, and her eyes widened. “The Nameless bless you, sir.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will, sir.” The woman darted back inside the narrow door.
Quaeryt heard the sound of a door bar dropping into place.
“What do you want us to do with this pair, sir?” asked the squad leader. “Take them to the south square?”
Quaeryt frowned. “No … take them to the patrol station. They can work off their crime rebuilding it, or the bridge, or whatever else the engineers need strong backs for.”
One of the brigands stiffened, but said nothing.
Quaeryt belatedly realized that he’d never questioned the man who’d tried to attack the wagon on the day they had provided free bread and potatoes. How could you forget? Because you’re short of time … like everything else.
He reminded himself to take care of that.
Within a glass, the ash plume from Mount Extel had dwindled away to nothing, and the rest of the afternoon patrol was without event.
After he rode back through the post gates late that afternoon and finished stabling the mare, little more than a glass before the evening meal, he immediately headed for the quartermaster’s study. Heireg was there.
“Did we get any supplies today?”
“Yes, sir. High Holder Chaffetz sent another hundred barrels of flour. His man asked that he not be required to send any more until we return the barrels from the first hundred.”
“That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. High Holder Aramyn sent fifty barrels more, and a hundred bushels of potatoes. Lady Vaelora was pleased with that because they sold all fifty bushels of potatoes they took to the market squares. And High Holder Wystgahl sent fifty barrels.” The major frowned.
“What is it?”
“Can’t say as I like the looks of the barrels Wystgahl sent. His man wouldn’t say much.”
“You think we should look into those barrels?”
“I told the cooks to use one of them tomorrow night, just so we could see.”
“Good. How much flour did they sell at the market squares? Do you know?”
“They took five barrels and came back empty. Jhalyt and I put the coppers in our strong room here. We took in 379 coppers for the flour and 120 for the potatoes. I got a chit from the chief clerk, and he entered the amounts in the ledger.”
Quaeryt smiled. Vaelora or the rankers had been generous in what they’d doled out, but for the time being that was fine. “You seem to be working well with Jhalyt.”
“I knew him slightly before. He was the one the princeps sent to check our accounts. Seemed to be a good man.”
Quaeryt nodded. Jhalyt hadn’t mentioned that to him.
When he left Heireg, he went to find the cell where the wounded captive was incarcerated, but had to return to have the duty squad leader provide a key and a pair of rankers. He also learned that the man’s name-the one he gave, in any case-was Dhousyt Sleksyn.
Quaeryt didn’t bother to take the fellow elsewhere, but just stepped into the small cell, if with his shields up.
“Took your time, Governor.”
“That likely didn’t hurt you. Your friends just might have forgotten as well. Who set up the attack on the wagon?”
“What’s it to you?”
“That’s not the question. The question is whether you want to end up in the river or being released quietly one of these nights.” Quaeryt projected both authority and contempt, followed by indifference. Using image-projection on a man like Dhousyt didn’t bother him, and it was far easier on both him and Dhousyt than any other technique available.
Dhousyt swallowed. “Bennar did. Bennar Fhandsyn.”
“Was it his idea?”
“Bennar never had no ideas in his life.”
“Then who did?”
“The swell who owns the pleasure house. Don’t know his name. Bennar just calls him the spicer. You don’t want to cross him. Just as soon carve his initials on you or your mother or sister. Did that once to Nordon’s little sister … before Nordon disappeared. Heard it happened to others. Anyway, Bennar gave us each a silver. Told us we’d end up sow food ifn we didn’t.”
Quaeryt spend another quint with Dhousyt, but it was clear the man knew little more. It was also clear that the spicer, whoever he was, was truly despicable. When Quaeryt returned to the duty desk, he made arrangements for Dhousyt to be released after dark. He supposed he could have had him branded or the equivalent, but he’d held the tough longer than he should have.
He was ready to leave the duty chamber when a thought struck him. “Have there been any messages for me, Squad Leader?”
“No, sir. We haven’t received any dispatches or messages today, sir. We usually don’t get the report from Solis until Mardi afternoon, sir.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt offered a pleasant smile and left the chamber, making his way across the courtyard to the officers’ quarters, where he climbed the steps to the second level. Vaelora was waiting by the balcony railing outside their quarters.
“How did your day go?” she asked.
“I discovered large problems, and solved one small one…” He went on to explain about his forgetting about Dhousyt and the overall patroller problem. “They’ll need someone to whip them into shape. It’s not something that I’ll have time to do. That was one reason why I forgot about Dhousyt.”
“Major Meinyt would be good at shaping up those patrollers,” Vaelora offered. “So would some of the other older captains.”
“The ones who came up through the ranks.” Quaeryt paused. “I’ll have to talk to Skarpa about that.” From there he recounted the remainder of his day before asking, “And you?”
“Fewer earth-shaking problems than yours,” she said with a smile. “It was sad to see how many women had so few coppers.”
“I talked to Heireg. I got the feeling you were generous in measuring the flour.” He paused. “How many did you pay for?”
“I paid half the cost for more than twenty women. It could have been thirty.”
“More likely, it was closer to forty.”
“Some of them have so little.” Vaelora looked at him. “I remembered what Father told me about helping people. You don’t give them all of anything. They have to make an effort.”
“Otherwise … they come to expect charity too much.”
She nodded. “But it’s still sad.”
“Were there many who looked not to be too deprived?”
“Most of those who came had the coin for what they needed, and some said that they felt safer with all the troopers around.”
“That was part of the reason for sending so many. Do you think Extela looks better than when we first arrived?”
“Yes. Paying coppers to some of the women to sweep up the ash has helped, too.” Vaelora offered a faint smile. “We should wash up for dinner.”
Quaeryt leaned toward her and brushed her cheek with his lips. “We should indeed.”