Governor Quaeryt,
As we discussed, I have delivered the additional barrels of good flour, and will fulfill the contract my father failed to meet.
I apologize for that difficulty.
Below was a signature and a seal. Quaeryt didn’t quite wince. He had as much of an apology as he would ever get. At least, there was a written acknowledgment of the former High Holder’s failure.
Quaeryt handed the note to Heireg. “You should read this.”
Heireg did, then handed it back. “Right kind of him. He didn’t mention all the bad flour and all the extra time it took us to sift it clean.”
“High Holders sometimes have a different view of things,” Quaeryt said mildly.
Heireg nodded.
Quaeryt finally got back to his study at a quint past second glass.
Vaelora returned to the post, although he didn’t realize it until she knocked on the study door several quints after third glass. At that point he put aside the ledgers and walked with her to their quarters.
“How did your day go?” he asked as he closed the door.
“Grelyana returned some of the furnishings to the villa … almost enough for us to live there.”
“Almost?”
“The master suite now has a bedstead, bedside tables, and two matching armoires … and a dressing table. They’re a little worn, but they’ll be fine with oil and polish. The main study has a desk and several chairs, as well as a table and four chairs … and there are several old-style parlor pieces that could go in either the receiving parlor or the salon. They’re in the salon at present. There’s nothing for the upstairs study, but I wouldn’t have expected that. Those pieces were likely hers. There are several worktables for the kitchen, and a small and very battered dining table and chairs for the private dining and breakfast room.”
“That’s a beginning,” he said cautiously.
“The beginning of a beginning. There are no linens, and we need a mattress for the bedstead. There are no kitchen utensils, no cutlery, no plates, no platters, no cauldrons, no pots, no table linens, no towels. We have no staff…”
“Do we have anything else at all?”
“There are platform beds in the servants’ quarters and in the stable quarters, but no mattresses.”
Quaeryt couldn’t even imagine what it was going to cost to set up even a minimal household in the villa. More to the point, at that moment, he didn’t want to.
“Some of that will not cost all that much,” added Vaelora. “It will take time, and I will need a steward or someone in that capacity.”
“Do you know where to find one that we can trust?”
“Shenna has some ideas.”
Quaeryt had no idea who Shenna was, and it must have shown on his face.
“She’s the older sister of Rhyena. Rhyena was a friend when we were both little. She-Rhyena, that is-married a High Holder somewhere near Cloisonyt. He was an older widower. Shenna hasn’t married, and she’s a governess for Aramyn’s youngest daughter. When she found out I’d come back…”
“You’re thinking of Shenna as … a female steward?”
“That would never be accepted. But she could be my private secretary and be a great help.”
“Then ask her.”
“I already have … but I’m glad you approve.”
“What else…” Quaeryt stopped. “How long will setting up the villa take?”
“Several weeks before anyone else should see it. A week before we can move in-if we can find basic staff.”
“Skarpa will agree to detailing some troopers for temporary guards. They’ll only be available for little more than a month.”
“That will help.” Vaelora smiled. “How was your day?”
“I think yours was better. What do you know about a High Holder named Cransyr?”
“Dear Cousin Cransyr? He was always a nettle to Father, but he’s tried to play up to Bhayar. Why do you ask?”
“Because his nephews and their friends tried to beat up a local factor. The patrol caught them, and one of the nephews-Versoryn-fell on the point of an iron fence. It went through his eye and killed him. We have his brother, the other nephew, locked up in the brig here. He says Bhayar will make sure all the rankers are executed. He also threatened me, but backed off that somewhat. He still believes, I think, that he can get me dismissed as governor.”
“That won’t happen. Nephews who aren’t the sons of High Holders can’t claim privilege. Even ‘nephews’ like Versoryn can’t claim it.”
“Privilege? That’s in the case of wrongful death. Being caught in committing a crime and dying in trying to escape isn’t wrongful death.” Quaeryt paused. “And what did you mean with that cynical comment about ‘nephews’ like that? That there was a much closer relationship?”
Vaelora nodded. “Their mother was Cransyr’s mistress. She died several years ago. It was quite a quiet scandal because everyone thought Cransyr’s wife had poisoned her. It happened on his lands, and he had the right to apply justice even to his wife…”
Quaeryt knew that High Holders had that right for offenses taking place on their lands.
“… but Cransyr pronounced it an accidental poisoning. He built separate quarters for his wife and hasn’t spoken to her since … or so it’s said. The boys were sent to live with the sister of the mistress here in Extela.”
“Why didn’t he find his wife guilty?”
“She was always Bhayar’s favorite cousin. I never cared for her much, but I was only ten or so when it happened.” Vaelora shook her head. “Still … it would be best to handle the boy carefully. You’d be surprised at what the High Justicer of Telaryn has found to be wrongful death, dearest, especially when well-connected High Holders and their sons are involved.”
“I don’t know that I’d find it that surprising. Depressing, but not surprising. I need to find a justicer. I could act as justicer. Scythn was his own high justicer.”
“He was?”
“That’s what several of the patrollers first said.”
“Bhayar forbid that practice except as a very temporary expedient. I know. I heard him tell Aelina that.”
That was another item that Quaeryt would need to put in the dispatch he planned to send off on Lundi. He wondered what else he’d remember to add.
37
Quaeryt had thought he might sleep late on Solayi morning, but he woke up with the first light. Because Vaelora was still sleeping, he lay there and thought about what else he needed to add to his report to Bhayar. He couldn’t help but wonder and worry about whether Kharst had attacked Ferravyl … and how soon Bhayar would need Third Regiment, especially since the Civic Patrol wasn’t ready to take over full patrolling duties in all parts of Extela.
He was still thinking about all the additions to his report when she woke.
“It would be so nice to wake up in a real bedchamber,” she said with a yawn.
“Before long…” he said quietly.
“Longer than I wish to think about, dearest. There is so much to do.”
“There’s been so much to do for both of us,” he pointed out.
“I should have gone to the market squares yesterday. Until life is better, the people should see me.”
“You can’t do everything.”
“No, but some of them have so little. At times, it bothers me that I’m concerned about furnishing and setting up a villa when even these quarters are so much better than what they have.”
The sadness and wistfulness in her voice moved Quaeryt, and he said, “You can’t stay here forever, and someone has to rebuild a place for us and for the governors to come.” After a moment he added, “It’s better to purchase an existing villa, because I’ll still need to build a place to house a justicing hall and studies and chambers for those who serve Lord Bhayar and the governor.” His eyes were drawn to her … again.
She sat up in the bed and yawned once more, before looking at him. “Stop staring,” she added, not quite sharply.
“Can’t I appreciate how my wife looks?”
“You appreciated enough last night.”