“I was orphaned when I was barely more than an infant and raised by the scholars of Solis. I was scholar advisor to Lord Bhayar, and then a scholar to the governor of Tilbor, and then princeps there before Lord Bhayar sent me here. After I became princeps, he insisted I marry his sister.”
Aextyl laughed. “Rather the other way round than the path taken by most ambitious young men. They usually wed the sister or daughter to obtain the position.” He studied Quaeryt again. “You look more like a ship’s officer than a scholar.”
“I spent time at sea, six years before I returned to being a scholar.”
“So … now you’re the governor. I hear that you’ve already changed things. Any change is welcome, and if it took an eruption to get it … then things might have been for the best.”
“With almost a quarter of the city destroyed?”
“Scythn was destroying it already.”
“Was that why you stepped down?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Did he threaten your family … or just suggest that their health might be better if you left the justiciary?”
“You don’t have a high opinion of the late governor, do you?”
“I don’t know that he’s dead, but no … I don’t.”
“Might I ask why, Governor?”
“I think you know. He paid himself exorbitantly, let the patrol chief reduce the number of patrollers and pocket the wages not paid. So far as I can tell, it appears as though he received more than ten thousand golds a year, and I’m not certain I’ve tracked down all that he took.”
“I’d wager he extorted even more, but what do I know? I’m just a has-been high justicer who tried to keep a certain amount of justice in the application of the law.”
“That’s why I’m here, sir.”
“I appreciate your kindness, Governor. I can’t do it. My mind and spirit are willing, but my body’s not what it used to be. Come to think of it, it wasn’t what it used to be when I stepped down, and that was close to six years ago.”
“When Scythn became governor?”
Aextyl nodded.
“Are there any other justicers or advocates here in Extela who would make acceptable justicers?”
The old justicer barked a laugh. “You might as well ask if you could find an ox here that could wield a pen.”
Quaeryt paused, then asked, “If I have to act as justicer, can I pay you to sit beside me and help with the law and the precedents … at least for a time?”
“I might consider it for a few cases. That’s if you’d read Ekyrd’s treatise on the law. That shouldn’t be a problem for a scholar.”
“Reading it wouldn’t be a problem,” Quaeryt said. “Finding a copy to read would be, since all of the governor’s square is buried in ash and lava.”
“I have a copy you can borrow. Over there, the second shelf down, on the end, the maroon binding.”
Quaeryt rose, walked to the bookcase indicated by the justicer’s bony finger, and extracted the comparatively slim volume. “This one?”
“That’s the one. Read it. If you understand it, you’ll know more law and procedures than most justicers ever do.”
Quaeryt returned to the chair and sat down, still holding the book.
“Do you know why there’s no scholars’ house here? There was one, once, you know?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
Aextyl smiled. “That book you hold is one reason. The scholars had their apprentices copy it. Some of the local merchants and small factors read it. They disputed the findings and the handling of various trials and hearings, especially those dealing with some of the larger factors, particular factors, and one High Holder who, I hear, recently got so angry he suffered a seizure. No great loss there. Governor Scythn imposed a tariff on the scholars, claiming that the copying of books made them merchants. Other harassments followed, and then the scholarium burned in a fire. The surviving scholars dispersed.”
Quaeryt winced.
“You think that is strange, Governor?”
“No. It has happened elsewhere recently. That was what bothered me.”
“Knowledge held by those without power is always regarded as a danger by those with power.”
“That is why we have laws,” suggested Quaeryt.
“Everyone knows that power without law is tyranny, but they fail to recognize that law without power is useless. The laws here had no power. You are trying to change that. I applaud your efforts, but I fear you will fail, even with your ties to Lord Bhayar.”
“We will see.” Quaeryt smiled politely. “Will you consider advising me through a few hearings after I read this treatise?”
“I will consider it. I make no promises.”
“On another subject … what do you know about a factor named Hyleor?”
“Ah … Hyleor Cylonsyn. He was a supporter of Governor Scythn. He also owned and still does, I believe, a share of at least one pleasure house, if not more. I have not had the dubious pleasure of meeting him and suspect I am the better for that.”
“Are there any other factors whose acquaintance might be, as you put it, a dubious pleasure?”
“In recent years, there have been more than a few. Aerambyr, Thaltyn … and, of course, Lysienk and Pulam.”
“Why should I look out for from them?”
“The usual … overcharges, delays in goods or substandard goods, and, occasionally, accidents to retainers or relatives. Your predecessor had a tendency to turn the other way, with his hand out, I suspect.”
Quaeryt managed not to wince a second time. “I see. What do you know about a patroller first by the name of Jaramyr?”
Aextyl shook his head.
“What do you know about a Captain Faastyl?”
“Only that you would be best not to have him in the Civic Patrol, although I have heard he has left Extela.”
“Are there any other factors or High Holders with whom I should be especially cautious?”
“High Holder Cransyr is known to be especially partisan, as is Suletar. For the factors, besides Hyleor, it might be wise to handle several others with care, Assoul and Dyetryn in particular. Factoria Grelyana can be vicious if she believes her interests are infringed, as can Lysienk.”
“Any others?”
“All of them will be your friend to your face and whatever is necessary to advance their interests when your back is turned or your eyes are elsewhere.”
Justicer Aextyl definitely had a skeptical, and probably realistic, view of people, reflected Quaeryt. “I suspect that is true of every governor.”
“Indeed.” Aextyl coughed, then lifted a large handkerchief to stifle the paroxysm that followed.
Quaeryt waited until the coughing spasms ceased before standing. “I will not take more of your time, but I do appreciate your advice and the loan of the law treatise.”
“My pleasure, Governor. I trust it will do more good in your hands than on the bookshelf here.”
Quaeryt inclined his head. “Thank you.”
Then he turned and walked to the door, opening it, and started toward the entry hall.
The narrow-faced daughter met him there. “Governor … I hope you didn’t press him. He’s not well. Being a justicer took years off his life.”
“I asked if he would sit beside me for the first few hearings and advise me. He said he would think about it-and only if I read this treatise.”
Her eyes went from the thin book Quaeryt carried to the scholar’s browns. “You’re going to read it, aren’t you?” Her tone was almost despairing.
“He made it rather clear that whether or not he decided to advise me, I needed to read it to have any chance of following the proper procedures. I’m taking his advice.”
“Would that others had, sir.” Gently as the words were spoken, bitterness suffused them.
“Sometimes, good men are treated ill by the times and their peers, but I do greatly appreciate his counsel and advice … and your courtesy in allowing me to see him.” Quaeryt inclined his head, then left.