The coach and team slowed as the teamster guided it along the curving drive through the High Holder’s private park and up the gentle rise to stop before the main entry of the old yellowish red brick chateau. While a doorman immediately stepped forward to open the coach door, Aramyn, dressed in a deep red velvet jacket and gray trousers, stood at the top of the steps waiting.
“Greetings, Governor and Lady Vaelora,” offered the High Holder. “That’s a handsome team and coach.”
“We picked them up for the governor’s residence from a widow who needed only one coach,” replied Quaeryt.
“Ah, yes, that fellow Lysienk. I heard he was riding and suffered a seizure. They say it couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow.” The irony in Aramyn’s voice was so light that it was barely discernible. “Well … that was good for you. Do come in. Everyone’s wanting to hear about how you’ve managed to restore order in the city.” There was a slight pause. “This is just a small dinner … the four of us and my nephew and his wife, who are visiting from Montagne.”
While Quaeryt was more than happy for the smallness of the gathering, he could see the slightest hint of a frown on Vaelora’s brow, gone so quickly he doubted anyone else had seen it.
“We appreciate the chance to see you again, in less urgent circumstances,” replied Quaeryt.
“There are so many things that Lady Minya and I did not have a chance to discuss,” added Vaelora.
“Good,” replied Aramyn with a warm and broad smile, turning at leading the way to the same salon where Quaeryt and Vaelora had spent the better part of an afternoon once before.
The four others in the salon rose as Quaeryt and Vaelora entered.
“You’ve already met Minya. Might I present my nephew Jaekyt and his wife Buhlyn. Governor Quaeryt and Lady Vaelora.”
“My pleasure,” offered the trim Jaekyt with polite warmth.
“I so wanted to be you,” offered Buhlyn, a tall and broad-shouldered woman with curves only slightly excessive for her frame, if accentuated by the clinging mauve velvet gown she wore. She smiled warmly at Vaelora. “I saw you and your sisters ride through Extela years ago, and you all carried yourselves so well.”
“She still does,” added Quaeryt.
“Would you like to try some of my white winter wine?” asked Aramyn. “I must say that it’s better than the un-iced wine … this year, at least.”
“Most years,” added Jaekyt.
“Please,” said Vaelora.
Quaeryt nodded.
While the group might have been small, it was obvious that he and Vaelora were more than welcome, and that the evening would be enjoyable …
… and it was, through the wine and aperitifs, the turtle soup, the braised and marinated beef with lace rice and other side courses, the lemon tarts, and the Montagne brandy that Jaekyt had brought with him. The conversation only touched the superficialities of the situation in Extela, and then moved on to other less substantive matters, such as the best wines from the hills around Extela, and the difficulty of finding good seamstresses.
Quaeryt was almost sad to go, except he was tired.
When they had left the chateau, in the darkness of the coach, he turned to Vaelora. “Did you enjoy the dinner?”
“I did indeed. The food and company were both excellent.”
“Except what?”
“Did you notice that all the guests, except for us, were from his family?”
“I did. You think that signifies we’re not in the greatest of favor among other local High Holders?”
“I do, dearest.”
“That’s doubtless because I’ve trod on the polished boots of all the others, except for Thysor.”
“He wouldn’t count. He’s so far away that he’s scarcely local. We’ll just have to see how things turn out.”
Indeed we will. Quaeryt reached out and squeezed her hand, as the coach rolled eastward, back to the villa. But he still worried.
54
Solayi was without event, and Quaeryt managed another homily, loosely based on what he and Vaelora had discussed in the carriage, rather than on what he worked on earlier, which he saved for the next time he had to give a homily. He rode to the post, cheerfully, on Lundi morning. There were no dispatches, which was likely for the best, but his cheer began to vanish when he saw Major Heireg waiting for him outside his study, a solemn expression on his face.
“What is it, Major?”
“Commander Zhrensyl … he died in his sleep last night.”
“I’m sorry.” Quaeryt nodded slowly. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Does he have any other family we should notify?” Quaeryt knew Zhrensyl was a widower, but little more.
“His son lives in Ilyum, but Hrehn says that they weren’t close.”
“Arrange for services and a pyre tonight, then, and … if you’d draft a letter for me?”
“Yes, sir.” Heireg paused. “He was a good man at heart.”
“I know.” Perhaps not as strong as he should have been, but you might have only seen him when he was failing.
Not moments after Heireg left, a fresh-faced patroller appeared, likely a recruit, since the young man wore the uniform without insignia.
“Governor, sir.”
“Yes?”
“I have an urgent message for you from the chief.” The recruit extended a sealed envelope.
“Thank you. Is he expecting a response?”
“He told me to wait to see if you had a response.”
Quaeryt frowned. “How did you get here?”
“On the patrol wagon, sir. It’s the only one left, Captain Hrehn said.”
Quaeryt nodded. Only one left? There hadn’t been any, but Pharyl was the kind who would work out how to get something his men needed. For that matter, so would Hrehn. “I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt entered the small study, closed the door, then opened the envelope.
Governor-
On Samedi evening, a patroller team consisting of two patrollers and a patroller recruit saw a fight occurring outside a cafe facing the south market square. Because passersby were endangered, they broke up the fight. Then a male companion of the man the patrollers took into custody knifed the recruit in the back and then slashed his neck. The recruit died right there.
I had planned to schedule the hearing for tomorrow, but Advocate Caesyt protested that Solayi does not count as a day of notice, and I have scheduled the hearing for Jeudi, along with several other less serious charges.
Quaeryt set down the missive. Something like this had to happen sooner or later. Then he frowned. Since when could a cafe brawler afford an advocate?
He sat down at the desk and immediately wrote his reply.
Chief Pharyl-
Thank you for the notice about the unfortunate occurrence involving a patroller recruit and the scheduling of hearings. Doubtless the advocate is well versed in the precedents, and we should use his expertise in that matter.
I would hope that the hearing would reveal all the details of the event so that justice may be done.
Quaeryt had no doubt that Pharyl would understand what he wanted. He sealed the missive, then rose and walked to the study door, opening it. The young patroller stood there waiting.
Quaeryt extended the missive. “My reply to the chief.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get it right to him.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt didn’t return to the study, but made his way to the small room where the two clerks were already at work.
“How are we coming on reconciling Baharyt’s crafter and factor list with the old tariff listings?”
“There’s good, and there’s bad, Governor.”
“Start with the bad.”
“As many as one in ten of those on the old lists aren’t in Extela anymore, not that we and the tariff collectors can find them, anyways.”