“I was thinking about that, and a bit more.”
“You usually are, dearest. You can tell me later.”
Quaeryt was glad for the softening in her voice, but still worried about her reactions to Bhayar’s ordering her to Solis.
The raised stone road ran along what was effectively a levee from the west bridge over the Telexan River for almost a mille, so that on the north side of the road were marshes, and on the left was the River Aluse. Then the road passed through a cut in a low bluff and entered the town. Above the roofs of Tresrives hung a grayish haze, but Quaeryt couldn’t determine what had caused it because the weather was warm and he knew that there were no metalworks near the town. Nor could he think of any other cause.
The other aspect of the town that struck him immediately, despite the fact that the day had been sunny and the sun had not yet quite touched the western horizon, was that Tresrives itself looked gray, even though the wooden dwellings and buildings were more like faded brown.
As they neared the river piers, Quaeryt could see that Taenyd had been right. In fact, the captain had been generous in his description of the “staging barracks.” A low stone wall, barely chest-high, separated the west end of the dockyards that serviced the river piers from a rough brick-paved space between the wall and the stables. West of the stables were three long two-story buildings whose brick walls carried the soot of years. Farther west was a smaller building, the officers’ quarters, Quaeryt presumed, and beyond that structure some twenty yards was a low building that might contain the troopers’ mess.
A ranker rode toward Quaeryt and Vaelora, reining in his mount. “Governor, sir, Lady Vaelora, Commander Skarpa would like to invite you to join him, in order to make quarters assignments.”
“Thank you,” replied Quaeryt, before turning to Taenyd. “And thank you, Captain. If you will excuse us.”
Taenyd nodded. “It has been my pleasure.”
Skarpa had reined up opposite the building that Quaeryt thought contained the officers’ quarters. He turned his mount slightly to face Quaeryt and Vaelora when they joined him so that he didn’t have to turn in the saddle. “The officers’ quarters aren’t much, sir and Lady,” said Skarpa. “There are two larger rooms for commanders, and I thought you should choose the one that suits you best. The officers’ quarters are in the building between the last barracks and the mess building by the wall, and the commander’s rooms are on the river end.”
“You’re most kind, Commander,” said Vaelora. “I do appreciate that.”
“And all the officers would appreciate your joining us for the evening meal.”
“We would be pleased.” Vaelora smiled pleasantly.
A ranker followed them as they rode toward the quarters building, in order to take their mounts back to the stables, so that they would not have to carry their gear past the three barracks buildings.
“We’ve slept in worse,” murmured Vaelora. “Too many times.”
“And just as you begin to get things the way you want them…” Quaeryt let his words hang.
“Exactly, dearest.”
Quaeryt couldn’t blame her, even if he didn’t know what else he could have done in Extela. Or what else you could have done and lived with yourself.
One thing he did know. He wasn’t the kind of man who was comfortable in using the law to justify doing nothing when people were being hurt or killed. But … that might just mean you’re the wrong kind of man to be governor for any length of time.
59
On Lundi morning, Vaelora sat up in the bed barely big enough for the two of them and yawned, then looked at Quaeryt. “I am not staying in these quarters for two days. Or even close around them.”
Given how lovely she looked, Quaeryt tore his eyes away from her before he said something that was inappropriate and looked toward the shuttered window. “What do you have in mind? Tresrives is not exactly Extela or Solis, and we can’t use the horses.”
“I wouldn’t mind walking. Anything but sitting around here.”
“We can do that, I’m certain.” Quaeryt rose and strode to the window, adding, “If it’s not raining.” He eased open the inside shutter slightly and discovered that it sagged so much he feared it would rip out of the casement. Then he peered through the hazy glass. “It’s not even cloudy.” He gently lifted the shutter back in place.
“It wouldn’t matter if it were.”
Quaeryt nodded sympathetically.
“You’re being condescending…”
“Yes, dear.” He ducked and caught the pillow flung in his direction, hiding a smile.
“You can be most difficult, dearest.”
“You knew that before you married me.”
“I didn’t marry you. Bhayar did, and I had no choice in the matter.”
Quaeryt grinned and tossed the pillow back in her direction. “You weren’t complaining last night. Not at all.”
“You’re not just difficult. You’re impossible.”
But she was smiling.
After he dressed, while Vaelora finished readying herself, Quaeryt sought out Skarpa. He found the commander in a small conference room adjoining the mess, by himself, looking over maps with a set of calipers in his hand.
Skarpa looked up. “Yes, sir?”
“Any word about anything?” asked Quaeryt.
“Only a dispatch from Submarshal Myskyl stating that our presence is needed and requesting that Third Regiment take no more than two days rest in Tresrives before setting out for Ferravyl.”
“He’s a submarshal now?”
“That’s what the dispatch says, sir, and who am I to argue?”
“Neither one of us is in a position to argue at the moment,” replied Quaeryt warmly. “And since I’m no longer governor, and since I never was comfortable with you calling me ‘sir,’ please don’t argue with me when I tell you to stop it.”
“I could say, ‘Yes, sir,’” replied Skarpa, returning the smile, “but I won’t.” After a pause, he went on. “I know you haven’t received any dispatches, but do you have any idea what Lord Bhayar has in mind for you? After you get to Ferravyl?”
“Besides report? No. The last time I saw him, he was talking about what I needed to learn as princeps of Tilbor. He wrote a letter or two to Vaelora while we were still in Tilbora, but none of that mentioned me, except in passing. I haven’t heard anything since the dispatch I showed you.” Quaeryt shrugged.
“I was just curious.”
“As for today, I’d thought that we might ride around Tresrives, except I realized that wouldn’t rest the horses. So we’ll walk.”
“You can see it easily-the parts that you and the lady would like to see. Take the main avenue behind the middle of the piers.” Skarpa snorted. “There’s little enough here these days, except a lot of empty dwellings and buildings. I’m not sure there’s been that much for years, not since Bhayar’s family unified Telaryn.”
“That should make a comfortable walk.”
“I’ll send some rankers as an escort.” Before Quaeryt could protest, Skarpa went on. “You may not be governor any longer, but your wife remains the Lady Vaelora, and she’s Lord Bhayar’s sister. I’m not about to risk my neck by not protecting her.”
“I won’t argue that.”
“Good.”
“How long will it take to reach Ferravyl?”
“With good weather, at least a week. If it rains … who knows?” Skarpa looked at the maps again. “Planning where to stop gets tricky because we’re going in high water time and there are so many swamps and marshes along the river road-for the first hundred milles or so. After that, past the Great Bend, it’s just flat.”
“That should make traveling quicker, then.”
“If…”
“It doesn’t rain,” finished Quaeryt, smiling.
“I’ll have the rankers waiting outside the mess.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt stepped out of the chamber and went to rejoin Vaelora.