“How did it go?” asked Quaeryt.
Lhandor and Khalis exchanged glances. Horan shook his head ruefully.
Finally, Calkoran spoke. “The hold has large iron gates. There is a wall all around the house and the other buildings. The guards at the gate refused to speak to me. So Landor removed the gates. Then some crossbowmen fired at us. Horan shielded us. Khalis imaged away their crossbows. I said that they should convey your invitation to the High Holder. Someone rang a bell. Before long two squads came charging at us. The undercaptains imaged pepper and smoke into their ranks. That stopped most of them. The head of the guards threatened us. He used vile language. So I called on Baelthm. He put out both his eyes with silver daggers. I told him we were doing our best to convey a polite invitation. He wasn’t listening. His squad leader was. I told him that we really didn’t want to kill them all, but that they weren’t leaving us much choice.” Calkoran shook his head.
“And?”
“He laughed,” said Calkoran. “So I called on Khalis. He removed his neck and let his head fall on the ground. He stopped laughing. So did the others. The crossbowmen ran, and the riders rode away. The guards said they would convey your message.”
Quaeryt nodded slowly. “It appears as though I’ll need you all when we call again on the good High Holder.”
“It would be our pleasure again,” insisted Calkoran.
“We’ll leave in a quint.”
When Quaeryt returned to the chamber, Vaelora immediately asked, “Well? Was he receptive?”
“Not in the slightest.” Quaeryt conveyed what had occurred.
“You’re not going to level the place?”
“Not yet. I’ll give the High Holder a last chance. Some of them do learn.” Besides … we don’t want to get in the habit of leveling every hold for reactions based on what they did in the past. We’d have to level too many of them.
* * *
Two quints later, Quaeryt, Vaelora, Calkoran, and the undercaptains rode up to the stone wall and the gate pillars that marked the entry to Norwal.
Four mounted guards with sheathed blades were stationed inside the walls.
While Quaeryt was ready to order the imagers to destroy a good section of the holding walls if there happened to be the slightest sign of resistance, the lead guard immediately called out, “High Holder Lenglan bids you welcome to Norwal.”
Then the four guards turned and rode slowly up the gray-stone-paved lane that led to the long two-story dwelling situated on the top of a rise overlooking the Phraan River to the west. The entry portico was on the east side.
“Subcommander,” said Quaeryt, “if you and the undercaptains will follow and remain in position near the hold house. Undercaptains, you’re to provide shields if there is any indication of trouble. If we do not return, although I do not expect that, you are to reduce the entire holding to rubble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Two footmen stood at the top of the steps leading up to the portico. When Quaeryt and Vaelora reined up, one announced, “Holder Lenglan awaits you.”
Quaeryt dismounted and held out the hand, his good one, that Vaelora did not need as she followed. They walked up onto the portico. Standing at the far side, just outside the open double doors to the hold, was Lenglan, a man of moderate height, with comparatively short brown hair, brownish hazel eyes. He wore a rich brown jacket over an ivory shirt, with trousers that matched his jacket, and well-polished brown boots. His welcoming smile included his eyes. The smile alone made Quaeryt exceedingly wary.
“The lady and the commander,” offered Lenglan in a warm and welcoming tone, after a bow. “I presume, Lady, that you must be a relation to Lord Bhayar, his sister, perhaps, since it is known that his wife remains as regent of Telaryn.”
That suggested to Quaeryt that Lenglan’s sire, and perhaps Lenglan himself, had indeed possessed a close tie to the late Rex Kharst.
“His youngest sister,” returned Vaelora.
“And returning from Khel as his envoy to the High Council,” added Quaeryt.
“Ah hah … most interesting, and I would love to hear more. If you would join me in the salon. I would wish to provide my own lady, but I cannot, for I have not yet wed. I saw little purpose in that while my father was yet a strong and vigorous man.” He gestured toward the doors, then turned to lead them inside.
Quaeryt made certain his shields covered Vaelora, then nodded to her. They followed, matching Lenglan’s measured pace. Inside the doors was a large, but not overlarge, circular receiving hall with a lightly domed ceiling finished in smooth white plaster. The lower walls, up to the simple goldenwood crown molding that separated them from the ceiling, were covered in pale goldenwood paneling set off by goldenwood faux columns. The floor was composed of alternating squares of polished white and gray marble. There was a small closed door on each side of the hall and a large archway at the end of the hall. Beyond the arch was a long corridor that appeared to stretch the length of the house in each direction, and directly opposite the archway was another set of open double doors, leading into a long and narrow room with wide windows at the end, clearly overlooking a formal garden, with a less formal garden set out on the slope leading down to the river and an elaborate boathouse flanked by two piers.
In the space short of the windows, the young holder, certainly not any older than Vaelora, stopped and turned. “Whatever seating arrangements you prefer.”
“Why don’t you sit there,” suggested Quaeryt, pointing to the chair at a right angle to the gray velvet couch.
Lenglan stood by the chair, but did not seat himself until Vaelora settled into the far end of the couch. Quaeryt took the other chair, the one facing the holder, then removed his visor cap and set it on the low corner table.
Neither Lenglan’s eyes nor his expression changed as he looked at Quaeryt, although there was the faintest hint of a nod.
“I would offer refreshments, and will if you wish, but I doubt that such was the primary purpose of your call. Might I ask the purpose of your visit?”
“My brother has suggested that, in the course of our travels, we visit the more notable High Holders as we can,” said Vaelora. “We were fortunate enough to arrive in Semlem early enough to see you.”
“Notable? I fear not. What have I done, save inherit the holding?”
“The holding is considered to be quite notable, according to those up and down this part of the Phraan River,” said Quaeryt mildly. “You have silver mines, and it would appear that you also quarry stone.”
“The copper mines produce more, but there are costs that are not inconsiderable.”
“You reduce the ore and ship it north, but refine the silver here?”
“That is so.”
“What do you do with the flatboats once they return here?” asked Vaelora.
Lenglan smiled. “We sell them to High Holder Nephyl at a slight profit.”
“And he uses them to ship his bricks farther downriver.”
“I presume so.”
“Most efficient,” said Quaeryt, “in addition to being notable.”
“Notable … a rather interesting word.”
“Apparently, your sire had quite a reputation.”
“Am I to be judged for what he did? Are the acts of the father the acts of the son?”
“Not unless the son does as his sire did,” replied Quaeryt. “Your father paid for his close support of a reckless and poor ruler. You will not be held responsible for his support … so long as you pledge allegiance to Lord Bhayar, who has already proven both more successful and responsible … and so long as your conduct meets the standards that he has set for High Holders. At present, there is no evidence that you have failed in either allegiance or in conduct. Lord Bhayar would prefer that you do not fail.”
“Oh? How sure of that can one be?”
Vaelora smiled, then said sweetly, “It is so tiresome to remove High Holders and replace them. The commander has removed five since the beginning of the year, and destroyed their holds, but allowed one heir to retain the lands and rebuild. He has also found a number of other holders well suited to retaining their lands.”