“How many, pray tell?”
“Something like a half score are hale and well … of those we have visited,” replied Quaeryt. That was likely technically a slight exaggeration, because they had not visited some High Holders whose reputations had seemed adequate. “And only those High Holders in Antiago, Shahibs they call themselves, who fought and died in battle were removed, only to be replaced by their heirs. So far, anyway. But Quaeryt doubted that Skarpa would remove anyone without extreme cause.
Lenglan frowned. “Antiago? What might Antiago have to do…”
“Our pardon,” said Vaelora quickly, before Quaeryt could reply. “You have not heard? Antiago is now under the rule of Lord Bhayar. The commander and Submarshal Skarpa destroyed the Autarch and his forces. The commander and I are returning to Variana to provide details to my brother.”
Lenglan looked hard at Quaeryt. “Might you be the commander said to have destroyed the forces of Rex Kharst?”
“He is,” replied Vaelora. “Twice. At Ferravyl and at Variana.”
“And you are here talking to me … a small High Holder along a modest river in the hinterlands of Bovaria?”
“It is the quickest way back to Variana. It has also allowed us to repair bridges and roads as part of an effort to restore the roads of Bovaria. My imagers do not just destroy. They also build.”
For a long moment the young High Holder sat immobile. Finally, he said, “I must thank you for your forbearance.” A rueful smile crossed his face, one that Quaeryt trusted not at all. “What else might you require of me, other than pledging allegiance … and respectable conduct.”
“In time, if you have not done so already, Lord Bhayar will require a onetime token tariff of one hundred golds for this year. He knows you or your sire already paid the annual tariff, but he is incurring significant costs in his efforts to rebuild Bovaria and deal with many aspects of the land that have been neglected.”
“I will pay you now…”
Quaeryt shook his head. “You will discover who to pay and when. We thought you should know.” He glanced to Vaelora.
She gave the briefest and smallest of nods.
Quaeryt rose, extending a hand to Vaelora.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Lenglan of Norwal,” she said. “I trust we will hear nothing but good of you in the months and years to come.”
Lenglan rose quickly. “I will do my best to meet those expectations. Let me see you off properly.” He turned and moved toward the grand entryway.
As they followed him, Quaeryt eased forward and said in a low voice to the young holder, “There is one other thing. I think Lord Bhayar would be very disappointed if any more young women disappeared from the streets of Semlem. I know Lady Vaelora and I would be, and I’d very much not wish to make a special trip here to deal with the situation. I’ll also be letting it be known that such is our feeling to those in certain positions in town.” Quaeryt smiled as warmly as he could. “I just thought you’d appreciate knowing that.”
Lenglan flushed slightly and looked at Quaeryt as if to say something.
Quaeryt projected power and certainty.
The young High Holder paled, but said in a low voice, “I do appreciate your kindness in letting me know quietly. There will be no more instances of such, overexaggerated as such reports doubtless were.”
“I’m glad to hear that such rumors were exaggerations, but I did wish you to know, as we have informed other High Holders that Lord Bhayar expects a far higher standard of conduct and behavior from all his High Holders, both here, in Antiago, and in Telaryn. He crushed those in Tilbor and those in southern Bovaria who failed to understand that.”
“Why do you tell me this, then?”
“He also believes in giving High Holders an opportunity to show their allegiance and worthiness.” After a moment Quaeryt added, “Once.”
Lenglan nodded. “I believe I understand.”
“I believe you do.”
The young holder, clearly uneasy, stepped aside, but walked beside Quaeryt and Vaelora to the portico steps, then watched as they mounted and rode back down the wide stone-paved drive.
Once they were on the river road back to Semlem, the sun hanging just over the trees on the west side of the Phraan River, Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “What do you think?”
“He’s a spoiled brat, but he’s a very intelligent spoiled brat. You won’t have changed the way he feels, but there won’t be any trouble with his tariffs or with the local women.”
“He’ll seek out women elsewhere?”
“I think not. I suspect he’ll have an inordinate amount of serving maids who are paid rather better than the local wages. Some may leave his service, but they will leave alive and in health. He likes being High Holder far more than he likes any other personal pleasure, and you frightened him to his core.”
“But…?”
“It might not hurt to send him a missive every so often, inquiring about his health.”
Quaeryt nodded, knowing that his problems in dealing with High Holders and others of position were only beginning … especially if he continued to be successful. He reminded himself that he needed to write a short missive to High Holder Patarak, regretting that the nature of their travel to Variana made a visit impossible, but trusting that Patarak’s allegiance to Lord Bhayar remained firm.
14
Interestingly enough, but not completely surprising to Quaeryt, was the condition of the road heading north out of Semlem. While still of clay, the surface was packed and smooth, as well as wide enough that the actual surface used by riders and wagons stretched from one original shoulder to the other, all signs that the metals mined east of the mining town continued to be valued and that they traveled north-most likely to the Great Canal and then eastward to Variana.
He was also pleased that he and Vaelora had received a nearly immediate, if brief, but pleasant reply to their missive to Patarak. The older High Holder had written that he appreciated their courtesy and their interest in High Holders, even in less frequented parts of Bovaria, and that he looked forward to the return of order across Bovaria and that the presence of Lord Bhayar’s sister boded well for all those with that hope.
“I don’t think he was too pleased with Kharst,” Quaeryt had observed. “Or he wants us to think he wasn’t.”
“That could be, but the innkeeper did say that he’d been very quiet for the last few years. His riding accident might have provided an excuse not to travel to Variana or to see Kharst.”
“That’s possible.” But anything’s possible the way Kharst ruled.
Quaeryt had thought over the missive more than once as they had ridden northward over the next four days, especially after visiting, if briefly, two other High Holders who had been all too eager to profess their allegiance to Bhayar. But then, the nearer they came to the Great Canal and Variana, the more likely it was that information about Bhayar’s victories had reached the various high holdings.
Although it was not yet midspring, by midday on Vendrei Quaeryt had long since shed his uniform riding jacket. He was also looking impatiently at the scattered cots and holdings, thinking that there should be signs that they were approaching Eluthyn. His impatience might have been partly because, in covering the last hundred milles, they had accomplished more road and bridge repairs, but mainly to strengthen existing bridges and causeways, since the road north of Semlem remained wide and in far better repair than the roads north of Daaren.
Roughly a glass before, they had seen a stone indicating that they had ten milles to go, yet Quaeryt saw no sign of the canal town or the canal.
“You’re getting impatient, aren’t you?” observed Vaelora.