Quaeryt laughed. She was so right about that … but he still wondered about the imagers. He nodded. “Now that I’ve told you what I’ve learned, who were those around you, and what did you discover?”
“I was seated between High Holder Fhernon and a factor named Welsarius. The factor was far more interesting. He was likely almost as wealthy as many High Holders, and he wanted to know if Bhayar would be improving the roads outside of Variana, the way some of the roads to Chateau Regis had been repaved. He was very enthusiastic about that.”
“He wants to bring goods into Variana, and that’s hard. The only easy travel to the city is by the Great Canal. What about Fhernon?”
“His holding is somewhere near Tuuryl. He has a place north of town on the Aluse, but he shuttered it when Kharst became rex. He claimed that it needed repairs. That’s what he said, anyway. He let it slip, deliberately, of course, that he was one of the less endowed High Holders, and that had allowed him to avoid Rex Kharst on most occasions.”
“What do you think?”
“Cat and rodent. He has more than he admits. It was still not enough for Kharst to pursue him, and his wife is less than attractive. He pointed her out to me.”
Quaeryt shook his head and continued to listen.
22
Vaelora and Quaeryt were in Bhayar’s study by a quint past seventh glass on Jeudi morning. First, Quaeryt brought up the issue of the late High Holder Fauxyn. When he finished, he looked to Bhayar.
The Lord of Telaryn and Bovaria smiled. “I think that all these complaints about succession for High Holders should be a matter handled by the Minister of Administration and Supply for Bovaria, jointly with Vaelora. You know more about the implications and laws, Quaeryt, and you have the blood, sister dear, so that these prickly High Holders can’t complain that they’re being dismissed by a mere commander.”
Quaeryt couldn’t argue with Bhayar’s logic, and neither, he saw, could Vaelora.
“Whatever solutions you two adopt should not deviate too far from existing practices. I don’t want you disciplining High Holder after High Holder.”
“What about allowing widows to hold and administer the lands for their children?” asked Quaeryt. “If a child is a boy, until he reaches maturity. If there are only girl children, until the eldest is old enough to marry the son of another High Holder. That preserves the bloodlines, and doesn’t force quick and unsuitable alliances.”
“You might add something about the widow also being allowed to marry someone of equivalent suitable rank,” suggested Vaelora.
“What do you have in mind there, sister dear?”
“Any single or widowed officers of the rank of commander or higher in the Telaryn forces,” said Vaelora. “There won’t be many, but there might be a few younger widows or those whose heirs died in the war. It would also offer another possibility.”
“That exception will have to receive my approval on a situation by situation basis,” replied Bhayar. “What else did you want to talk over?”
“The missing Bovarian imagers,” replied Quaeryt. “Ever since the battle of Variana, and even before, I’ve wondered why we never encountered any Bovarian imagers. We’d heard that Kharst had them…” He went on to recount the conversation of the night before.
When he finished, Bhayar nodded slowly. “That makes sense, unhappily. You don’t have any idea where they might be?”
“None, but I wanted you to know that there was the chance that they might appear or cause trouble in the future.” Quaeryt paused, then asked, “You haven’t heard any rumors, have you?”
“No. Not a one, but it’s unlikely I would. What are your thoughts?”
“The Khellans won’t want them, and Bovarian imagers wouldn’t feel safe there for long, even now. Sooner or later, if they stay in Lydar, there’s a chance we’ll likely hear something.” Quaeryt shrugged. “Then again, we might not, but I don’t want you to be surprised.” Rulers don’t like surprises, especially unpleasant ones.
“What are you two doing today?”
“I’m going to survey the isle of piers with the imagers and get them started on making the place suitable for a Collegium.”
“I don’t want you there personally all the time,” said Bhayar.
“After I survey the place and have Lhandor and Baelthm draw up plans and approve them, I won’t have to be. That will likely take the next few days.” Quaeryt grinned. “It will remove an eyesore and will be another part of your efforts to improve Variana into a most excellent city.”
“Don’t push it, Quaeryt,” said Bhayar genially.
“Sir … have I ever not acted in your interests?”
“Just leave it at that.” Bhayar looked to Vaelora. “Try to keep him from acting in interests I don’t even know I have.”
“Yes, brother dearest.”
Bhayar offered a long and dramatic sigh. “Go … both of you.”
Neither Vaelora nor Quaeryt spoke until they were alone in the smallest of the studies they had taken for their ministry, the one with a desk and a conference table. Quaeryt had insisted that the desk was Vaelora’s.
Vaelora looked at her husband. “What are you going to do first today?”
“As I told your brother, start working to turn the isle of piers into the grounds for the Collegium Imago.”
“Bhayar hasn’t approved the name…”
“I’m not using it except with you and him until he does.” Quaeryt smiled. “He will.”
“So long as you keep yourself safe and don’t try something like the other day.”
“I won’t.”
Vaelora looked at him firmly.
“I promise.”
“Can you finish surveying and hand things over to the imagers?”
“I haven’t even started because we were working on the roads and the entrances to the Chateau Regis.”
“I think he’s right.”
“I’ll see what I can do today and early tomorrow.”
She nodded, then slipped her arms around him for a moment.
Even so, in less than a third of a quint, Quaeryt was mounted and riding toward the headquarters holding with half a squad, and by a quint past eight glass, Quaeryt, the imagers, and Elsior, and the duty company were at the bridge to the isle of piers.
Imagisle … in time, thought Quaeryt, you hope.
“Lhandor … a gate in your grillwork, please.”
“Yes, sir.” The Pharsi undercaptain concentrated but briefly, and a set of double gates replaced a section of the iron grillwork.
One of the duty company rankers rode forward and swung the gates wide.
“Company! Forward.”
At the end of the bridge Quaeryt called another halt and turned in the saddle. “Elsior! Forward.”
The Pharsi trainee from Liantiago rode forward. “Yes, sir?”
“See what you can do to create a causeway from the end of the bridge down to that ruin of a road.”
“Yes, sir!” Elsior straightened in the saddle and concentrated.
White mist appeared at the end of the bridge, extending perhaps five yards. When it cleared, there was a stretch of paved causeway. The young imager frowned, then wiped his brow.
“It’s harder than it looks,” observed Quaeryt mildly. “Have some lager from your bottle and a biscuit. I’ll do a little stretch and then you can try again.”
“Yes, sir.”
All in all, it took two quints to finish the fifty yards of the causeway, with Quaeryt alternating with the young trainee. When it was done, Elsior was pale and shaking, and that was fine with Quaeryt, because that kind of stressful imaging was what it took to strengthen any imager. After that, as he rode down the last section of the newly imaged causeway toward the warren of rubbish behind the ruined buildings fronting the river and the sagging piers, Quaeryt could immediately see that the destruction was far worse than he had thought. Nearly all the warehouses either were roofless or their roofs had collapsed onto empty and sagging interiors, as if most had been abandoned years before. In a few places he could see charred timbers and signs of a fire, but even the charred sections of wood had faded into a dark gray.