“The same to you.”
The blond woman seated in one of the chairs at the side of the chamber rose immediately as Quaeryt entered. A momentary frown passed across her brow and then vanished.
“Good afternoon, Lady.” Quaeryt stopped a yard or so from the woman and studied her.
She was tall, if not quite so tall as Vaelora, and fair-skinned, with penetrating gray eyes, although those eyes had dark circles under them. Quaeryt judged her to be roughly his age. She wore a tailored black skirt, a dark silver-gray blouse, and a black jacket that matched the ankle-length skirt that showed polished riding boots. Her hair was drawn back from her face.
“You’re not Lord Bhayar. Who are you?”
“I’m Commander Quaeryt. He asked me to meet with you. You are?”
“What can you do about High Holder inheritances?” Her tone was somewhere between angry and resigned.
Quaeryt also detected a strong accent in her Bovarian that he could not immediately place. He replied in Tellan. “I can see that whatever your difficulty may be is either addressed or not.”
“Or not?”
Quaeryt smiled and waited.
“Oh … I’m sorry. I’m Tyrena D’Ryel. At least for the moment.” Her Tellan-and her name-suggested several things.
“You are the widow of High Holder Ryel, the late minister of waterways and the reputed spymaster of Rex Kharst?”
“Not reputed. All Bovaria appeared to know that.” Her voice was firm.
“You are concerned about the holding … and what will become of it … and you?” Quaeryt reverted to Bovarian.
“In my place, would you not be?” she replied in her lightly accented Bovarian.
“In your position, especially, Lady, I would be most concerned.” Quaeryt paused. “Almost as concerned as if you had … written critiques of military commanders in books.”
“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about, Commander.”
“Did the jewels and golds provide a sufficient dowry for Ryel?” Quaeryt asked gently. “Or was it the enticement of a holding sufficiently distant from Variana … and from Rhecyrd, Khanara?”
“Will you drag me before Bhayar in chains, more than twelve years later?”
Quaeryt admired the cool calm in her voice, not to mention the fact that she refused to dissemble or plead.
“I have no intention of doing such. Nor, at this point, does anyone in the Chateau Regis, including Bhayar, know who you are.”
“What do you want, then? Favors?”
Quaeryt smiled. “No. Answers from you to see what is possible. Do you have children?”
“What does that matter?”
“Please answer the question.”
“I have a daughter.”
“From Ryel, so far as anyone knows?”
“She is his.”
“Is she the only blood heir?”
“So far as I know. Ryel doubtless had other offspring, but that was a matter he kept to himself.”
“How old is she?”
“Iryena is nine.”
“You are telling me the truth?” Quaeryt image-projected both authority and the sense that lying would be fatal.
While Tyrena paled, she did not move. “I am. Would that I were not.”
“Good. You are to write a petition to Lord Bhayar stating that you are the lawful widow of High Holder Ryel D’Alte and that you wish to act as guardian and administrator of the holding for his daughter Iryena D’Alte until she is of age to marry a man suitable to become High Holder and approved by Lord Bhayar.” After a pause, Quaeryt said, “This is not a ploy to put you off. If you wish to write that petition here and now, in the study of the Ministry of Administration below, I will wait until you have finished, and then I will write a writ for Lord Bhayar’s signature which will affirm your guardianship and the finding that the holding and lands of Ryel will remain with your daughter and her offspring.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It is best for Lydar that you did not inherit Tilbor, and it is also best for Lydar and Bovaria that you retain Ryel.”
“What, really, do you want?”
“If you can provide it, any information on Submarshal Myskyl and what has happened to his regiments. I will approve your petition, regardless, but that would be helpful.”
“You are not a mere commander.”
“Nor are you a mere widow, Lady Tyrena.”
“I did not expect this.”
“Nor I. About the Telaryn forces in the north?”
“The submarshal has visited many of the high holdings near Rivages, including Ryel. He went over it like a tariff collector, and he demanded a hundred golds as a token tariff. My … husband was most careful in not displaying his wealth…”
“Especially since he had less of it than was sufficient for his aims?”
“Yes. That worked in our favor. The submarshal has settled his forces at other holdings. He has made Fiancryt his headquarters. Some of that might be because Lady Fiancryt was widowed, without heirs, and is said to be modestly attractive.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“It is said that the submarshal has met with many High Holders over the course of the fall and winter, and has neither attacked nor dispossessed any of them. He has imposed the same tariff of one hundred golds on all.”
“Has he sent regiments any distance from Rivages?”
“No. He has sent small parties to towns. His officers have met with the wealthier factors, but the factors have said little. His regiments drill and conduct maneuvers almost every day. He is keeping his forces ready. That is clear.”
“Does he have visitors that seem … unusual?”
“That … I would not know. It seemed better not to be unduly interested.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I have no facts, only feelings.”
Feelings from a woman who had effectively ruled Tilbor for a time suggested more than mere emotion. Quaeryt frowned. “Did not Rex Kharst have imagers?”
“Ryel said he did. I never saw or met them.”
“Do you know what happened to them?”
“I thought they were killed with the others in the battle here.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about Submarshal Myskyl?”
“Only that I would not trust those whom he seems to trust among the High Holders. Although…” she paused, “he is said to be most careful of those who enter his presence, and he is said to receive them always in the same small study at Fiancryt.”
Quaeryt asked a number of other questions, but it was clear Tyrena had told him all that she knew about Myskyl’s operations and maneuvers. Then he asked, “When the submarshal visited Ryel, was he unpleasant?”
“No. He introduced himself, then merely ignored me as much as he could.”
“As Rhecyrd did in years past?”
“How did you know that?”
“I spent a little time as princeps of Tilbor,” Quaeryt admitted. “One of the sisters mentioned it.”
“They talked to you?”
“They believe I did them a service, righted a wrong.”
“Did you?”
“What I did in that instance righted several wrongs, I believe, theirs among them. It had to do with an unfaithful commander of the Khanar’s Guard, or rather his son.” Quaeryt smiled. “Shall we go down to the ministry studies so that you can write your petition?”
Tyrena stiffened. “How will you treat the widows of other High Holders?”
“In a similar fashion to you-with the possible exception of one or two whose husband’s acts may merit the loss of the holding.”
“Such charity.” Her words were dubious.
“Practical. Lord Bhayar would prefer not to dwell on the past. He will be most severe to those who do not pledge allegiance, pay their tariffs, and support his rule. Shall we go?” Quaeryt gestured toward the door.
When they reached the ministry study, Quaeryt opened the door and escorted Tyrena inside. Vaelora rose from her desk, an expression that held puzzlement and amusement.
“Lady Tyrena D’Ryel, might I present you to Lady Vaelora Chayardyr, the other Minister of Administration … and also my wife.”
Tyrena glanced from Vaelora and then back to Quaeryt.