“She needs to use the conference table to write a petition to Bhayar so that he can approve her guardianship of her daughter until she is of age to marry.”
“She may use my desk if she wishes,” said Vaelora, easing away from her desk.
“Chayardyr? You’re … a sister of Lord Bhayar?”
“I am.”
“He let you marry…”
“No,” replied Vaelora. “He ordered us to wed.” Vaelora looked to Quaeryt.
“I will leave you ladies.” He looked to Tyrena. “Did you leave retainers somewhere?”
“They are waiting in the main entry.”
“I will let them know that it will be a time before you return.” He nodded and left the study, not without wondering what might transpire.
Once away from the two, he walked swiftly to the main entry, where he found two guards and an older woman. “Lady Tyrena is meeting with Lord Bhayar’s sister at the moment. It may be a glass or so before she returns.”
All three nodded.
Quaeryt left them and returned to the clerks’ study, where he spent a quint going over the summary reports from Deucalon. There was no mention of expenditures by Myskyl. Quaeryt hadn’t expected any entries, but there was always the possibility.
Then he returned to the study that held the two ladies.
Vaelora immediately said, “I had Lady Tyrena add a few items to her petition. I thought that, should she remarry, the lands would still go to her daughter.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem…”
“You need to sign next to me,” added Vaelora.
At the end of the petition, beneath Tyrena’s signature, was a single sentence that bore Vaelora’s perfect penning: “Approval of the petition of Lady Tyrena D’Ryel-Alte is recommended.”
Quaeryt signed beside his wife, then imaged his seal beside hers.
Beneath their signatures was another short line. “It is so ordered, in spring after the fall of Variana to Lord Bhayar of Telaryn, this day of 13 Avryl.”
“We should present the petition, and Lady Tyrena, to Lord Bhayar while he is present in the chateau,” announced Vaelora, stepping back from the desk.
Although Quaeryt had not intended to do that, he could see Vaelora’s point. “Shall we go, Ladies?”
None of the three spoke until they reached the ranker by Bhayar’s door. The ranker looked to Quaeryt.
“Commander Quaeryt, Lady Vaelora, and Lady Tyrena D’Ryel-Alte.”
The ranker repeated the names, then opened the study door at Bhayar’s gruff, “Have them enter.”
The three advanced to where Bhayar stood beside the conference table.
“Lord Bhayar, might I present Tyrena D’Ryel-Alte, the widow of the late Ryel D’Alte, High Holder of lands near Rivages.”
Tyrena curtsied gracefully. “Lord Bhayar.”
Vaelora presented the petition. “There is but one heir, a daughter, and according to your instructions, the petition requests the lady be appointed as guardian until her daughter is married, and that the lands follow the bloodline of Ryel and Lady Tyrena.”
Bhayar took the petition, read through it carefully, then walked to his desk and signed it, then applied his seal. “Hold the lands in allegiance, Lady, and all will be well.”
“That I can do, Lord Bhayar, in full faith and thanks.” Tyrena curtsied deeply. “As I can, I will speak of your sense of fairness and justice.”
Bhayar looked to Vaelora, who stepped forward and took the sealed petition, and murmured almost voicelessly, “Thank you.”
“We will not take more of your time, sir,” said Quaeryt, inclining his head.
Bhayar smiled, then added, “I trust your return to Ryel will be peaceful, Lady, and give my greetings to your daughter.”
“I will indeed, Lord, with gratitude.”
The three left the study and walked down to the main entry. The two guards in black and silver livery looked relieved to see Tyrena, as did the older woman, also in black and silver.
Tyrena looked to Quaeryt, then to Vaelora. “I cannot thank you enough. One hopes for justice, but one cannot always expect it.”
“Lord Bhayar has always attempted to be just,” replied Quaeryt.
“It helps greatly when those who serve a ruler also believe in justice. That has seldom been the case in Bovaria, but I can hope that it will be so now.” Tyrena curtsied once more, then stepped back.
While Tyrena’s voice was firm, Quaeryt thought he saw a slight brightness in the eyes of the former Khanara.
As Quaeryt and Vaelora walked back toward the ministry studies, he asked, “How was your conversation with Tyrena?”
“You are a very naughty man, dearest.”
“Why?”
“Because you neglected to mention who she was … or to inform her who you are.”
“I told you her name-” Quaeryt couldn’t help but grin, even as Vaelora interrupted him.
“Dearest … that was most disrespectful. I didn’t tell her that.” She paused. “What did Bhayar say before you met with her?”
“I didn’t tell him who she was, except that she was Ryel’s widow. I wasn’t sure, not until I met her.”
“He’ll find out, sooner or later.”
“Possibly, but I doubt she’ll ever set foot in Variana again. She’ll raise her daughter and pay her tariffs and rebuild her holding.”
Vaelora nodded. “You may be right … this time.”
“What did she ask you?”
“That is between us. You did impress her, though.”
“And that’s not disrespectful-”
“Impressing other women might fall in that category…”
“Not unintentionally,” Quaeryt mock-protested.
Vaelora smiled sweetly, then grinned.
27
After a quiet dinner in their quarters, Vaelora set down the glass of red wine that she had barely touched and asked, “What did Tyrena say about Myskyl?”
“That he inspected the hold at Ryel like a tariff inspector…” Quaeryt went on to relate that short conversation word for word, at least as he recalled it.
“So Myskyl has just been sitting a few hundred milles away for two seasons, doing nothing?”
“Nothing except drilling his troops, meeting with lots of High Holders, and living off the land, collecting tariffs … and not telling your brother anything. That doesn’t make sense unless he’s planning something.”
“Because he knows that you could destroy him if he were to try something like Rescalyn did, you mean?”
Quaeryt nodded. “But he hasn’t done anything overt. He could claim that he is carrying out Bhayar’s wishes, meeting with High Holders, obtaining the token tariffs, and keeping his regiments in fighting shape.”
“But he hasn’t sent any dispatches.”
“No. We don’t know that. We know Bhayar hasn’t received any.”
“You don’t think Deucalon is keeping them from Bhayar? That he’s the one planning something?”
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve never trusted either one, but I trust Myskyl less.”
“What if it’s all a ploy to get you and the imagers away from Bhayar?”
“To set up something like what happened to Skarpa?”
“That’s possible.”
Quaeryt frowned. “I could be wrong, but … Aelina and Clayar are in Solis. If anything happens to Bhayar, Deucalon and Myskyl would know that we and the imagers would support Clayar.”
“Unless you’re not around to support him,” Vaelora pointed out. “Most of the senior officers are beholden to Deucalon, except for Pulaskyr and Paedn…”
And one is in Antiago, and you’ve recommended Bhayar send the other to Solis.
“… Half your imagers are elsewhere. You’ve only got the youngest and those that aren’t that strong. Without you, with the imagers scattered…”
“That would mean that there’s a plot against Bhayar and me.”
“Possibly just against you, dearest. What options would Bhayar have without you and the imagers? Would he not have to treat with Myskyl and Deucalon?”
“So … what do I do if Bhayar asks me to go see what is happening with Myskyl? I can’t exactly charge Myskyl and Deucalon with plotting. There’s no evidence of that, and I don’t think we’ll find any here in Variana, even if they’re up to their necks in something. And I’m the one who suggested I might have to go look into Myskyl’s lack of action.”