He hadn’t sent any reports to Bhayar from Boralieu, but knowing that he’d be returning on a Jeudi, over the previous week he’d written a totally factual report of the events of his month at the outpost, mentioning his injury in passing, but offering nothing about any of his abilities, except an improved capability in the saddle, or any speculations whatsoever. He also had written a summary report of each week’s activities for the princeps.
He had barely dismounted in the stable courtyard when a young ranker hurried up.
“Scholar Quaeryt, sir? The princeps would like to see you at your earliest convenience.”
Earliest convenience? What exactly does that mean? “Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I take care of my mount.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.” The ranker hurried off.
After unsaddling and grooming his mount, Quaeryt dumped his gear in his quarters and retrieved his report for Straesyr, then hurried back to the second level of the main section of the palace and into the princeps’s anteroom. Vhorym looked up from his table desk, then stood. “The princeps will see you immediately, sir. Just go on in.”
Straesyr actually stood as Quaeryt entered his study. “How are you feeling, scholar? How’s that chest wound? I heard you’d been wounded on a patrol. The first reports weren’t that good.”
The princeps’s warm voice held concern, and Quaeryt thought that his ice-blue eyes weren’t quite as hard and calculating as usual.
Quaeryt felt fine, but he replied, “I’m still sore and bruised, but I’ll recover.”
“The governor was greatly concerned. He hadn’t thought you’d run into such an attack that soon. He’d recommended your going on routine patrols at first.”
“It was a routine patrol. Even Captain Meinyt thought so. There were only a few backwoods types. They had crossbows. We lost one ranker, and two others besides me were wounded. Two of the attackers were killed. I didn’t do too much, except talk to the officers, after I felt better, for the next few weeks.” He extended the sheets of his report. “Here is a consolidated report of the time I spent in Boralieu.”
Straesyr smiled and gave a rueful headshake. “It’s a pity you’re a scholar and not an officer. You’re intelligent. You get the job done, and you’re obviously durable.”
“I’m not terribly good with weapons, sir.”
“You think. That’s far more important for an officer.”
Sometimes you think too much. Quaeryt kept that thought to himself.
“There is one other thing.” Straesyr smiled, reached down, picked up a sealed missive off the desk, then handed it to Quaeryt. “This arrived a few days ago by courier. It appears to have been addressed by the same hand as the one awaiting you when you first arrived.”
Quaeryt took the missive and looked at the script. “It does look the same.”
“Without being too intrusive…”
“She is a young lady to whom I was introduced by her aunt just before I left Solis. She posed a number of scholarly issues, and I replied before I departed for Boralieu. While she is charming, I am a scholar, and scholars are not known for their wealth, and I have no family. I will, of course, continue to write, because a woman whose intellect is so sharply honed is rare.”
“You phrased that in an interesting fashion, scholar.”
Quaeryt laughed softly. “I have found little different in the basic ability of men or women to think. I have found great differences in the proportion of each who are trained to use their thoughts and faculties to the fullest.”
“My wife would agree with you, as would my daughter, young as she is,” said Straesyr dryly. “I will have to relate your observation to them.”
“Are they here in Tilbora?”
“My wife was not about to allow me to remain here unaccompanied. That may be suitable for a widower such as the governor, she said, but not for a handsome and intelligent man. We have quarters in one of the row houses beyond the stables.”
“I saw children…”
“Doubtless at least one of them was mine.” The princeps smiled again. “You have had a long day, and I would not keep you yet longer. You will be in your study in the morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Until then.”
Quaeryt inclined his head and departed.
As he walked back to his quarters to unpack and see what he could do about getting his garments washed, he thought again about the princeps. Behind the open mannerisms, Straesyr concealed a great deal, possibly even more than did Rescalyn. Yet his mention of his wife had been anything but casual, even as easily presented as those words had been.
Not until he was back in his quarters, which had been swept and cleaned in the last day or so, did he study the letter that bore Vaelora’s handwriting, although only his name and posting were written on the outside. Interestingly enough, he could detect no sign that the seal had been tampered with, none at all, and he finally broke it and extracted the sheets of paper inside and began to read.
Dear Scholar Quaeryt-
I am in receipt of your correspondence of 33 Agostas. I do appreciate your thoughtful commentary on the points that I raised previously, and I cannot convey how pleased and relieved I was to learn that you arrived safely in Tilbora, despite the difficulties you encountered in your travels.
You had observed certain aspects of my discourse and addressed those with care and consideration. In addition, I would propose, if but tentatively, an additional observation. I believe, and it is, of course, only my belief, that among all people, and particularly among women, those who are often most effective in changing the course of events are those who are many times the least noticed or noticed as having been merely helpful …
Those words struck Quaeryt, and he reread them, then nodded.
… That being said, there are doubtless many who are effective and well-noticed, and of great accomplishments and meritorious achievement, but, if one can believe the histories and, indeed, the legends, it would appear that of those many a rather large proportion did not live to the ages they might have had they not been so well-noted in their accomplishments.… Again, this is but the opinion of a woman, and one who has led a most sheltered life.…
He couldn’t help but smile at that line. No one in Bhayar’s household led exactly a sheltered life. Protected, but not sheltered. He continued to read through her notes on several books she had read, and her pithy, if carefully couched, observations.
… and although fall is approaching, the weather remains more reminiscent of summer than of fall, or even of harvest. I do hope my words have not been excessive or terribly less than scholarly, and I look forward to your reply.
Again, the letter was signed with but her single initial.
As Quaeryt reread the letter, something else nagged at him, and he retrieved her second letter, and reread it quickly, then her original letter-and laughed quietly. While the logic and the validity and structure of the basic thoughts were still there, the second and third letters contained far more flowery and self-deprecating phrases and qualifications, phrases which he believed not at all, but whose purpose was all too clear. What remained unclear-and likely would for some time, perhaps always-was her motivation in writing. Did she feel so constricted within her palace that such letters were her only escape?
Quaeryt had no way of knowing, and he was not about to ask, not when he enjoyed receiving those missives-and replying-and when asking might offend her enough to cause her to cease writing. He immediately sat down to compose a reply, but only finished slightly more than a page before he realized it was time to eat-and that he was indeed hungry.