Princeps

4

Yet another snowstorm blew in on Mardi afternoon and evening, but by midday on Meredi, bright sun and southern breezes were so much in evidence that wherever the stone pavement had been largely cleared, the remaining snow and ice had melted, leaving the stone dry. Even so, with the dray-horse plows and more than a company shoveling away the snow, it was close to late afternoon before the laboring rankers cleared the long paved lane down the hill on which the Telaryn Palace was situated.

As he stood before the window in the princeps’s study, looking beyond the walls to the snow-covered hills to the north, Quaeryt reflected on the events of the first month and a half of the new year-beginning with Bhayar’s arrival in Tilbora and the greater surprise of Vaelora’s appearance … and their wedding. At the same time, being princeps was … well … close to demandingly tedious, and it certainly would have been depressing to some extent without Vaelora’s presence. The position was one of keeping track of detail after detail, listening to unhappy and sometimes greedy factors, and managing supplies and expenses for the three regiments. Still … tedious or not, he had learned a great deal about finances, logistics, and what was required. He’d also learned that keeping everyone even close to happy took an inordinate amount of time. Then there were the odd duties, such as overseeing the reformation of the scholarium. He was just happy that he’d dispatched the draft imager rules to the scholarium early on Lundi, somewhat revised by suggestions from Vaelora.

He had to admit that he was relieved, not so much by her admitting she knew he was an imager, but by her almost matter-of-fact acceptance of his talent. He’d almost blurted out asking her if she had visions, as her grandmere had, but he’d decided to wait before posing that question. He suspected that she did and that was one reason why his imaging talent didn’t seem to bother her.

He turned at the rap on his study door, opened immediately by Vhorym to admit Straesyr.

“Sir?” Quaeryt rose from his chair.

The governor closed the door behind him. He carried several sheets of paper, which he extended to Quaeryt. “I think you should read these.”

Quaeryt took them and immediately began to read. The sheets were a dispatch from Bhayar, ordering the departure of First Regiment as soon as possible and practical, using the more southern route, if necessary because “events require the presence of additional forces in the west of Telaryn immediately.” The next paragraph “requested” that Third Regiment be readied for departure as soon as practicable, but no later than the third week of Maris, while Second Regiment be split into two regiments, the bulk remaining with Second Regiment, and a new Fourth Regiment be created and reinforced with recruits and standing complement from Telaryn Palace.

Quaeryt looked up. “It would be good to know what those events might be. The way he wrote that could mean anything.”

“He’s concerned that someone besides us might read it,” the governor pointed out.

“That suggests trouble with Kharst.” Quaeryt paused. “Or that Lord Bhayar is planning some action to forestall even greater trouble with Bovaria.”

“Either way…” mused Straesyr, “it points toward war before too long.”

“Unless he thinks bringing two more regiments to the west might give Kharst second thoughts.”

“From what I’ve heard, Rex Kharst is impulsive enough that he sometimes doesn’t even have first thoughts.”

“Impulsive, but effective. Or his marshals are good enough to make his impulses effective.”

“That doesn’t lessen the effectiveness,” pointed out Straesyr.

Quaeryt noted that the governor didn’t point out that those less charitable to Bhayar could have said the same thing about the Lord of Telaryn.

“Myskyl could have First Regiment on the road in less than a week,” said Straesyr. “What about supplies?”

“Raurem is supposed to deliver a wagonload of those grain cakes on Jeudi, if we don’t get another storm. The rest of the stores are ready to go.”

Straesyr nodded. “The grain cakes will help, especially for the ride beyond Ayerne. There won’t be any forage at all.”

“I’ll see about getting more of them for Third Regiment. We have the golds for them, and even if it’s tight, we won’t have the expenses for victuals and fodder later in the year with two regiments gone earlier than planned.”

“Except that these orders to recruit and train another regiment will increase expenses.” The governor’s voice was dry.

“Creating a Fourth Regiment might not be bad. Some of the younger men who followed the hill holders might not mind food, clothing, and coppers, and sending them west would keep things quieter here. We might do a little planning along those lines.…”

“I already have,” replied the governor. “Rather, I’ve adapted the plans Rescalyn had already made.”

“Did he plan to split the old regiment into three regiments?”

“He planned for four, the way Bhayar just ordered.” Straesyr smiled sadly. “He was a brilliant man. He just didn’t anticipate that Bhayar would send an equally brilliant scholar to observe-and one who proved to be rather … durable.”

“Fortunate,” corrected Quaeryt.

“I’ve noted that fortune often tends to follow the most observant and best prepared in ways that reward them far more than mere chance, my dear princeps.” Straesyr offered a smile both warm and ironic. “In any instance, we’d best prepare for recruiting and staffing another regiment. Who would you suggest as commander?”

“Would Commander Zirkyl prefer to leave Rescalyt for a more active command? If you gave him a choice … a real choice … so that he doesn’t feel that he’s being pushed … Or would Myskyl prefer to leave First Regiment? They’re both good at training and discipline without overdoing it.”

“Since Myskyl’s senior, I’ll ask him. I’d wager he’d prefer to head south with First Regiment, but he’d like the chance to have a choice, and I’d like to give that option to him.”

Neither mentioned that the older commander had not been all that enthusiastic about the events surrounding Rescalyn’s death in the last moments of the battle against Zorlyn … or that he might prefer greater distance between himself and Quaeryt.

Quaeryt nodded, wondering, again, what exactly might be happening to the west … and if Straesyr would happen to be right in suggesting that Quaeryt might find himself leaving Tilbor before that long.