Princeps

49

Late on Mardi, just before Quaeryt was ready to leave for the villa, Pharyl appeared to pass on a few more bits of information about Factor Andryt, all of which attested to the man’s reputation, and also the fact that his widow had declared that, in respect for her husband, the family would be in seclusion for a month. While all that he had learned wasn’t absolute proof, it was more than enough for Quaeryt.

Meredi morning, Quaeryt lingered over breakfast for a time, talking with Vaelora, but not about Lysienk or Andryt, since they might be overheard, but about the previous day’s hearings, not only the one involving Caesyt, but the others. He had acquitted the cooper on grounds of self-defense, and after seeing the burn marks and whip scars on the back of the pleasure girl, found her guilty of assault, rather than murder, and sentenced her to time served, a hand-branding, and a recommendation to leave Extela. That sentence had bothered him, but it was the least he could plausibly do, and again he was wishing more and more that he could find a justicer who was honest and trustworthy.

A quint or so before seventh glass, he made his way out to the stable, where the rankers had already saddled the mare. Quaeryt didn’t see any sign of Lysienk or the guards who reputedly rode with the factor as he and the two rankers who escorted him rode eastward along the avenue toward the post. He did note where there appeared to be peach trees, as he had previously on other streets around the villa. After five blocks, he reined up. “Wait here, if you would.”

“Sir…?”

“I need to take care of something, and I’d prefer that you remain here.”

The two troopers looked at each other and then at Quaeryt.

He looked back at them and projected total assurance. Then he turned and rode back toward the villa, easing the mare toward the north side of the avenue. A block later he eased his mount close to a large fir and then behind it. Seeing no one near, he raised a concealment shield to cover both himself and the mare and continued riding until he neared the side street on which the villa was located.

Even from the avenue he could see four riders-guards in black, and another riderless mount. Holding the concealment shield, Quaeryt reined up and waited.

A quint passed, and still Lysienk did not appear. Finally, the slender blond figure stepped down from the portico and walked up the drive to the bay gelding, mounted and then gestured to the guards. The five rode in Quaeryt’s direction. None of them spoke as they passed, clearly not seeing or sensing him.

Quaeryt waited until the factor and his guards were well past him, then eased the mare forward.

Lysienk looked back, a half-puzzled expression on his face, then shook his head and continued riding, turning westward on the avenue. Quaeryt followed them, some fifteen yards back, until they were a good two blocks from the villa. On the south side of the avenue, behind a low wall, were several peach trees. Quaeryt nodded and reined the mare to a halt. Then, mentally reaching out to the peach trees, he imaged pitricin into Lysienk’s brain and waited, still holding the concealment.

Lysienk raised his hand, the one not holding the reins, toward his forehead, then tried to speak. He began to convulse, then collapsed forward in the saddle against the neck of the gelding, which stepped sideways. Two of the guards moved toward him. The other two turned their mounts, looking everywhere.

“Something’s happened!”

“He’s dying, I tell you.”

“How can he be? There’s no one around.”

Quaeryt continued to wait silently, until the four were completely involved in dealing with the dead factor. Then he eased the mount around and rode back eastward. When he reached the side street on which the villa was located, he turned the mount north for several yards, then edged next to a fir, where, after looking around and seeing no one, he released the concealment shield, then rode back out to the avenue. From there, he rode eastward and rejoined the two rankers.

“I forgot something I had to do,” was all he said.

He kept thinking about Lysienk.

Having killed Lysienk wouldn’t bring back Andryt or all the others the imager-factor had harmed or killed, but it would stop those kinds of abuses, and it also would stop Lysienk from creating unsavory rumors about imagers and giving them a bad reputation.

Good points, but are they enough? No … but what are the alternatives? He’s killed more than a few factors, never leaving any traces … and waiting will only result in more deaths. Still …

For the moment he pushed away those thoughts, not that they would remain absent, he knew.

The events of the petitioners’ hearing had confirmed Quaeryt’s desire to find a competent and honest justicer as soon as possible, and as soon as he arrived at the post, he had quick meetings with Skarpa, Heireg, and Jhalyt. Then, with an escort squad, he left the post immediately, riding westward toward Mynawal, in order to meet with Bieryn Blaksyn, the “young” advocate that Aextyl had recommended as a possible justicer. Although he passed close to where he had killed Lysienk, he saw no sign of the guards or that they had even been on the avenue.

Why was that so easy? Because Lysienk never thought he’d encounter another imager?

Quaeryt wanted to shake his head. He’d killed men before … too many, but it had been in battle or when he’d been attacked. That’s not true. What about the patrol chief and patrollers in Nacliano? They had tried to kill him, and they had burned the scholarium and killed scholars … So why did his murder of Lysienk bother him? The man had used imaging to kill others. He’d been corrupt and abused power.

Was it because there were no checks on either him or Lysienk? Most likely … and that suggests that imagers need a system to patrol themselves, both to protect others and themselves. That was yet another problem, and he kept mulling it over, now and again, all throughout the ride.

As he neared his destination, he wondered why an advocate would be located in a small town some fifteen milles from Extela-until he reached the edge of Mynawal, some two glasses later, and discovered that while it was no city, it was not a small town, but a thriving place set on a slightly raised plateau above the groves and fields that surrounded it. From what he saw as he rode down the main street, careful to maintain his imaging shields, Mynawal must have contained several thousand people. While that answered one question, it also made locating the advocate somewhat more time-consuming, requiring a number of inquiries along the main street until he finally received a satisfactory one.

“Bieryn Blaksyn? Oh … the advocate fellow? The next block down, second door, past the silversmith’s.” The cooper, who had been lifting a barrel into a wagon, looked at Quaeryt. “You must be an important scholar, sir, to have such following you.”

“There are those who think so. Thank you.” Quaeryt smiled and urged the mare forward.

The directions appeared to be accurate. At least, there was a narrow building without a signpost past the almost equally small shop of the silversmith. Quaeryt dismounted, handed the mare’s reins to a ranker, walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

A young man, barely out of schooling, stood from behind a table desk where he had been copying something in the small front room with single closed door at the rear. Several chairs were lined up against the front wall, on each side of the narrow window.

“Sir…” The young clerk looked past Quaeryt to the squad of uniformed troopers lined up in the street. “Sir?”

“I’m Governor Quaeryt, and I’m here to see Bieryn Blaksyn.”

The young man looked at the troopers in the street, then swallowed. “I’ll … I’ll tell him you’re here, sir.”

The clerk hurried to the door behind him, opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind himself. Through the not-so-heavy walls, Quaeryt could make out some of the words that followed.

“… says he’s … governor … score of troopers outside…”

“… tell you why…?”

“… just to see you…”

The door reopened, and the clerk stood there, holding it open for Quaeryt. “Sir…”

“Thank you.”

When Quaeryt stepped into the small study beyond, he took a quick glance around, noting the plain desk, the file chests neatly stacked against one wall, and the two bookcases, only one of which held volumes, the other of which contained two miniatures and several stacks of papers. Two wooden and unupholstered armchairs faced the desk. Beside the desk stood a neatly dressed angular man who looked to be five years or so older than Quaeryt and a few digits shorter.

“Governor … I don’t have comfortable chairs.”

“These will be fine.” Quaeryt could sense the door closing quietly behind him as he took one of the chairs and waited for Bieryn to seat himself before continuing. “You might know why I’m here, Advocate Bieryn.”

“Justicer Aextyl wrote me. I can’t say as I believed him.”

“Why not?”

“Most justicers are either the sons of High Holders or their relations … or they have … ties … to the governor.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here. The only justicer I’ve heard of or met with a reputation for honesty is Justicer Aextyl. He declined to accept a position as justicer because his health is not good. I asked him who he would recommend. He named you.”

“That was kind of him.”

“Kind? I doubt it. From what I’ve seen, it’s a mostly thankless job, especially for an honest justicer.”

“For a governor who’s looking for a justicer, you’re not that encouraging,” replied Bieryn dryly.

“I’d rather not be falsely encouraging.”

“I don’t know that I’d be that interested.”

“The compensation isn’t exorbitant.” Quaeryt knew, having checked with Jhalyt. “Historically, it’s been between a gold and two golds a week. At present, the amount of time devoted to hearings amounts to less than half a day twice a week. That will doubtless increase, but by how much I cannot say.”

“Justicer Tharyn disposed of all his hearings in a half day once a week,” noted Bieryn.

Quaeryt laughed. “You know more than I do about what it would take. That’s why I’m here.”

“I just don’t know.” Bieryn shook his head.

“I won’t press you. I would like you to think about it for a week or so. Then we can talk again.”

“What do you want from a justicer, Governor?”

“Justice under the law … where possible. Sometimes, it’s not, as I’ve already discovered.”

“I heard about the hearing you held on Vhalsyr.”

“And?” asked Quaeryt.

“Under the law, you had no choice.” Bieryn smiled faintly. “Some justicers tend to impose what they believe is justice regardless of the law.”

“I’ve seen that elsewhere. In those instances, the law simply acts to facilitate the aims of the justicer or those who influence him, and before long, it offers no protection to the innocent and not even an attempt at justice for the guilty…”

Quaeryt and Bieryn talked for another two quints before Quaeryt left.

On his ride back to Extela, Quaeryt reflected on what they had discussed, deciding that as Aextyl had suggested Bieryn would make a good justicer. If he decides to accept the position, and there’s no telling if he will.

Quaeryt finally reined up in the post courtyard at a quint past second glass. Even before he reached his study, in the corridor outside, the duty squad leader hurried up with an envelope.

“Sir, this was delivered in midmorning. The young fellow said it was urgent.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt paused. “No dispatches from Solis?”

“No, sir. No dispatches at all.” The squad leader turned and headed back to the duty desk.

Quaeryt entered his study, closed the door, and opened the envelope, wondering who could have sent it and what it contained.

Dear Governor,

In view of your kindnesses to my father, I thought you would like to know that he died in his sleep last night after a cheerful dinner. He spoke well of you …

The signature was that of Birgyt Aextyldyr.

Quaeryt realized, belatedly, that he’d never known Aextyl’s daughter’s given name, for all the times that he’d visited the house. He shook his head, then walked back out to the courtyard.

Given how far the mare had already carried him, he requested another mount and ended up on a gray gelding with two rankers he did not recognize as his escort.

When he reached Aextyl’s dwelling, he left the gelding with the rankers. He started toward the door, then paused. The sad-faced hound lay on the ground, unmoving. He stepped toward, and saw the eyes move, but nothing else. He eased toward the dog, then stroked its head. The hound gave only the faintest whine and did not move.

“I’m sorry, too, friend.” Quaeryt stroked the dog a last time, then rose and hurried to the door, where he knocked.

A man Quaeryt did not recognize opened the door. “I’m sorry, but we’re not receiving…”

“That’s the Governor, Caxtyl.”

“Oh … I’m sorry, sir.” Caxtyl stepped back.

Behind him, in the small entry hall, stood Aextyl’s daughter.

Quaeryt stepped inside and inclined his head to Birgyt. “Thank you for your message. I am so sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Governor. He was so frail he could have died at any time. He went to sleep happy last night. He did appreciate what you did, because it redeemed him in his own mind.”

“He was so helpful and knowledgeable. I wouldn’t have asked him … had I known he was so weak, but he seemed strong enough when we began the hearing.” Quaeryt shook his head. “It was a short hearing, and as soon as it was over, I saw he was tired, and I walked with him to the wagon…”

“Governor, he was a justicer. You let him be one again. He was happy.” Birgyt looked to Caxtyl, who bore a passing resemblance to both Aextyl and Birgyt.

Caxtyl nodded.

“I would have come sooner, but I was in Mynawal. I did not receive your message until I returned.” He paused. “If there is anything I can do…”

“Governor, many people say that when it is too late. You did something he dearly appreciated before then. You should have heard him talk about the hearing last night.” Birgyt offered a sad smile. “Thank you.”

“I will not take more of your time, but I wanted to express my sympathy and concern.” Quaeryt inclined his head again.

“It is appreciated, Governor. Thank you.”

Quaeryt stepped back, then slipped back out the door. It closed slowly and quietly. He turned and walked to the gelding.

He just hoped Aextyl had died as peacefully as his daughter believed.

You’ve killed the just and the unjust in the same day. But he hadn’t meant to kill the one, and the other should have died far sooner. What does that all mean?

At that moment, Quaeryt couldn’t have said.