Princeps

53

By Samedi morning Quaeryt had still received no dispatches from Bhayar. Because Samedi was the thirty-fifth of Avryl, the last day of the month, it was beginning to look more and more as if Third Regiment might actually remain in Extela until the fifteenth of Mayas. Since Quaeryt had heard nothing from Bieryn, he was getting the feeling that the advocate wanted no part of becoming a justicer. Quaeryt couldn’t say that he blamed the man. Perhaps, at least, he could consult with Bieryn about the advocates who had put their names forward for the position … if he ever had time to spend a day riding out to see the advocate.

On the other hand, Pharyl was reporting success in both recruiting and initial training of patrollers, and Ghaelt was working on getting together the crafters necessary to construct the governor’s building … and there were no more complaints on Samedi morning about the lack of cheap or free flour.

Quaeryt left the post earlier than he otherwise might have on a Samedi, although most military posts gave most of the men Samedi afternoons off, as well as all of Solayi-except, of course, those posts engaged in dealing with rebellions or war. It was slightly before third glass when he stepped onto the portico of the villa.

“Good afternoon, Governor,” offered Shenna, clearly preparing to leave for the day. “Lady Vaelora is upstairs preparing.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt inclined his head slightly. “Have you found other sources of provisions?”

“Yes, sir. They are much more reasonable, and so are those who purvey them.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“So was Lady Vaelora.”

“She’s quite pleased with all the help you’ve provided.”

“I’m pleased to be of assistance.” With a slight bow to Quaeryt, Shenna said, “Good day, sir,” and headed down the steps to the drive and then up toward the street.

Quaeryt turned and made his way into the villa, glancing in at the now perfectly respectably furnished receiving parlor and then at his study. The doors to the formal dining room were closed, since that chamber remained empty-finding a suitable table and chairs for a reasonable price had proved impossible … so far.

The master dressing chamber was where Quaeryt found Vaelora, who had just donned the same gown she had worn to the last ball in Tilbora.

“You look wonderful.”

“It’s too dressy, but nothing else is right, either. If there’s a ball here, I’ll have to wear this again, and hope that Aramyn and his guests tonight won’t say anything … unless I can find another good seamstress.”

“Shenna might know one.”

“She knows the same ones Grelyana knows.”

Quaeryt wasn’t about to address that issue. “I’ll wash up and be ready before long.”

“Your best browns are laid out, with the dress jacket.”

“Thank you.”

“Alsyra did that.”

“But you told her, and I appreciate that.”

“We’ll need to leave in less than a glass.”

Quaeryt understood.

He washed up and dressed, then went down to his study and wrote what he could for Solayi’s homily, then waited for Vaelora to appear. When she did, he escorted her out to the end of the portico, where the coach was waiting, with a ranker teamster and two outriders.

Neither spoke much until the coach was headed westward on the avenue, partly because Quaeryt was half bemused by the fact that he was traveling in a well-appointed coach, with velvet upholstered and padded seats, and even with real glass windows that could be swung up and fastened in place to keep out rain or snow. More amazing was that the coach was effectively his, at least so long as he was governor. A former scholar in a villa with a coach and team and a beautiful and devoted wife?

“It almost feels strange to be traveling somewhere in a coach,” said Vaelora. “Until this week, it’s been so long since I’ve been in one.”

Quaeryt glanced at the pair of ranker outriders, a precaution suggested by both Skarpa and by Heireg, who was now essentially the post commander, since Zhrensyl had taken a turn for the worse and was bedridden. He couldn’t help but think about how quickly things could change. While Zhrensyl had looked worn when Quaeryt and Vaelora arrived in Extela, the commander’s decline had been precipitous, as had that of Aextyl-at least, it had seemed that way to Quaeryt.

Health, life … everything could change so quickly. One moment, Extela had been a city where all had been going well, and a day later a quarter of it had been in ruins.

“What are you thinking about, dearest?”

“How things can change so swiftly.”

“Is that for your homily tomorrow?”

“More likely for a later one. I’m got some ideas for tomorrow.”

“Well … one day you were a scholar assistant and single, and the next…” She smiled.

“The next I was a princeps and betrothed to a lovely lady.”

“And now you’re a governor.”

“And it’s not exactly what I thought it would be,” he replied with a laugh. “Very few people are happy with what I’ve done.”

“But Extela is doing so much better.”

“It will be harder when the regiment leaves, and that’s in two weeks from tomorrow-unless I get a dispatch ordering them out even sooner.”

“You don’t really think that will happen, do you?”

“It seems unlikely, but even two weeks may not be enough to complete some of the work. It won’t likely even be soon enough to begin work on the governor’s building, and that will mean paying more to local workers.”

“You’ll make it work. You always do.”

“So far … How are you and Shenna coming on finding a dining set?”

Vaelora shook her head.

For the rest of the ride out to Aramyn’s chateau, Quaeryt listened as Vaelora explained how she was coming in refurbishing the villa … and the problems she faced.

The coach and team slowed as the teamster guided it along the curving drive through the High Holder’s private park and up the gentle rise to stop before the main entry of the old yellowish red brick chateau. While a doorman immediately stepped forward to open the coach door, Aramyn, dressed in a deep red velvet jacket and gray trousers, stood at the top of the steps waiting.

“Greetings, Governor and Lady Vaelora,” offered the High Holder. “That’s a handsome team and coach.”

“We picked them up for the governor’s residence from a widow who needed only one coach,” replied Quaeryt.

“Ah, yes, that fellow Lysienk. I heard he was riding and suffered a seizure. They say it couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow.” The irony in Aramyn’s voice was so light that it was barely discernible. “Well … that was good for you. Do come in. Everyone’s wanting to hear about how you’ve managed to restore order in the city.” There was a slight pause. “This is just a small dinner … the four of us and my nephew and his wife, who are visiting from Montagne.”

While Quaeryt was more than happy for the smallness of the gathering, he could see the slightest hint of a frown on Vaelora’s brow, gone so quickly he doubted anyone else had seen it.

“We appreciate the chance to see you again, in less urgent circumstances,” replied Quaeryt.

“There are so many things that Lady Minya and I did not have a chance to discuss,” added Vaelora.

“Good,” replied Aramyn with a warm and broad smile, turning at leading the way to the same salon where Quaeryt and Vaelora had spent the better part of an afternoon once before.

The four others in the salon rose as Quaeryt and Vaelora entered.

“You’ve already met Minya. Might I present my nephew Jaekyt and his wife Buhlyn. Governor Quaeryt and Lady Vaelora.”

“My pleasure,” offered the trim Jaekyt with polite warmth.

“I so wanted to be you,” offered Buhlyn, a tall and broad-shouldered woman with curves only slightly excessive for her frame, if accentuated by the clinging mauve velvet gown she wore. She smiled warmly at Vaelora. “I saw you and your sisters ride through Extela years ago, and you all carried yourselves so well.”

“She still does,” added Quaeryt.

“Would you like to try some of my white winter wine?” asked Aramyn. “I must say that it’s better than the un-iced wine … this year, at least.”

“Most years,” added Jaekyt.

“Please,” said Vaelora.

Quaeryt nodded.

While the group might have been small, it was obvious that he and Vaelora were more than welcome, and that the evening would be enjoyable …

… and it was, through the wine and aperitifs, the turtle soup, the braised and marinated beef with lace rice and other side courses, the lemon tarts, and the Montagne brandy that Jaekyt had brought with him. The conversation only touched the superficialities of the situation in Extela, and then moved on to other less substantive matters, such as the best wines from the hills around Extela, and the difficulty of finding good seamstresses.

Quaeryt was almost sad to go, except he was tired.

When they had left the chateau, in the darkness of the coach, he turned to Vaelora. “Did you enjoy the dinner?”

“I did indeed. The food and company were both excellent.”

“Except what?”

“Did you notice that all the guests, except for us, were from his family?”

“I did. You think that signifies we’re not in the greatest of favor among other local High Holders?”

“I do, dearest.”

“That’s doubtless because I’ve trod on the polished boots of all the others, except for Thysor.”

“He wouldn’t count. He’s so far away that he’s scarcely local. We’ll just have to see how things turn out.”

Indeed we will. Quaeryt reached out and squeezed her hand, as the coach rolled eastward, back to the villa. But he still worried.