Princeps

54

Solayi was without event, and Quaeryt managed another homily, loosely based on what he and Vaelora had discussed in the carriage, rather than on what he worked on earlier, which he saved for the next time he had to give a homily. He rode to the post, cheerfully, on Lundi morning. There were no dispatches, which was likely for the best, but his cheer began to vanish when he saw Major Heireg waiting for him outside his study, a solemn expression on his face.

“What is it, Major?”

“Commander Zhrensyl … he died in his sleep last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Quaeryt nodded slowly. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Does he have any other family we should notify?” Quaeryt knew Zhrensyl was a widower, but little more.

“His son lives in Ilyum, but Hrehn says that they weren’t close.”

“Arrange for services and a pyre tonight, then, and … if you’d draft a letter for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Heireg paused. “He was a good man at heart.”

“I know.” Perhaps not as strong as he should have been, but you might have only seen him when he was failing.

Not moments after Heireg left, a fresh-faced patroller appeared, likely a recruit, since the young man wore the uniform without insignia.

“Governor, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I have an urgent message for you from the chief.” The recruit extended a sealed envelope.

“Thank you. Is he expecting a response?”

“He told me to wait to see if you had a response.”

Quaeryt frowned. “How did you get here?”

“On the patrol wagon, sir. It’s the only one left, Captain Hrehn said.”

Quaeryt nodded. Only one left? There hadn’t been any, but Pharyl was the kind who would work out how to get something his men needed. For that matter, so would Hrehn. “I’ll let you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt entered the small study, closed the door, then opened the envelope.

Governor-

On Samedi evening, a patroller team consisting of two patrollers and a patroller recruit saw a fight occurring outside a cafe facing the south market square. Because passersby were endangered, they broke up the fight. Then a male companion of the man the patrollers took into custody knifed the recruit in the back and then slashed his neck. The recruit died right there.

I had planned to schedule the hearing for tomorrow, but Advocate Caesyt protested that Solayi does not count as a day of notice, and I have scheduled the hearing for Jeudi, along with several other less serious charges.

Quaeryt set down the missive. Something like this had to happen sooner or later. Then he frowned. Since when could a cafe brawler afford an advocate?

He sat down at the desk and immediately wrote his reply.

Chief Pharyl-

Thank you for the notice about the unfortunate occurrence involving a patroller recruit and the scheduling of hearings. Doubtless the advocate is well versed in the precedents, and we should use his expertise in that matter.

I would hope that the hearing would reveal all the details of the event so that justice may be done.

Quaeryt had no doubt that Pharyl would understand what he wanted. He sealed the missive, then rose and walked to the study door, opening it. The young patroller stood there waiting.

Quaeryt extended the missive. “My reply to the chief.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get it right to him.”

“Thank you.”

Quaeryt didn’t return to the study, but made his way to the small room where the two clerks were already at work.

“How are we coming on reconciling Baharyt’s crafter and factor list with the old tariff listings?”

“There’s good, and there’s bad, Governor.”

“Start with the bad.”

“As many as one in ten of those on the old lists aren’t in Extela anymore, not that we and the tariff collectors can find them, anyways.”

Quaeryt nodded. “That’s not unexpected after all that’s happened. And the good?”

“We found almost a hundred shops and crafters and even fifteen factors that haven’t been paying tariffs.”

“But they likely won’t make up what we’ve lost?”

“No, sir. Maybe a third part. Might be half, but that’d be pushing it.”

“We’ll just have to do what we can.” In the future, he might have to ease up tariff levels, even with the lower level of spending he’d imposed, because the Civic Patrol needed to be larger, and there had to be more permanent troopers at the post. Both those were more than evident to Quaeryt.

When he finished with the clerks, a good glass later, he went to find Skarpa, to tell him about Zhrensyl, but discovered that the commander had the entire regiment out on “maneuvers.” Given that Third Regiment was headed to Ferravyl before too long, Quaeryt didn’t find that surprising. Certainly, Skarpa had been diligent in continuing training, although he’d said little enough to Quaeryt.

When he inquired after Dhaeryn and Ghaelt and discovered that they were already at the site for the governor’s building, he decided to ride there and see how matters were progressing.

The two engineers had staked out where the corners of the building would be, and were using heavy cord and stakes to mark out where the foundation trenches would be dug. Two small boys peered at the two engineers from across the street and beside a cart where a woman was trying to sell what looked to be knitted goods in front of a boarded-up shop of some sort. Once the building was completed, Quaeryt had no doubt that someone would either buy or refurbish the old building, most likely for a cafe or the inland equivalent of a chandlery.

He rode closer to the engineers and reined up. “You look to have it well laid out.”

“Not well. Not yet,” replied Dhaeryn.

“That’s a good way of putting it, Governor,” replied Ghaelt. “Look to-that’s if we don’t run into problems with the foundation trenches. And if we don’t hit an underground spring. Don’t expect that here, but you never know.”

“Do you have laborers ready?”

“Plenty of those around here, sir,” said Ghaelt. “Even masons aren’t that hard to come by. Finish carpenters, good ones, they’re not so easy to find.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help frowning. “Carpenters?”

“The good ones leave for places like Solis or the shipyards in Estisle … or they work for the High Holders, or they become cabinetmakers. Make a lot more silvers doing those things.”

Put that way, it made sense, although Quaeryt hadn’t thought of it in that fashion. “Do you have any men at the post with those skills?”

“Torkyn’s not bad, and we can hire his cousin, once we get that far along.”

Seeing as he was only slowing matters down, Quaeryt said, “Thank you. I won’t take any more of your time.” Then he turned the mare and started back toward the post.

At least, if bit by bit, he was making progress. Slow progress.