Rex Regis

50

On Solayi, Quaeryt took another two squads and rode south to Folan, arriving just before midday on a cloudless day where the sun beat down mercilessly. Once more, Daefol charged out of the tower-like hold house, if with but a single guard, instead of two. He wore a brilliant blue jacket over dark blue trousers, possibly the same pair he had worn the first time Quaeryt had entered the hold.

“Commander! I thought we had seen the last of you, especially after the hold house fire at Fiancryt.”

“Shortly … shortly.” Quaeryt dismounted and walked up onto the raised terrace. “I’d appreciate it if you and your wife would spend a quint or so with me.”

“Appreciate it? You aren’t the submarshal.”

Quaeryt shook his head. “No … I’m Commander Quaeryt, merely the acting submarshal, I suppose, and I’m that imager married to Lord Bhayar’s sister-as you told your wife last Meredi … when she tried to suggest to you that Submarshal Myskyl might not be trusted.” Quaeryt smiled. “Now … shall we go in and meet your wife?”

For several moments Daefol’s mouth moved. Finally, he nodded.

Quaeryt could sense the consternation and the anger, possibly because Daefol knew full well he’d made a fool of himself before the guard who had accompanied him. So Quaeryt looked squarely at the guard. “Your master isn’t the first to assume the wrong things, and he won’t be the last. So have more than a few armsmen and guards. It might be best if you said nothing.” With his last sentence, Quaeryt image-projected overwhelming power and authority.

“Yes … sir,” stammered the guard.

“And you can help arrange for water and shade for my men and their mounts.” Quaeryt turned to Daefol and said again, “Shall we go?”

“Yes, sir.” Daefol’s voice was subdued.

Once inside the entry hall, Quaeryt asked, “Is Elajara upstairs in her sitting room … or elsewhere?”

Daefol glanced sideways at Quaeryt, then replied, “She’s in the sitting room. She says that it’s the most comfortable in this warm weather.”

“When is she due?”

“Did you come from Variana when you said you did?” countered Daefol.

“I did. And did you have someone check on the new bridge?”

The High Holder nodded, then started up the marble steps. Quaeryt kept pace with him.

At the top, Daefol turned to the right and walked to the last door on the left, pausing before entering and then saying, “Elajara, we have a visitor. This is Commander Quaeryt, the one who was here earlier. He is now the acting submarshal. He is also the imager who married Lord Bhayar’s sister.”

Quaeryt entered the corner room, followed by the High Holder.

The brunette in another loose-fitting linen dress, this one of pale peach, also with white lace trimming, did not rise from the chair, but laid the embroidery hoop on the side table and inclined her head. “You’re kind to visit us again. Will you be staying the evening?”

Quaeryt offered an amused smile. “No, Lady Daefol. This is both a courtesy visit and one to provide some information.”

“Do sit down, Commander. I am to the point where standing for a time tires me, and I feel uncomfortable with you standing.”

Quaeryt took the straight chair closest to Elajara, leaving the other armchair for Daefol, who also seated himself.

“You are kind to include me,” added Elajara.

“No, I am not kind. I hope I am being wise. Now that I am married, I have become much more aware that those men of power whom I respect almost always include their wives in their confidence, and the ones who generally make the best decisions listen and consider what their wives have to say.”

“Still,” replied Elajara, “few women, if any, have real power.”

“Lord Bhayar has granted Lady Tyrena the power to manage the holding until her daughter is of marriageable age. He has also appointed his sister as envoy to Khel, and upon her return named her as joint Minister of Administration for Bovaria with me.”

“He is kind to them.”

Quaeryt shook his head. “Wise. They are both strong and intelligent … as I suspect you are.”

“What is this information you wish to convey?” asked Daefol.

“First, it appears that Submarshal Myskyl was suborned by the surviving members of the three, as was Lady Myranda. In the confrontation I had with the submarshal and the three, all four of them perished when the efforts of the imagers did not work as they intended. In the fire that ensued, Lady Myranda fled. It is likely that her life and holding will be forfeit once Lord Bhayar hears of her role. Second, you will be pleased, I trust, to learn that five of the six regiments currently at Fiancryt will be departing this Mardi, assuming the weather holds. Subcommander Moravan, greatly trusted by Lord Bhayar, and his regiment will remain to assure that matters remain calm.”

Daefol nodded slowly.

Elajara studied Quaeryt. “You don’t powder your hair or paint your nails, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re Pharsi, are you not?”

“I am, but I did not know it until about two years ago. I was orphaned as a young child and raised by the scholars of Solis.”

“He knew much of what we said when he was first here,” added Daefol.

Elajara nodded. “Are you a lost one?”

“Many have declared that I am. I cannot say that. I don’t know. How did you know about the legends of the lost ones?”

“When Daefol described you, I went to the library. There was nothing there. Then I began to ask my maids and others. One of the cook’s helpers knew an old Pharsi woman, and she said that the lost ones had white-blond hair and dark eyes, and they often limped. The greatest sometimes had their hair and nails turn white. When we heard that Kharst had been bested at Variana, the word was that most of the destruction had been wrought by a Pharsi imager who was a commander. You were that imager, were you not?”

“I was the imager in charge of all those who created the destruction,” Quaeryt admitted.

“And you defeated the three by yourself. That makes you most powerful.”

“No. I did not defeat them by myself. Facing them alone would have been idiocy. I brought several other imagers with me.”

“There were no old and powerful imagers among your men. Or were they hidden?”

“No. Those who helped me were young.”

“Did you not train them?”

“Yes.” All but one. “You are rather perceptive, Lady.”

“No. I am trying to be logical.”

“Your logic is largely accurate. You must be of great assistance to your husband.” Quaeryt could see exactly where the conversation was going and what Elajara wanted, and he was happy to do what he could, because she was far more likely to be reasonable and practical and Daefol would be far more rational for listening to his wife. “Or you could be.” Quaeryt turned to Daefol. “If you let her be.”

“She is not interested-”

“She is not interested in angering you. She is very interested in your making the right decisions because those decisions affect her and your children. I would strongly suggest that you give her views and opinions careful consideration. Lord Bhayar has always considered the views of his wife, and of his sisters. It’s a good example to follow, especially since he is now lord and Rex of Bovaria.”

“He does not seem terribly interested in maintaining the traditions of Bovaria,” murmured Daefol.

“Oh … he’s happy to allow those that work. But ignoring the intelligence of half the people isn’t exactly wise, and it apparently didn’t work too well for Rex Kharst. It didn’t work very well for Tilbor, either, when the northern High Holders there decided they wanted an inept male ruler rather than a competent woman.”

“How often do you listen to your wife?” asked Daefol slyly.

“Enough that her advice has saved my life at least three times.” Quaeryt smiled. “That kind of example tends to make one a believer.” He rose, then inclined his head to Elajara. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lady, and wish you well.” Then he turned to Daefol. “I’ve said what I needed to say, and I trust you’ll find the information useful.” He paused for a moment, and when the High Holder did not speak, he said, “Shall we go?”

Daefol nodded and led the way from the chamber.

Quaeryt did not shake his head, although he felt like doing so.