Rex Regis

5

After morning muster on Mardi, Quaeryt and Vaelora, accompanied by a half squad of troopers from first company, rode through the ruins of Kephria, while Quaeryt, often prompted by Vaelora, took notes-in Bovarian, since Zhael and Arion would need to be able to read them-about what buildings should be allowed where, and where no buildings should be constructed. Assuming anyone even shows up to build anything, thought Quaeryt, although he and Zhelan and Calkoran had already put together a rough plan and location for the trooper compound around the buildings the imager undercaptains were already imaging into being.

Then, a quint past noon, after Valeora had rested for a glass, and Quaeryt managed to avoid asking more questions about her farsight, she and Quaeryt rode over to the “new” trooper headquarters building that the imagers had created from the old blockhouse.

“It’s amazing what the four of them have done in four days,” said Vaelora, taking in the front courtyard, and the barracks building to the east of the headquarters, a structure that Quaeryt knew was essentially an empty but solid shell that would provide shelter, but would require a great deal of work by Arion’s and Zhael’s men to make it comfortable.

The two dismounted. Quaeryt tied both mounts to the hitching rail on the west side of the entrance. They walked toward the single heavy oak door.

Vaelora stopped and pointed to the image cut into the flat white stone set into the wall above the door-two troopers riding through a sundered wall toward a paved road. “That’s you and Skarpa, I think.”

Quaeryt glanced up. “It could be any two officers.”

“Yes, dearest,” replied Vaelora in the falsely sweet voice that told Quaeryt he was wrong, but that she was being too nice to contradict him in public.

“Thank you, dear Lady,” he said, grinning at her.

The two had barely stepped through the door than Baelthm, the oldest of all of the imager undercaptains, stepped forward. “Commander, Lady.” He nodded and then said, “I did the tables and chairs just like you ordered, sir, the longer one for you and Lady Vaelora, and the shorter one for the holder and his son.”

“And you and Lhandor did the image over the entry?”

“Well … sir. We’ve been in haste, knowing that we needed to do all we could for the Khellan companies before we ride out. So Lhandor, he just drew the image in charcoal on the stone, and every so often I imaged out a piece here and there till it was done.”

“It’s excellent,” said Vaelora.

“We do what we can, Lady Vaelora.”

“You do it well.”

“Thank you, Lady.” Baelthm beamed.

“And thank you for the work on the tables and chairs. I appreciate it, and I’m certain that the Khellans will also after we leave.” After seeing-again-what Lhandor and Baelthm had accomplished, Quaeryt wished that he had the artistic skill that they had. But when have you had time for art?

That, too, was another reason why he wanted a secure place for imagers-so that imaging did not have to be entirely about wielding power just to assure the survival of the few handfuls of imagers born in Lydar every year.

At roughly a quint before the first glass of the afternoon, Quaeryt walked outside the headquarters building, leaving Vaelora inside, flanked and shielded by Khalis and Lhandor. A half squad of troopers from first company, with Undercaptain Ghaelyn in charge, mounted and then formed up to the south of the entrance, leaving Quaeryt standing alone directly before the building entry. Before long, Quaeryt caught sight of a group of riders, twelve in all. They rode through the gap in the northern wall and along the stone-paved road that led southward, parallel to the remaining wall that bordered the Gulf. Then they turned onto the shorter and more recently imaged pavement leading to the trooper compound.

As they neared, Quaeryt could see that the ten guards all wore blue uniforms with white piping, as did Barlaan, who rode at the fore beside an older graying man with his right arm in a sling. The older man, presumably former High Holder Basalyt, wore a pale blue shirt and a dark blue jacket with one arm and shoulder free and tucked under the sling. Barlaan kept looking at the walls of the stable, walls that had not been there the day before. Finally, he leaned toward the graying older man, almost certainly his sire, and said something.

The older man offered a short reply, and Barlaan nodded.

The twelve riders reined up short of Quaeryt and the troopers.

“Welcome to Kephria,” offered Quaeryt politely, but firmly.

From the saddle, Basalyt studied Quaeryt, then inclined his head. “Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your hearing me out.” He paused, but briefly, then said, “I can see that there is little left of Kephria, and I have heard that there is less remaining of Geusyn and of Ephra.”

“That’s largely true,” admitted Quaeryt. “Except for Lord Bhayar’s forces, of course, and the compound here. That will change before long.” You hope.

“Is it true that Autarch Aliaro is dead and that Lord Bhayar’s forces hold Liantiago?”

“We have to presume that the Autarch is dead, since there is nothing left of that section of the city, and all that were within the palace perished. There are seven full regiments there.”

Basalyt nodded slowly.

“I’m not the only one who must hear you. Lady Vaelora awaits us inside.” Quaeryt gestured to the door.

Barlaan dismounted, and moved toward his father’s mount, but Basalyt dismounted with the ease of long practice. Quaeryt did notice the wince as the holder’s boots struck the stone pavement.

“Might I ask her role and position in this?” inquired Basalyt politely.

“She is Lord Bhayar’s sister. She was and is his envoy to Khel and was in command here until I returned. Her leadership preserved the regiment and battalion stationed here.”

Basalyt frowned, if momentarily, then took several steps toward Quaeryt before stopping.

“Sir … I’d not thought I’d ever see an ancient in the flesh. I see why Lord Bhayar holds Bovaria. But … given your power…”

“Why is the Lady Vaelora here? For several reasons. First, because Lord Bhayar commanded it. Second, because she was given the authority to deal with High Holders who refused to pledge allegiance to Lord Bhayar. Third, because she sees what I do not.” Quaeryt smiled cheerfully. “Shall we enter? Your men can wait here.” He turned and walked through the door a ranker opened and into the main room.

Vaelora stood behind the table, still flanked by Khalis and Lhandor.

Quaeryt walked to the table, where he turned and stood beside her.

“You may be seated,” said Vaelora.

Quaeryt could sense the aura of command emanating from her. Barlaan was clearly shaken, and Basalyt inclined his head. “Thank you, Lady.”

Vaelora and Quaeryt seated themselves simultaneously.

“You requested this meeting,” Quaeryt began. “You refused to meet with Lady Vaelora and Submarshal Skarpa, and you did not pledge allegiance to Lord Bhayar. Why should Lord Bhayar accept that allegiance now and restore your lands to you?”

Basalyt looked directly at Vaelora. “Might I ask, Lady … if I am dealing with you…?”

“You are not dealing with just me,” replied Vaelora. “Lord Bhayar also appointed Commander Quaeryt as envoy. He trusts the commander absolutely. It is also because the commander destroyed the entire Bovarian army. You are dealing with both of us. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lady. Yes, Commander.” Basalyt shifted his weight in the wooden chair. “The answer to your question is simple, Commander. I had no choice. If I had agreed to meet with anyone representing Lord Bhayar, all the neighboring High Holders would have immediately attacked and murdered me and my entire family.”

“Why?” Vaelora’s voice was as smooth and as cold as liquid ice.

“Because Bartolan was the smallest and weakest holding, and because Chaelaet and Duravyt had sent nearly a hundred armed men to Bartolan. You must have seen Bartolan. Our walls were barely two and a half yards high, and I could not afford more than thirty armsmen. They insisted that we stand together. They asked how a ruler who had not even finished the conquest of Bovaria could possibly force demands on us when Rex Kharst had been unable to do so. I was in no position to argue. So we took what we could and left the rest. We thought we would be able to return once you passed through. None of us ever dreamed that you and your forces could destroy any holding, let alone five, so quickly and so thoroughly.”

“We sent messages to the remaining four of you after we leveled Chaelaet,” Quaeryt pointed out.

“It was too late then. Chaelaet had forced his men upon us.”

Vaelora looked to Barlaan. “How did Chaelaet enter your hold? You tell me.”

Barlaan swallowed. “He rode up with ten men. I think it was ten, and he said he had good news about the Telaryn forces. He often visited, and Challan-he’d paid court to my older sister. That was before she died of the flux. Then, there were scores of men inside the gates, and he told Fa-my sire that he had paid dearly, and so had Duravyt, and that they would not be the only ones who paid.”

Quaeryt image-projected both power and a compulsion to tell the truth as he addressed Basalyt. “You had time to respond before Chaelaet stormed your holding. Why did you not appeal for protection?”

Basalyt laughed softly, but bitterly. “Never has a rex of Bovaria protected a High Holder. How was I to know that Lord Bhayar would do so? No High Holder would have dared to make such an appeal to Rex Kharst. If I had done so, I would have lost everything.”

Unfortunately, as Quaeryt had already discovered, Basalyt had an excellent point.

“Would it not have been wiser to try?” asked Vaelora.

“I know that now, Lady. But it is far easier to say that one should have avoided the hidden pit on the road after one has fallen in.”

“You have yet to answer the question as to why Lord Bhayar should allow you to pledge allegiance now and restore some, or any, of your lands,” said Quaeryt.

“I will be a faithful High Holder, now that I know who rules and how. I also have managed well, and Bartolan is prosperous, if smaller than other holdings. I did not spend golds on armsmen, and that cost me dearly. I have but one son remaining, and no daughters. It cannot hurt your lord to retain the one surviving High Holder in the south-”

“Were all of the border holders at Barna?” asked Quaeryt.

“Four of the five were, Commander. Gaaslon was not. He took all his golds and made his way toward Hassyl. He said he could not fight a son of Erion and Lord Bhayar and that he and his family would leave Lydar before submitting to the whelp of a Yaran warlord.”

Quaeryt could sense Vaelora stiffening, but he merely smiled politely. “He is welcome to his opinion. He has paid dearly for it.” He turned to Vaelora and raised his eyebrows to inquire if she had any more questions.

She shook her head.

“You may leave the chamber and wait to hear what we decide.”

Both Basalyt and Baarlan rose and bowed, more to Vaelora than Quaeryt, and left the chamber. So, after a nod from Quaeryt, did Khalis and Lhandor.

Once they were alone, Quaeryt turned to Vaelora. “What do you think?”

“He’s sincere … or as sincere as any High Holder is likely to be. It wouldn’t hurt to keep one of the original High Holders. That would still leave four holdings that Bhayar could bestow. It would also show that he can be merciful … to some degree.”

“I don’t like the idea of his retaining the holding. If he does, that’s a precedent-even in one out of five-that Bhayar may regret. What if we insist that the holding go to Barlaan, who can rely on his sire for advice? That way, no one can say that Bhayar can’t be merciful to a degree to the family. It would also make the point that Bhayar can remove individual High Holders and replace them with heirs who are more loyal.”

“How do you explain that?” Vaelora glanced toward the closed door, then back to Quaeryt. “They took up arms.”

“Barlaan didn’t fight against us. We don’t have to get into the reason why he didn’t, and Basalyt isn’t going to say anything, not if it means that the family loses everything.”

The two talked for another quint before Quaeryt walked to the door and called, “Have Basalyt and Barlaan return!” Then he returned to the table and sat beside Vaelora as the undercaptains and two troopers returned, followed by the former High Holder and his son.

Barlaan kept looking to Quaeryt, while Basalyt’s eyes were fixed on Vaelora.

Vaelora waited until the chamber was absolutely still. “As empowered by Lord Bhayar we have heard your appeal. Our decision is this. You, Basalyt, former High Holder of Bartolan, may live out your days on the holding. You will not be High Holder. Ever. From this day forward, your son and heir, Barlaan, will be High Holder, and only his direct heirs may inherit the holding. If there is any failing to meet the obligations of a High Holder to Lord Bhayar, or those acting in his name, or if any deception has been practiced in presenting this appeal, the judgment will be revoked and the holding will revert to Lord Bhayar. So be it.”

“Thank you, Lady and Commander,” replied Basalyt. “That is a just decision.”

Let us hope it’s also a wise one, thought Quaeryt. “High Holder Barlaan, you may rebuild a hold house, but it may not have walls or moats or gates, or any form of fortification.”

Barlaan nodded.

Quaeryt thought he looked slightly stunned.

Basalyt cleared his throat. “There is one thing you should know, Lady and Commander. Chaellonyt, the son of Chaelaet, has sworn vengeance against the submarshal who destroyed Laetor and slaughtered his father at Barna. He is Chaelaet’s surviving son, and he did not go to fight in Liantiago. He has claimed that nothing will stop him. I would not want it said that I knew something and did not reveal it.”

“Did he say this to you?” asked Quaeryt.

“No, sir. I heard this from his assistant steward. It was Loetnyn who told me. He is a most honest man, and I trust him. Loetnyn told me because he felt Chaelaet had treated us ill, and he did not wish more ill to fall on us.”

“Is there anything else Lord Bhayar should know?” asked Vaelora.

“Not that I know, Lady.” Basalyt inclined his head.

Quaeryt and Vaelora exchanged glances.

“Then this hearing is at an end,” she declared. “You may return to Bartolan. You will receive a written record of this judgment shortly, and a copy will also go to Lord Bhayar.”

Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora stood until the two men had left.

Then they rose.

“We’ll need to send a message to Skarpa with the other dispatches about this Chaellonyt,” said Quaeryt. “Someone who is that angry could be a real danger.”

“It’s a good thing he has Voltyr and Threkhyl.”

“I’d still be happier if Chaellonyt had died in one of the battles.”

“You can’t do everything, dearest,” murmured Vaelora. “Nor do matters ever go as smoothly as we might wish.”

“No … but…” Quaeryt shook his head. He had the feeling that he’d missed or forgotten something, but he honestly couldn’t think what it might have been.