Rex Regis

62

By Mardi morning, Quaeryt was beginning to feel as though he had at least a basic grasp of what Vaelora had dealt with and accomplished while he’d been involved in thwarting Myskyl’s and Deucalon’s scheming. Although Bhayar had not indicated whether he intended to accept Quaeryt’s recommendation for the eventual disposition of the lands belonging to the late High Holder Fiancryt, he had issued a proclamation declaring Lady Myranda guilty of treason and her life forfeit.

Quaeryt had also arranged for Calkoran to ride out to meet whomever the High Council of Khel had sent as envoy once word was received that the envoy was within a glass or so of the chateau. That left him free to deal with the other matters that seemed to appear from everywhere, including yet another letter about repairs of the Anomen D’Variana and an inquiry from the sole scholarium, the one north of Variana, asking for consideration and support.

Quaeryt had almost, but not quite, mentally pushed aside the issue of Khel and the arriving envoy when a trooper hurried into Vaelora’s study slightly after midday and announced, “The Khellan envoy is riding up to the front of the Chateau Regis.”

“We should greet him, then,” said Vaelora calmly, “even though no one greeted us properly in Sandeol.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help smiling, thinking, She may forgive, but she never forgets. He’d learned that quickly. “Him?”

“Bhayar sent me. The High Council will send a man, most likely Councilor Khaliost.”

“Because he’s the only man on the High Council and the oldest, so that he can be replaced when he commits Khel to terms that the others don’t like?”

Vaelora shook her head. “They’ll keep him on the Council for a time so that everyone can demand of him the reasons why he gave away so much.”

“Bhayar won’t-”

“Bhayar might,” she said. “We won’t. Let’s go see if I’m right.”

Quaeryt would have been surprised if she’d been wrong.

“We need to let the kitchen know to send up the refreshments to the lower receiving parlor,” added Vaelora.

Before that morning, Quaeryt hadn’t even known there was such a parlor, let alone where it was, not that he was surprised to find one existed, given the size of the Chateau Regis.

After sending instructions to the kitchen, the two left the study and headed for the front entry. They had only been waiting at the top of the white-stone steps for about a third of a quint when the squad from Major Zhael’s second company reined up. A second squad was behind the first, led by Major Eslym. Quaeryt frowned, then realized that Calkoran was at the front of the group, and beside him was the white-haired Khaliost, and beside and behind him several others in Khellan garb.

Calkoran dismounted immediately and walked halfway up the steps, then turned to face Quaeryt. “Lady and Minister Vaelora, Commander Quaeryt, might I present the envoy of the High Council of Khel, Councilor Khaliost?”

“We look forward to receiving the councilor and his party,” replied Quaeryt.

At that, Khaliost immediately dismounted and walked up the steps. He still wore the tan tunic and red chorister-like scarf. He also carried a leather folder. Behind him was a black-haired older woman, if not so old as Khaliost. She wore dark leathers, despite the warmth of summer, and the red leather gloves and belt of a Khellan Eleni.

Quaeryt knew he had seen her before.

“The Hall of Heaven,” murmured Vaelora.

The Eleni who tested us.

Quaeryt waited until the two reached the top of the steps and stood opposite them, then offered the sole Pharsi greeting he knew, and then in Bovarian, “Welcome to the Chateau Regis, Councilor and honored Eleni.”

Vaelora added a few words in Pharsi.

Khaliost inclined his head. “Your men have treated us well, Son of Erion and Daughter of the Greater Moon, but we are glad to be here.”

“We have refreshments for you inside,” said Vaelora, stepping back.

The Eleni studied the chateau, then looked to Quaeryt. “Your imagers are skilled.”

“Some of them. Others are just powerful.”

She merely nodded thoughtfully.

Once the four of them were seated in the receiving parlor, and Khaliost and Vaelora had sipped some of the white wine, and the Eleni and Quaeryt had tried the pale lager, Khaliost looked across the circular table.

“I stopped to talk to the Khellan officers and troopers in Kephria,” said the white-haired councilor.

“What did you discover?” asked Vaelora.

“That Liantiago belongs to Lord Bhayar. We knew that. The High Council would not have sent me otherwise. I wished to know how that had happened. They told me.” Khaliost turned slightly to address Quaeryt directly. “They also told me that there are at least four other imagers of great power, although you are more than a great imager, and far more than a mere commander.” His eyes shifted to Vaelora. “And you see more than any woman, even any Eherelani or Eleni, should see. The majors told me you lost your daughter protecting them.”

“I did lose her at Kephria.”

“You expect another,” said the Eleni flatly.

“I do,” admitted Vaelora.

“She will be an imager. I do not know if she will have your sight. That comes later.”

“Thank you.”

“I would not wish thanks for that, Lady. A woman who is an imager … she will face great trials, even with the protections you and your consort can provide.”

After another sip of the wine, Khaliost went on. “I took the liberty of also talking to Marshal Calkoran after he came to escort us. He insisted that I meet with Major Eslym. The major presented me with a dagger. He insists it is the dagger that Erion threw to protect you against the remaining imagers of Rex Kharst when you faced them while trapped in a chamber lined with lead and iron.” The older man smiled cheerfully. “Is it?”

“It was thrown by a figure that looked like Erion,” Quaeryt admitted.

“It is stronger than iron and lighter, and the edge is sharp enough to shave a man or behead him. The major says that it also pierced an iron-lined door.”

“That is true. It pinned Submarshal Myskyl to the door.”

Khaliost nodded. So did the Eleni.

For several moments, there was silence.

Then Quaeryt asked, “Are you empowered to agree to the final terms you work out, and will the Council be bound by those terms? Or will we work out something only to discover that the Council will reject it, and then we’ll have to invade Bovaria?”

“That is why Chiana is here. Whatever terms we agree on, the High Council will accept.” Khaliost sighed. “I hope we can agree, because I cannot agree to what would amount to a complete surrender of who and what Khel is.”

“Lord Bhayar is generally reasonable.”

“The Council knows that of you. We hope that of him.”

“Might I inquire as to what instructions the High Council gave you?”

“To obtain the best terms possible, and to obtain assurance from you that you will support those terms.” Khaliost paused, then opened the leather folder and extracted several sheets, which he handed to Quaeryt. “Here is an outline of what the High Council would suggest for terms, based on what you said in Saendeol. Chiana and I realize that these are what the High Council wishes, but the more that Bhayar wants beyond these, the more unhappy the Council and the people of Khel will be.”

“I can only promise that Vaelora and I will go over the suggestions first before presenting them to Lord Bhayar. Although we will have to read your proposed terms, there will doubtless be some provisions that will need to be added.”

“Such as?” inquired Khaliost.

“I would not wish to prejudge what the Council has proposed,” replied Quaeryt. “I’m only stating that such additional provisions may be necessary.”

Khaliost nodded, then asked, “Might I ask what laws will govern Khel if Khel agrees to terms?”

“Lord Bhayar is considering a new legal codex that will merge the past laws of Bovaria with those of Telaryn, with certain additional changes to provide some protections … and possibly some limitations on … certain individuals. He intends that, in general, all laws and tariffs across Lydar be the same, with no special provisions for traders or factors from one part or another.”

“There are differences in customs…”

“We know,” replied Quaeryt.

More than two quints later, Quaeryt and Vaelora exchanged glances.

“There are quarters for you…” Quaeryt looked to Chiana.

Khaliost laughed softly. “She is my cousin.”

“We have more than enough rooms for your party,” said Vaelora. “We don’t have the chateau fully restored, and the smaller dining chamber is rather bare. Its sparseness is not a lack of respect, but a lack of time and golds to complete the refurbishing of the chateau.”

After another quint of discussing arrangements, Vaelora had one of the maids, essentially serving as a footman, escort the two to their quarters, while one of the administration clerks dealt with the six guards that had accompanied them.

Then Vaelora and Quaeryt retreated to her ministry study and began to read through the terms proposed by the High Council.

Two quints later, they looked at each other.

“Bhayar will never agree to all of this,” said Quaeryt.

“They know that,” replied Vaelora, “and we know that they know that.”

“So what do we do? Separate out the provisions into groups-those that are acceptable, those that are unacceptable under any conditions, those that we can soften to acceptability, and those Bhayar needs that they haven’t addressed and we need to add?”

Vaelora smiled. “That’s a start.”

Quaeryt had the feeling that long days and nights lay ahead of them.