Scholar

39

After breakfast on Mardi, Quaeryt went to his small but well-appointed study, where he settled in to think about all the documents he had read over the previous three days and what they had conveyed to him. At half a quint before ninth glass he crossed the second level of the palace to the south side and entered the anteroom to the governor’s study.

An undercaptain in pristine greens looked up from the table desk nearest the closed door to the study. “Scholar Quaeryt. Please have a seat. The governor will be ready for you shortly.”

Quaeryt sat in one of the wooden captain’s chairs set just out from the wall. He’d barely settled himself when the door to the study opened and a trim but muscular man of moderate height stepped out, wearing perfectly tailored undress greens, with the silver starbursts of a marshal on his collars and everything in place from his short blond hair, interspersed with a few silver strands, down to his polished black boots. The cheerful-looking pale green eyes that flanked a straight strong nose took in Quaeryt, and a smile appeared on the governor’s lightly tanned and weathered face.

“So you’re the scholar Lord Bhayar sent?”

“Yes, sir. Quaeryt Rytersyn.”

“Come in.” With another smile, Rescalyn gestured and turned, as if expecting Quaeryt to follow him.

Quaeryt did, and the undercaptain quickly stood and moved to close the study door behind him.

Rescalyn did not seat himself behind the wide but simple table desk that held only a single leather folder. Instead, he stood by the window, not facing toward either it or Quaeryt. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? It’s hard to believe that in little more than a season, the snow will begin to fall.”

Quaeryt knew that the cold struck early in Tilbor … but snow in the middle of autumn? “It’s a long winter here, I take it.”

“Especially compared to Solis … if you can call the slight chill there in Ianus and Fevier winter.” The governor turned. “Do sit down.” He seated himself and waited several moments before speaking again. “The princeps tells me that you’re here to find out why the Tilborans are so stiff-necked and ungovernable.”

“I don’t believe-”

Rescalyn laughed genially and waved off Quaeryt’s words. “Spare me the politely worded qualifications and denials. He’s the Lord of Telaryn. He wants to know why I continue to need a full regiment, with supporting battalions, and all the golds they require ten years after his father conquered Tilbor. Either that or the High Holders in the rest of Telaryn are complaining about their tariffs, and he needs a better explanation. He’s got his hands full with the border problems with Kharst and with the Autarch of Antiago, and the last place he wants to be is another thousand milles farther away. So he sent you. I understand. There’s nothing mysterious about it.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but be impressed by the governor’s words and understanding, not to mention the warmth and understanding in his tone, or the amused smile with which Rescalyn had finished his statement. “He did express concern.”

“Of course he did. Any ruler with brains would be concerned, and I’m glad to see that he is. I’ll be more than happy to make sure that you see and understand fully the problems we’re facing here, and I’ve already conveyed to the princeps that you’re to be given every opportunity to verify anything he or I may tell you-or to find, if you can, anything that contradicts what we may say. I doubt that you’ll find anything contrary to what we’ve reported to Lord Bhayar, but I can definitely understand why he needs to know. The best place to start would be the dispatch files, and when you leave here, I’ll have Undercaptain Caermyt take you there.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I understand you’ve been studying in the Khanar’s library and the archives of the khanarate. What do you think so far?”

“If the archives represent what happened, it appears that Tilbor was relatively well-governed until the last years, and then all internal organization in the palace suffered.”

“You’re being careful in a scholarly way. When Eleonyd sickened, everything collapsed. That was always the problem with the khanarate. It all rested on the organization and personal strength of the Khanar. If he was strong and disciplined, so was Tilbor. If not … well … you can see what happened. That’s always a problem in governing. If there’s not enough structure, and the leadership is weak, the land falls. If there’s too much structure, no matter what kind of leadership there is, the land is far weaker than it should be.” Another smile followed. “What did you think of the library?”

“I thought it most impressive, frankly.”

“So do I. I’ve read several fascinating books from there … when I’ve had time away from my duties.”

“Is there one you’d recommend?”

“The library has so many excellent volumes that I’d be doing it and you a disservice to pick any one out … although I will say that there are some outstanding works I’ve never seen before in among the volumes on history and tactics.” A more serious expression appeared. “What arrangements have you made for informing Lord Bhayar of your progress and findings?”

“I had thought that presumptuous until I was here.”

“So it would have been.” Rescalyn nodded. “I would suggest you send a report with the regimental courier who leaves for Solis every Vendrei morning at seventh glass. I don’t want to see your report, only that you make one, and I’ll go even farther. You can hand that sealed report to him just before he leaves the palace.”

“I’d be happy to-”

“Nonsense. That’s your report to your lord. There is one other recommendation I would offer. It’s up to you, of course, but I would suggest that you accompany patrols through various areas of Tilbor and see matters for yourself.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir, and I would like very much to do that. I’d also like to hear what you have to say. Lord Bhayar was most complimentary about your abilities and perception.”

“I’m not kind. Just practical.” Rescalyn paused. “I will certainly let you know what I think, but I will defer doing so until you have read the dispatches and seen more of Tilbor with regimental patrols. I’d like you to come to some conclusions before I say much.”

Quaeryt couldn’t argue with that logic, even as he respected the way in which the governor had maneuvered matters. He also had to ask himself why there was something about the governor that bothered him. Rescalyn had been open and polite and direct, and certainly pleasant. He also hadn’t mentioned the local scholars, and that suggested, again, that Quaeryt proceed carefully in dealing with that area.

Rescalyn stood. “It’s good to meet you, and I’m glad to see that Lord Bhayar shares my concerns about the unsettled nature of the hill country and backwoods here. Caermyt will show you the dispatch room.”

“Thank you, sir.” Quaeryt inclined his head in respect, then turned and left the study.

The undercaptain was on his feet well before the scholar closed the door to the governor’s study. “This way, sir.”

As he followed Undercaptain Caermyt down the main staircase, Quaeryt thought about the governor’s not-so-veiled order that he needed to accompany Telaryn soldiers into situations that might be dangerous. He couldn’t help but wonder why imagers couldn’t do more … or what they-or he-could do if he were caught in a battle situation. He decided that the lesser danger might be to do a little more in trying to expand his imaging abilities.

At the bottom of the staircase, the undercaptain turned back east along the main-floor center hallway, but only for about ten yards before he produced a key and unlocked the door. Then he handed the key to Quaeryt. “If you would lock the door and return the key to me whenever you’re not here, sir, the governor would appreciate it.”

“I’ll certainly do so, and thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir.” Caermyt turned and walked quickly back toward the main staircase.

Quaeryt stepped into the room, lit, as was the library, by thin high windows on the outer wall, and closed the door behind him. There were rows and rows of neatly stacked boxes, and a single wide table desk next to the inside wall almost beside the door. A bracket held a pair of lamps, positioned over the desk. Neither was lit, but a striker was set in a holder on the otherwise bare wooden surface.

Almost ten years of dispatches-and where was he supposed to begin?

Quaeryt shook his head and moved toward the last box, the one with the top beside it, rather than covering it. That was as good a place to start as any.