Scholar

63

On Solayi, Quaeryt took the mare for a ride, telling himself that he needed to try to locate some of the factorages belonging to those whom he had met at the reception. While that was partly true, he also felt he needed to escape the confines of the palace. He did indeed locate Cohausyt’s sawmills and saw from a distance stone quarries that might have belonged to Jussyt.

He returned in time to write up his weekly report for Straesyr and then went to the evening meal, and, because he had not been around during the day, he also attended the evening services, presided over by Phargos. Most of the regimental chorister’s homily was forgettable, but one phrase did catch Quaeryt’s attention and linger in his thoughts.

“… if there were no higher power, men would do what they would, for then there would be no spirit to face the Nameless and no reckoning to a life ill spent…”

Are men and women so weak and so stupid that they can only do what is right because of the threat of an almighty power? Can they not see that if all behave well, then all benefit more, even the most powerful?

Unfortunately, he feared that Phargos might well be right, and that saddened him.

On Lundi morning, Straesyr was waiting for Quaeryt even before seventh glass and beckoned him into his study.

“Close the door, if you would.” The words were pleasant, and the princeps was smiling, not that smiles meant much, Quaeryt had long since discovered.

Quaeryt laid the single sheet that was his weekly report on the desk and took a seat across the desk from the princeps and waited.

Straesyr ignored the paper. “Did you have a pleasant ride yesterday?”

“I did. I spent some time trying to locate factorages, those of factors I met on Samedi.”

“What did you find out at the reception?”

“A great deal about the practical side of a number of factorages,” replied Quaeryt, “especially stone quarrying, sawmills, and milling, among others. I also overheard some comments about the local scholars … and then several factors approached me about them.”

Straesyr nodded. “I had hoped some might reveal their concerns. Who might those be?”

“I gave my word not to reveal their names because all were either concerned or actually fearful about their safety if any word of their names were bruited about.”

The princeps frowned. “Do you believe them?”

“I fear I do. Perhaps it is time for me to visit the local scholars.”

Straesyr fingered his clean-shaven chin. “Do you think that wise?”

“I think it would be unwise not to. As a scholar, I can see what might be amiss. Also, as I reported earlier, many of the shopkeepers I visited in Tilbora were most standoffish until I revealed I had come from Solis and was your assistant.”

“If they are dangerous…”

“An escort would be helpful,” said Quaeryt with a wry smile.

“The governor has already approved your visit to Fhaedyrk. I dispatched a messenger on Samedi. He returned yesterday, and the High Holder will receive you on Meredi afternoon at the second glass. The governor did agree that I could approve any escort of a squad or less for you, with the approval of Commander Myskyl.”

“You don’t think a squad is sufficient for the scholars?”

“Do you?”

Quaeryt considered for a moment before replying. “I feel that a squad would be either more than sufficient if my doubts are unfounded and most inadequate if they are not.”

Straesyr offered a crooked smile in reply. “I fear that we share the same opinion. I will discuss the matter with the governor. It might be best if you remained in the palace until I do. He may wish to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any questions about the reception?”

“I did wonder how often you hold such.”

“Once a season, even in winter. It does remind all of them that they have someone who can listen and who does represent them before the governor and Lord Bhayar. That is useful.”

“Are there any particular groups of factors who seldom attend … or who never have?”

“There are a handful whose appearance is less frequent, but they’re the ones who are located farther away.”

After several more questions, Quaeryt smiled. “I do have another question, sir, but not about the reception.”

“What is it?”

“I’m curious about how tariffs are actually collected.”

“Why?” Straesyr’s voice remained pleasant, almost jovial.

“In most places, factors and others complain about tariffs. Here the only complaints seem to be from the hill holders.”

The princeps frowned. “I don’t understand the point of your question.”

“I’m probably not being as clear as I could be. The captains and majors all talk about how dangerous it is to do anything in small groups in the hills and how so often holders have to be reminded of their … obligations … by a visit by a company or more. I had the impression that such a show of force was unnecessary elsewhere, but I never asked.”

Straesyr smiled. “Your assumption is correct. I send a notice of tariffs due to each crafter, factor, holder, or High Holder at the end of harvest. They can pay here at the palace in the small building across from the east gate guardhouse, or at any post or outpost-or with the town council in towns that have a council, or with the council of the nearest town that has a council. That has seemed to work for all but the most recalcitrant of the hill holders.”

“Then you’re responsible for consolidating the tariffs and providing the funds to the governor and sending whatever is left to Lord Bhayar?”

Straesyr laughed. “Not exactly. There is a minimum amount of tariff that must be sent to Lord Bhayar. At the end of harvest, I draft and the governor approves or changes a proposed budget for the next year. He sends that to Lord Bhayar, along with the current year’s tariffs. We have always been able to exceed the minimum requirements, often by a fifth part or more.”

“Thank you. I have no more questions, sir.”

“I will see you later, or Vhorym will let you know about the visit to the local scholars.”

Quaeryt returned to his study, where he spent some time reflecting upon the meeting with Straesyr. Abruptly, he recalled what the old ranker had told him when Quaeryt had been waiting for the surgeon. He nodded to himself, then rose and walked back to the princeps’s study, where he found Vhorym.

“I’ll be in the stables for a bit. I want to check on my mare.”

“Yes, sir.”

It took Quaeryt almost two quints to find the head ostler.

“Sir? What can I do for you?” asked the graying and not-quite-grizzled figure.

“I just wanted a few moments of your time. I’m gathering information for Lord Bhayar, and I thought you’ve probably been one of those here the longest.”

“Yes, sir. I came here with Marshal Fhayt.”

“And there’s only been one regiment here, with all its horses, since then?”

“Well, sir … there were three regiments here right after the fighting stopped, but the second regiment left within two months. The third left in the spring.”

“Did the two regiments pretty much fill the stables, then? When both were here?”

“Oh … no, sir. We had two empty stables, mayhap a bit more. We didn’t have so many engineers, and the companies were just four squads.”

“You don’t do much with the other posts or outposts?”

“No, sir.”

“But everyone and all the mounts were stabled here for the first few years?”

“Yes, sir. Governor Rescalyn was the one who built the outposts. Good idea. Without them, we were losing too many mounts. Too much time on the road without enough solid fodder, especially in the winter.”

“You get all your winter fodder from growers here?”

“Yes, sir. Good fodder and grain. Governor wants the mounts healthy.”

“Have you ever seen any of the horses used by the hill holders?”

“Only a few. One came back a week ago. Scrawny underfed thing. Already looking better.”

“Are they all like that?”

“I couldn’t say, sir. The ones I see are, but maybe those are the ones that let their riders down and get caught.”

Quaeryt asked a few more questions before leaving and obtaining the key to the dispatch room. Between what Straesyr had said about budgets and tariffs and what he’d learned from the head ostler, he wanted to check a number of the dispatches.

Almost three glasses later, after having combed through the dispatches, especially the early ones, and those dealing with the budget submissions, he took a deep breath and leaned back in the wooden chair. In plain sight, indeed. Or rather, the omissions were in plain sight.

He needed to ask a few more questions of Skarpa before he could confirm what he thought he’d discovered, but that would have to wait until the evening meal-if Skarpa happened to be there. After returning the dispatch-room key, he made his way back to his study.

He’d been back less than a glass when Vhorym knocked on his half-open door.

“Sir? The princeps asked me to tell you that the governor approved your mission to deal with the scholars. A company from Sixth Battalion will accompany you on Vendrei.”

“Thank you, Vhorym.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Quaeryt merely nodded, since he truly doubted it was a pleasure at all to the squad leader. He spent the rest of the afternoon calculating and then thinking out what he needed to write in his next letter to Vaelora and his next dispatch to Bhayar, but he committed nothing to paper.

Not yet.

At dinner, Quaeryt sought out Skarpa without seeming to and ended up sitting with Skarpa and Daendyr, the major in charge of supplies. Until they were well into the meal, and both majors had downed a mug of ale, Quaeryt merely listened and bantered.

Finally, as they were finishing the last scraps on their platters, he said, “I’m not an officer type, but the other day I heard a young ranker complaining about the number of patrols. Then an older ranker told him to stop complaining-not in those words-and that he didn’t know how much easier it was these days because the companies used to be just four squads.”

Skarpa shook his head. “The young ones always think they have it so tough, and the old ones are always reminding them that it was tougher in the old days. But the old ranker had it right. Just four squads, and we were running our mounts into the ground. When Rescalyn took over, he stepped up recruiting and mount procurement and added a squad to every company and another company to every battalion. Made all the difference.”

Another battalion as well?

“That, and the outposts,” added Daendyr.

“And your supply group,” countered Skarpa. “You could supply a whole army.”

“Not that much…” demurred Daendyr.

“Almost,” insisted Skarpa.

After eating and talking a while longer, Quaeryt made his way back to his quarters, still thinking, and more worried than ever. If his calculations were correct, Rescalyn had turned his single “regiment” into a force equivalent to more than three regiments, with his own engineers and his own supply group as well. As Skarpa had inadvertently put it-a whole army-and the way the dispatches on budgets and expenditures were set up and sent to Bhayar, there had never been a mention of the increased number of squads or companies, just the costs of operating and maintaining the “regiment,” with various explanations dealing with the cost of the outposts and the like.

All in plain sight.