Scholar

87

Solayi dawned bright, clear, and chill, with gusty winds that were warm only by comparison to those of the night before. Quaeryt had spent the night in the hayloft of a barn, but he’d been surprised to see that, even so late as it was in the year, the first day of Finitas, the last month of the year, with just that month left before full winter descended on Tilbor, the loft was but half-filled with hay and wild grasses. Still, sleeping there had been far softer and warmer than where he had spent the previous nights. He almost felt guilty-almost-that he hadn’t had to do the night patrols assigned to Meinyt’s company or to join in the parties that carried bodies to the several pyres that had been built. That alone convinced Quaeryt that Rescalyn intended to have the regiment stay for at least several days, because in the past, the bodies had simply been disposed of in the buildings that were burned.

At close to the second glass of the afternoon, a ranker arrived to summon Quaeryt to meet with the governor. As he accompanied the ranker, Quaeryt suspected that he’d once more be asked to deliver a homily. He only wondered if, this time, Rescalyn would suggest a subject.

Rescalyn was waiting in the main room of the quarters attached to what might be called a coach or equipment house, seated at one end of a battered dining table, with two oil lamps on each side of the maps he studied. He gestured for Quaeryt to approach, but did not rise.

“Sir?” Quaeryt wasn’t about to ask why he’d been summoned.

“Tell me, scholar … why do you fight?” Rescalyn’s voice remained cheerfully hearty, as it seemed to be most of time, at least from what Quaeryt had heard every time he’d been around the governor.

“You assigned me to Sixth Battalion, sir. What else would you have me do when they’re fighting?”

“You were only required to observe.”

“It has appeared to me that an observer in a battle or skirmish faces all of the risks with none of the advantages of a combatant.”

“Do you not believe that to be true in life, as well, scholar?”

Quaeryt smiled carefully. “I suppose that would depend on whether one’s circumstances place them in a situation resembling a battle.”

“So it would. But is not most of life arranged in that fashion, if more concealed and obscured by custom, golds, and fashion?”

“Certainly, some philosophers have claimed that to be so.”

“What do you think?”

“I do not believe it is always so, but it is more so than most would care to admit.”

“That is a careful and scholarly reply, as befits a scholar.” Rescalyn smiled. “Neither life nor war are always either careful or scholarly … as I hope you have observed in your time with the regiment.”

“I have indeed, sir. Might I ask what you plan next?”

“You may ask. I’ll answer in general terms. We have crushed the four hill holders who declared rebellion. I have sent a courier under a parley flag to hill holder Zorlyn, with a message. That message offers a cease-fire to him and all remaining hill holders provided they swear immediate allegiance to Telaryn and its lord … and offer additional tariffs of two parts in ten. I wrote him that Telaryn is making the offer because he did not join the declared rebels. If he does not so swear, then he will suffer the fate of the deceased rebel holders … as will any holder who does not do so.”

“Do you expect him to do so?”

“What do you think, scholar?”

“I have my doubts, sir.”

“So do I, but, by making the offer, I appear reasonable.”

“You also show the High Holders that, if tariffs need to rise, you will back such increases with force.”

“That, too,” replied Rescalyn with a smile. “Oh … I expect another homily tonight … and would you convey to Undercaptain Gauswn that his services will also be required? You can use the large wintering barn.”

Quaeryt had expected that “request.” He only had been surprised that Rescalyn hadn’t begun with it. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s all, scholar.”

Quaeryt nodded and departed.

When he returned to the barn, Gauswn was waiting for him.

“Sir … are we-”

“Yes, the governor has requested that we conduct services tonight in the large wintering barn. It appears we’ll be here for several days. If you’ll excuse me for a few moments, I need to report to Major Skarpa.”

“He’s at the north end, sir.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt walked to the far end of the barn.

Skarpa turned from the senior squad leader with whom he had been talking. “Scholar.”

“Major … I just returned from talking with the governor. He asked that Gauswn and I perform the services tonight-in the large wintering barn. He also said that he’d sent a message to Holder Zorlyn, suggesting the holders acknowledge the primacy of Telaryn and its lord. He is awaiting a reply.”

“I hadn’t heard that, but he has called for an all-officers’ meeting in a glass. We’ll be here for several days, then. At least two more. Thank you.”

“I thought you should know, if you didn’t already.”

“I appreciate it.”

Quaeryt headed back to find Gauswn and discuss the service. He also needed to find another “appropriate” topic for his homily.

A glass later, he was sitting on a post in the corner of the barn, below the hayloft, thinking … and murmuring ideas to himself.

“Youth and strength as Naming … no … Cyrethyn mentioned that. Who is better remembered-Caldor, Hengyst, or Rholan? No … that suggests that rulers aren’t to be trusted as much as followers of the Nameless … Rholan … the creation of a legend…”

He paused. What about the idea that creating a legend is a form of cultural Naming … that legends effectively destroy truth … and why is it that most great men so wish to be a legend in their own time?

Quaeryt smiled. He could do something with that idea … something that he could directly tie in to the acts and behaviors of the hill holders … while suggesting that form of Naming existed in great and powerful men of accomplishment everywhere … and that sometimes, only the intervention of the Nameless prevented even greater disasters. He wouldn’t mention that powerful men often claimed that the Nameless had made their excesses, which they regarded as triumphs, possible.