Scholar

97

Lundi morning, Quaeryt woke to gusty winds that filled his quarters with chill drafts and rattled the shutters. Outside under gray skies, fine light snowflakes danced on the gusty winds. As he shivered his way into his browns, he knew that it was bound to be far colder with far more snow falling in the Boran Hills, and that meant a much slower and more laborious return for those battalions not remaining at Zorlyn’s hold or at Boralieu.

After breakfast, he made his way to meet with Straesyr. He had to wait almost a quint in the anteroom before the princeps arrived.

“You’re always prompt, scholar. Come on in.”

Quaeryt entered after the princeps and closed the door, then took a seat in front of the desk.

“Why don’t you tell me your view of the campaign? I’d like your views on what worked well, what didn’t work so well, and why.”

“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt shifted his weight in the armchair, enough so that he could rest the splint on the short wooden arm, then cleared his throat. “Governor Rescalyn planned the campaign exceedingly well. He also understood from the beginning the need not to become unduly distracted by the continual attacks from small forces of hill rebels…” He went on to talk for almost a glass about what he had seen and the need for the kind of campaign Rescalyn had planned and executed. “… all the destruction was necessary because nothing less would have ended the power of the hill holders to disrupt and restrict formal governing from either Tilbora or Solis.”

“I’ve already heard from several High Holders that they think the additional tariffs on the remaining hill holders are too low. They complain that they’ve paid for more than their fair share. What would you tell them, master scholar?”

“That the price paid by the dead hill holders was far greater than what they have paid, that the higher tariff levels on the remaining hill holders will continue for several years, and that harvesting a ram’s wool for years is more productive than slaughtering or starving it.”

“That won’t make them happy.”

“Nothing will make them happy. If they’re happy, you’re not tariffing enough, because that means they feel like they’re paying less than what they should.”

“You sound like Rescalyn.”

“I never disagreed with his governing.”

“As we discussed, you will, of course, continue to supervise the scholarium.”

“Of course.”

“And I will have you study the ledgers so that you can begin to watch the tariffs and expenses…” Straesyr went on to outline other duties and details he had in mind for Quaeryt. When he finished that enumeration, he looked to the scholar. “Are there are other matters we need to discuss?”

“There is one that Chorister Phargos brought to my attention.”

“Oh?”

“Undercaptain Gauswn-from Sixth Battalion-had at one time studied to be a chorister of the Nameless. Gauswn would like to leave the regiment when his time is up to become a chorister. That isn’t a problem, I would believe, but the problem lies in the fact that the current chorister at the scholarium is quite frail, and his years are numbered, perhaps even limited to months. Phargos feels, and I agree, that Gauswn would make an excellent replacement for Cyrethyn, but it would be beneficial for all, I believe, if Gauswn could be released earlier to study with Cyrethyn before the old chorister is no longer able to impart his knowledge.”

“Gauswn … he’s the one who kept you from being trampled, isn’t he?”

“He is. He’s also the one who’s often conducted services at Boralieu when Commander Zirkyl was unavailable. Chorister Phargos made the point that some good young officers have come from the scholarium, and that having Gauswn be chorister there would be beneficial to Telaryn. If Cyrethyn dies before Gauswn’s service ends…” Quaeryt shrugged.

Straesyr frowned. “I’d like to talk to Myskyl when he returns. That should be within the week. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea. It will also aid in continuing to change the outlook at the scholarium. You’d likely lose Gauswn anyway, and this way, Major Skarpa has more time to groom his replacement.”

“That makes sense. We can work it out.” The princeps nodded slowly. “I’ll still have to talk to the commander. You’re not to say a word to anyone, even Phargos.”

“I understand, sir. I will tell him that I asked you, and you and Commander Myskyl will decide.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment, sir.”

“Then you should get on with those matters.” But Straesyr did smile warmly as Quaeryt slowly rose from the chair.

Quaeryt didn’t return to his own small study until almost ninth glass, where he began on the various tasks the princeps had assigned him.

Given his physical condition, the remainder of the week passed, steadily, if not swiftly. On Jeudi, Quaeryt spent a good glass with Straesyr and several more with the chief accounts clerk and a stack of ledgers, learning enough about the tariff and expense accounts so that he could assist Straesyr at least until Bhayar sent word as to what he intended to do about who would be governor, if not Straesyr, and who would be princeps if the princeps became governor.

On Vendrei, Quaeryt dispatched his reply to Vaelora, one on which he had labored long and carefully. Commander Myskyl returned, in another light snowstorm that tapered off around sunset, with those battalions-and the engineers-who would not be immediately posted to the Boralieu or to Zorlyn’s hold, now being called Rescalyt. With Myskyl came several hundred prisoners … or refugees.

Quaeryt was not included in the discussions between the governor and the commander, which was probably a good idea, he decided upon reflection.

On Samedi morning, the princeps informed Quaeryt that many of his recommendations had been taken and that the scholarium would need to foster some twenty-one orphans. He also gave his decision regarding Undercaptain Gauswn, and on that afternoon Quaeryt rode, with the escort of a squad from Sixth Battalion, to the scholarium, where he spent the rest of the day with Nalakyn and Yullyd over those matters and a quint with Cyrethyn informing him about the acting governor’s decision to release Gauswn from his obligation at the end of Finitas. While there, he recovered the gear and clothing he had left-and everything was as he had left it.

Quaeryt actually rested on Solayi. He did not attend services.

On Lundi morning, a courier delivered a letter to the Telaryn Palace, a letter that made its way up to the princeps’s anteroom, from where Vhorym delivered it to Quaeryt in his small study.

There were two names on the outside of the envelope. One indicated it was from Jorem Rhodynsyn, and the other was given as “Scholar Quaeryt, Telaryn Palace.”

Why was Jorem writing him? Another Pharsi problem? Had something happened to Rhodyn? He opened the envelope, extracted the single sheet, and began to read.

Dear Scholar Quaeryt:

I have heard from many that you are a person of position in Tilbor. I would not impose on you for any favor for myself. I know of no one else to whom I can turn. Hailae has a young cousin named Chartyn. He is barely a youth, but he has been discovered as an imager. As such, and as a Pharsi, his very life will be endangered. Young Chartyn is most industrious and intelligent. He would make a good scholar, but we cannot afford the fees to pay for such an education.…

Quaeryt set the letter aside and took a deep breath. Finally, he picked it up and finished the last lines. He supposed he could include Chartyn as a sort of fosterling and ask Nalakyn to look after the boy. Perhaps even Lankyt would help.

Outside, the wind howled, reminding him that winter was little more than a week away.

He shivered.