While the Ecoliae did provide ale or lager with the evening meal, Quaeryt had found the lager bitter and the ale unpalatable, and so had accepted the lager as the lesser evil, although, as he looked at the apple-baked dark fish on the platters set in the middle of the table, he had the feeling that the lager might be the best part of the meal-that and the greasy fried potatoes.
“Master Scholar Phaeryn must be most accomplished to have been able to keep the Ecoliae functioning during the time of the invasion, with all the fighting…” offered Quaeryt. “Were you here during that time?”
“Not for the time of the invasion. The Ecoliae was closed then. Master Scholar Phaeryn felt it would not be safe for students or for scholars. We all retreated to his family’s timberland in the Boran Hills until the fighting ended.”
“He must come from a family of means, then.”
“He was the youngest. That was why he became a scholar.”
“He said he’d rather be a scholar than a chorister,” added Yullyd. “He did serve a year in the Khanar’s Guard, too.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Nalakyn.
“Most folks don’t.”
“Didn’t Scholar Chardyn serve as well for a time?”
“He did,” said Yullyd. “He left when Lady Tyrena took over command. Not in name, of course, but in fact. That was when Eleonyd got so ill.”
Quaeryt could see there were more than a few conflicting stories of that time, but said nothing.
“Master Scholar Phaeryn has done marvels here,” said Nalakyn quickly. “The Ecoliae was almost falling down after the war…”
Quaeryt listened intently as the preceptor catalogued all of the Master Scholar’s virtues and accomplishments. He didn’t even have to prod Nalakyn, and that bothered him in more ways than one.
29
After Quaeryt left the dining hall after breakfast on a gloomy and overcast Mardi morning, he was grudgingly grateful for the quantity of flatcakes, which were at least palatable, despite the thinness of the berry syrup. The mutton strips had been almost inedible. He was just three steps into the main corridor when someone called to him.
“Scholar Quaeryt, sir.”
He turned to see a student standing against the wall of a side corridor, a position not visible from inside the dining hall. “Yes, Lankyt?”
“I … just wanted to thank you … for the letter … and for the talk, too, but mostly for the letter. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after I read it. I appreciate your bringing it all this way.”
“I could scarcely have done less after your father’s kindness.” Quaeryt moved toward the young man, stopping slightly less than a yard away.
“There’s another thing, sir.…”
Quaeryt nodded and waited.
“Preceptor Nalakyn … he’s a good man.”
“I got that impression,” replied Quaeryt.
“Scholar Chardyn … he doesn’t care much for anyone who might be in the favor of Lord Bhayar … or the governor. I know you said you didn’t know much about him, but Da-my father, I mean … I think he had a different impression … and I wouldn’t want…”
“I understand, and I thank you. You don’t have to say more. Your father is a good man, and I doubt if you could do better than to follow his principles.” Quaeryt smiled warmly, trying to disarm the youth. “You could help me with one other matter, if you would.”
“Sir?” Lankyt’s voice lowered, holding worry.
“Is there a taverna around here with good food?”
The youth grinned, as much in relief as anything, Quaeryt suspected.
“There are only two close. Well, three if you count Sullah’s, but no one with any sense goes there. Jardyna has better food, and a singer. The spirits are dear, though. Rufalo’s costs less, but the grub is awful. They’re both along the road to the west, less than half a mille, almost across from each other. Jardyna is the one with the picture of the garden.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I listen a lot, sir. People talk.”
Quaeryt laughed. “Keep listening … and thank you. I’m not so sure I can take another supper here.”
“Some nights I feel like that, sir. I’d better go.”
No sooner were the words spoken than Lankyt turned and hurried down the side corridor, leaving Quaeryt alone in the main corridor, if only for a moment.
“Are you still here?” asked Yullyd. coming out of the dining hall. “I thought … Did I hear someone else?”
“I just asked a student about tavernas.”
“They’d all pick Rufalo’s. The lager’s cheap there. That’s fine, but not if you want to eat. Jardyna’s not bad, and if you’ve got a mount, Terazo on the way into Tilbora is very good. Costly, but good.”
Quaeryt paused. “Sarastyn mentioned the Ice Cleft.…”
Yullyd laughed. “That was the old name of Rufalo’s. It hasn’t been called that for years. Rufalo forgets to tariff Sarastyn for half of what he drinks, but then, he probably waters it as well.”
“Well … I thank you. I’ll keep those in mind.”
“If you stay here too long, you’ll want to keep them more than in mind.” Yullyd paused, then asked, “How long will you be here, do you think? Solayi, you’d said.”
“I’d thought through Solayi or perhaps Lundi. I need to spend more time with Sarastyn. He can only talk so long before he gets tired. You wouldn’t know anyone else who knows history that well?”
“Not here. If the governor will let you into the Khanar’s library … there’s a lot there, I’ve heard. But I’d tell the governor’s people you’re from Solis. Things … well … we avoid the governor, and he avoids dealing with us.”
More and more, Quaeryt could see that there were definite tensions between the scholars and the governor, something he’d have to take into account once he reported to the princeps. “I imagine Chardyn would like to look into the Khanar’s library.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.” After another pause, Yullyd added, “You’ve paid lodging and meals through Jeudi morning. If you want to stay longer, let me know.”
“I will.”
Before Quaeryt’s words had died away, Yullyd was on his way down the corridor to his study. Yullyd’s last words had been a reminder to keep paying, as well as an indication of the perilous state of the finances of the Ecoliae.
Quaeryt kept his frown to himself and walked out onto the covered north porch. There he looked in the direction of the Telaryn Palace, where the sky was merely overcast, but a gust of cool wind prompted him to turn to the northwest, where dark clouds had massed and were moving toward Tilbora. Another gust of wind swept the porch, strong enough to shake some of the heavy wooden chairs and to move others fractionally. Then came the patter of rain on the roof, a patter that died away, then repeated itself.
Quaeryt decided against taking a ride, at least for the while. He could always pore over the library, although Sarastyn had been dismissive of the Ecoliae’s holdings. Still, there might be something of value there, even if not along the lines of his purported research, and he might find something else that would shed light on better ways for the governor to deal with Tilbor. He reentered the building and walked to the northeast corner.
The library at the Ecoliae was hardly that-just a large chamber some ten yards long and eight wide, filled with wall shelves and two rows of freestanding head-high, back-to-back bookcases. While a thin graying scholar who had been seated at one of the tables near Quaeryt on Solayi night looked up from the table desk near the door, then nodded pleasantly, there were no bars on the windows and no grated doors guarding the library.
