be reserved for when no other alternative will achieve the ruler’s ends. In such cases, appropriate force should be applied before the enemies even know the ruler is considering such use.… Force of arms can be as limited as the assassination of a single enemy commander of great skill, or even of a cousin or other relation who would plunge a land into chaos, or as great as the conscription of every able-bodied man in the land … most skillful of rulers can see when to use assassination or other tactics to avoid the ruin that follows even the most successful of battles …
At the last sentence, Quaeryt had to nod. He unfolded the notepaper, apparently the bottom half of a larger sheet, on which were written the words “even ancient writers could see where the greatest dangers lay…” The cursive script looked feminine to Quaeryt, but it had the unnatural precision, he thought, of a young woman still under the direction of a scholar or private tutor. The very words reinforced that impression, because no truly experienced woman would leave such words in a book, even in her own library.
Could the writer have been the Khanar’s daughter? Tyrena, was it?
While not new, the paper didn’t look that ancient … but how many young women had access to the library over the years? On the other hand, how many would dare to leave such an incriminating scrap … unless that young woman happened to be untouchable?
He left the paper in the book and replaced it on the shelf.
After another quint of searching he did find a volume that recounted the history of Tilbor from the time of Nidar the Great through the time of Eleonyd’s father, who appeared moderately strong, if strangely indifferent. That tome occupied Quaeryt for several glasses, and one phrase particularly caught his attention.
… though some thought agreeing to it a weakness, the Charter proved to be the basis of the power of the High Holders and led to the relative decline of those holders who did not agree to its terms …
The only problem was that he couldn’t find much about the Charter, except that it was an agreement between the Khanar and some of the holders of that time. Quaeryt had the feeling that the Charter was one of those events that everyone at the time knew and therefore wrote little about it, only to have the details fade over the years. There was probably a book somewhere, but …
He shook his head.
Other books did provide various insights and by the time he needed to leave the library for the day, he thought he had a somewhat better grasp of Tilboran history, at least until the time of Eleonyd.
When Quaeryt finally entered the mess for supper, he could see far fewer officers-roughly half as many as on Vendrei night-but one was Major Skarpa, who motioned for Quaeryt to join him and another major. “This is Quaeryt. He’s the scholar assistant to the princeps I told you about. Quaeryt, this is Daendyr. He’s in charge of supplies for the regiment.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” said Quaeryt as he took the seat across from Skarpa.
“I’ve never seen a scholar attached to a regiment before.”
“He’s on the governor’s staff,” Skarpa said. “They had to give him officer status.”
Daendyr nodded.
“What have you been doing today?” Skarpa handed the pitcher of amber lager to Quaeryt, who filled his mug.
“Seeing what was in the Khanar’s library.…”
“Who reads all that?” asked Daendyr.
“I’ve read some of them,” admitted Skarpa. “A couple of the books on mounted tactics are good.”
“Then why didn’t they use them?”
“The Khanar’s Guard did. They gave us a lot of trouble, even though we outnumbered them.” Skarpa shook his head. “Then, all of a sudden, they just withdrew, and left the Khanar and his militia or whatever they were outside the palace moat and walls. We would have taken them sooner or later, but it was a lot easier that way.”
“They didn’t have any imagers?” asked Quaeryt. “I heard…”
“Lord Chayar did something about that. We never heard. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Imagers can only do so much, and that doesn’t change things in a pitched battle.”
“What about the High Holders?” asked Quaeryt.
“What about them? They really didn’t fight any more than they had to. The ones here in the south didn’t like the Khanar much. They called him the Pretender or some such.”
“It sounds like he wasn’t very well-liked anywhere.”
Daendyr shook his head. “The backwoods and Boran Hills holders liked him, and so did the High Holders around Noira.”
“The High Holders in the far north don’t count for much. They never have,” countered Skarpa.
“Where do the sisters fit in?” asked Quaeryt.
“The sisters?” Daendyr’s face screwed up in puzzlement.
“Oh … they’re a bunch of spinsters who supposedly poison men who beat their wives,” explained Skarpa. “Something like that, anyway.”
“Where do you get that?” asked Daendyr.
“You hear things.”
“Makes me glad I didn’t wed a local.”
“Have you all been posted here since … since the end of the fighting?”
“We have,” said Skarpa. “They’ll rotate field-grade officers who are married after three years.”
“If they ask, and most won’t,” added Daendyr.
“What about the rankers?”
“They stay for the duration of their term.”
“When they’re mustered out…?”
“They get their bonus and a ride on a transport wagon back to Solis or the closest large town to where they signed up. If they’ve done two ten-year terms, they get a stipend for life. It’s not much, two silvers a month, but…”
“And the marshal sends replacement recruits?”
Daendyr shook his head. “Tilbor’s a part of Telaryn. We have to recruit locals now. We have been for more than eight years.”
“We haven’t had trouble that way at all,” added Skarpa. “The governor makes certain the troops get good rations, and the quarters are good. The uniforms are better than what most of them ever wore.”
“If it weren’t for the backwoods and the northern brigands, it’d be a better life than most of them would ever have.”
“It is anyway.” Skarpa’s tone was wry.
At that moment, a large platter of sliced roast mutton arrived, accompanied by a pitcher of brown gravy and sliced roast potatoes, as well as a large serving dish of spiced stewed apples.
“The mutton’s much better than squid,” observed Skarpa.
“It’s good, but I still like the squid,” said Daendyr.
“You’re from Thuyl. You would.”
Quaeryt smiled and served himself healthy portions of everything before him. It had been a long day since breakfast, and the mess didn’t serve a midday meal.
After eating, and mostly listening, as Quaeryt walked back toward his third-floor quarters, thoughts swirled through his mind. He was getting a picture of how matters were going in Tilbor, and it did appear that the troubles facing the governor and the regiment centered on the backwoods holders and the northern High Holders. In that vein, he also found it interesting that both Phaeryn and Zarxes were from backwoods holder families. He needed to find out if Straesyr or the governor knew that, but, since he wanted to avoid total destruction of the Ecoliae and persecution of scholars, he definitely couldn’t ask directly. He also wasn’t ready to reveal what he’d been doing in the days before he’d arrived at the Telaryn Palace.
And he did need to write some sort of reply to Vaelora.
He also couldn’t help but wonder about the note he’d found in
He shook his head.
