Scholar

Quaeryt understood the question the undercaptain hadn’t asked. “I’m afraid I’m not like most scholars. I left the scholars before I finished schooling and went to sea. After six years I came back and pleaded for them to take me back.” He hadn’t pleaded; he’d bargained, but that wasn’t something he wanted to get into with Jusaph. “They took me back.”

“I wondered, sir.”

For the next half mille, the undercaptain was quiet, and Quaeryt let him have his space. Finally, he did ask, “Will you do a patrol tomorrow or Vendrei?”

“No, sir. The mounts get a rest tomorrow, but the men will spend the day on blade drills. On Vendrei, we’ll be at the east maneuver fields practicing full-company exercises.”

“They keep you occupied.”

“Commander Myskyl-he’s the regiment commander-says that there are only two kinds of soldiers: those who are always prepared to fight and those who are dead. Some of the majors think we’ll have to fight the Bovarians before long. You’ve just come from Solis. What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard stories that Lord Bhayar’s concerned about them, especially after the way Rex Kharst massacred so many of the Khellans.”

“That’s what Major Skarpa says. You can’t trust them. Anyone who does is foolish.”

Quaeryt nodded and shifted his weight in the saddle. It was well past the second glass of the afternoon, and most of those four glasses since he’d first mounted up had been in the saddle.

As they neared the Telaryn Palace, Quaeryt couldn’t help but think that, for all the concerned tone in the dispatches he had read, he certainly hadn’t seen any signs of hostility on the part of the people as the patrol had ridden past. People had looked up, then gone back about their business, some smiling, some frowning, some indifferent, but no one’s behavior had seemed to change at the appearance of the patrol.

While he didn’t think he’d learn anything new, once he stabled and groomed the mare, he would finish reading all the rest of the dispatches. With his luck, if he didn’t, the one dispatch he missed would be the one that would have told him something he needed to know.

He shifted his weight in the saddle again. With each passing quint, riding got more uncomfortable.

43

After returning from the patrol, Quaeryt stabled and groomed the mare, then made his way up to the second level of the palace, where he stopped to inform Vhorym that he had returned and that he would be heading to the dispatch room.

“You might check your desk before you go to the dispatch room, sir.”

“Thank you. I will.” Quaeryt managed a smile, then turned and made his way to his study.

There on the desk was an envelope with his name on it, and underneath his name was also written “Scholar Assistant to the Princeps.”

Now what?

He opened the letter, took out the single sheet, and read:

THE HONORABLE RESCALYN CALYNSYN,

MARSHAL AND GOVERNOR OF TILBOR,

REQUESTS THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE

AT A RECEPTION IN THE PALACE,

AT THE SIXTH GLASS OF THE EVENING,

SAMEDI, 35 AGOSTAS

IN THE GREEN SALON.

There was no line suggesting a response, but then, since Quaeryt was assigned to the princeps, who reported directly to the governor, the invitation was essentially a command to appear … if a very polite one.

He had no formal attire, or even the equivalent of a dress uniform. The new browns were the best he could manage, and he had not worn one of the new sets yet. They’d have to do.

He slipped the invitation-or summons-back inside the envelope and placed the envelope in the single flat drawer in the table desk. Then he left the study and headed over to the governor’s anteroom to obtain the key to the dispatch room. He had to wait almost half a quint before Caermyt returned, and he began to wonder if he should image a copy of the key.

No. That’s an invitation to trouble, especially if you’re found there when Caermyt has the key. He could use an imaging concealment.…

He shook his head and waited.

Once he obtained the key, he hurried downstairs, but he’d no more than started to light the lamps in the dispatch room than he realized he had to write a report of his arrival to Bhayar immediately because the weekly dispatch rider left early the next morning … and he needed to finish the reply to Vaelora-for more reasons than one.

Rather than return the key, because he intended to finish reading the dispatches after the evening meal, he locked the dispatch room and hurried back to his own quarters, where he retrieved the letter he’d begun to Vaelora, before heading back to his formal study.

Once there, he started in on the report to Bhayar, knowing that it would likely be read long before it reached the Lord of Telaryn. He made it short, and the only inaccuracies were in what he did not report, because he mentioned the travel and the delay in Nacliano, as well as his concerns about the attitude toward scholars, but not his actions there. He also reported the storm and shipwreck, and his illness, possible poisoning, and his recovery, but then noted that after recovering he had traveled to Tilbora and reported to the princeps on the twenty-seventh of Agostas. He concluded by noting the courtesy and the helpfulness of both the princeps and the governor in allowing him full access to all parts of the Telaryn Palace and its records, as well as arranging for him to accompany various patrols.

Finishing the letter to Vaelora took more time. He did add a section about his duties in general and a few words about the one patrol on which he had ridden.

… Although this was the first patrol I accompanied, the governor has assured me that there will be many more so that I can fully experience the difficulties and the successes that he and his regiment have achieved and report most accurately to Lord Bhayar. It does appear that the problems he faces in dealing with Tilbor lie in the areas away from Tilbora, especially in the far north and in the hilly timberlands of the Boran Hills. He has also had much success in recruiting men and junior officers, especially from around Tilbora, where there are warmer feelings toward him and his men. I have not met with any High Holders or merchants but look forward to encountering the latter as time permits.…

I offer my deep appreciation for your thoughts and concerns, and especially for your efforts to assure that your correspondence did indeed reach me.

Quaeryt pondered the closing for a time before settling on “In sincerest admiration and appreciation.”

By the time he finished, addressed, and sealed both missives, it was approaching time for supper, and he slipped both inside the desk drawer, then left the study to wash up and make his way to the mess.

When Quaeryt stepped into the mess, he saw that the chamber was already almost completely filled, and all of the close to a hundred officers were wearing jackets. He recalled, if belatedly, that Jeudi night was mess night. He was wearing a jacket, but a scholar’s brown jacket was certainly not as formal as even the green jackets worn with undress greens.

“Your place is near the bottom of the nearest table, sir,” offered the squad leader by the doorway, “where the green oblong is. The far table is all for undercaptains.”

“Thank you.”

Quaeryt walked toward the nearest table, and located the only vacant place-where just to the left was a green cloth folded into an oblong. He sat down quickly.

To his left was a black-haired, thin-faced captain. “Greetings. You must be the scholar. I’m Haestyn.”

“Quaeryt. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Dueryl,” offered the undercaptain directly across the table from Quaeryt. “We wondered who was the new