and that he was only certain about believing in some of the precepts of the Nameless. Instead, he said, “We cannot be anything we wish; we can only be the best at what we are.”
Zirkyl nodded slowly, but then added, “Do not set your sights too low, master scholar.”
“See that you do.” The commander smiled before he turned and left Quaeryt with Skarpa.
“What do you have your sights set on, scholar?” asked Skarpa, his tone half-amused.
“Not to let thoughts of fame and glory impede what I wish to accomplish,” replied Quaeryt lightly. “And you?”
“I’d like to be an effective regimental commander.”
“You just might be,” said Quaeryt, smiling. “Do you want to join me for another lager? I think we can persuade them to serve us.”
“Yes … but I’ll take ale.”
The two walked back into the officers’ mess.
60
The sun was still above the hills to the west on Jeudi afternoon when Quaeryt rode up the paved road and through the eastern gates into the Telaryn Palace. The brisk winds that had cooled him on the last few glasses of the journey were a definite sign that the hotter weather was beginning to wane, even if it was only the fifth day of autumn. After two days of riding and practicing his shields as often as he could, Quaeryt was pleased that he could hold shields he was certain were strong enough to block a crossbow quarrel-if for less than a quint continuously. He had the feeling he’d need them every bit as much in Tilbora if not more than he had while riding patrols out of Boralieu.
He hadn’t sent any reports to Bhayar from Boralieu, but knowing that he’d be returning on a Jeudi, over the previous week he’d written a totally factual report of the events of his month at the outpost, mentioning his injury in passing, but offering nothing about any of his abilities, except an improved capability in the saddle, or any speculations whatsoever. He also had written a summary report of each week’s activities for the princeps.
He had barely dismounted in the stable courtyard when a young ranker hurried up.
“Scholar Quaeryt, sir? The princeps would like to see you at your earliest convenience.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.” The ranker hurried off.
After unsaddling and grooming his mount, Quaeryt dumped his gear in his quarters and retrieved his report for Straesyr, then hurried back to the second level of the main section of the palace and into the princeps’s anteroom. Vhorym looked up from his table desk, then stood. “The princeps will see you immediately, sir. Just go on in.”
Straesyr actually stood as Quaeryt entered his study. “How are you feeling, scholar? How’s that chest wound? I heard you’d been wounded on a patrol. The first reports weren’t that good.”
The princeps’s warm voice held concern, and Quaeryt thought that his ice-blue eyes weren’t quite as hard and calculating as usual.
Quaeryt felt fine, but he replied, “I’m still sore and bruised, but I’ll recover.”
“The governor was greatly concerned. He hadn’t thought you’d run into such an attack that soon. He’d recommended your going on routine patrols at first.”
“It was a routine patrol. Even Captain Meinyt thought so. There were only a few backwoods types. They had crossbows. We lost one ranker, and two others besides me were wounded. Two of the attackers were killed. I didn’t do too much, except talk to the officers, after I felt better, for the next few weeks.” He extended the sheets of his report. “Here is a consolidated report of the time I spent in Boralieu.”
Straesyr smiled and gave a rueful headshake. “It’s a pity you’re a scholar and not an officer. You’re intelligent. You get the job done, and you’re obviously durable.”
“I’m not terribly good with weapons, sir.”
“You think. That’s far more important for an officer.”
“There is one other thing.” Straesyr smiled, reached down, picked up a sealed missive off the desk, then handed it to Quaeryt. “This arrived a few days ago by courier. It appears to have been addressed by the same hand as the one awaiting you when you first arrived.”
Quaeryt took the missive and looked at the script. “It does look the same.”
“Without being too intrusive…”
“She is a young lady to whom I was introduced by her aunt just before I left Solis. She posed a number of scholarly issues, and I replied before I departed for Boralieu. While she is charming, I am a scholar, and scholars are not known for their wealth, and I have no family. I will, of course, continue to write, because a woman whose intellect is so sharply honed is rare.”
“You phrased that in an interesting fashion, scholar.”
Quaeryt laughed softly. “I have found little different in the basic ability of men or women to think. I have found great differences in the proportion of each who are trained to use their thoughts and faculties to the fullest.”
“My wife would agree with you, as would my daughter, young as she is,” said Straesyr dryly. “I will have to relate your observation to them.”
“Are they here in Tilbora?”
“My wife was not about to allow me to remain here unaccompanied. That may be suitable for a widower such as the governor, she said, but not for a handsome and intelligent man. We have quarters in one of the row houses beyond the stables.”
“I saw children…”
“Doubtless at least one of them was mine.” The princeps smiled again. “You have had a long day, and I would not keep you yet longer. You will be in your study in the morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Until then.”
Quaeryt inclined his head and departed.
As he walked back to his quarters to unpack and see what he could do about getting his garments washed, he thought again about the princeps. Behind the open mannerisms, Straesyr concealed a great deal, possibly even more than did Rescalyn. Yet his mention of his wife had been anything but casual, even as easily presented as those words had been.
Not until he was back in his quarters, which had been swept and cleaned in the last day or so, did he study the letter that bore Vaelora’s handwriting, although only his name and posting were written on the outside. Interestingly enough, he could detect no sign that the seal had been tampered with, none at all, and he finally broke it and extracted the sheets of paper inside and began to read.
Those words struck Quaeryt, and he reread them, then nodded.
