He couldn’t help but smile at that line. No one in Bhayar’s household led exactly a sheltered life. Protected, but not sheltered. He continued to read through her notes on several books she had read, and her pithy, if carefully couched, observations.
Again, the letter was signed with but her single initial.
As Quaeryt reread the letter, something else nagged at him, and he retrieved her second letter, and reread it quickly, then her original letter-and laughed quietly. While the logic and the validity and structure of the basic thoughts were still there, the second and third letters contained far more flowery and self-deprecating phrases and qualifications, phrases which he believed not at all, but whose purpose was all too clear. What remained unclear- and likely would for some time, perhaps always-was her motivation in writing. Did she feel so constricted within her palace that such letters were her only escape?
Quaeryt had no way of knowing, and he was not about to ask, not when he enjoyed receiving those missives-and replying-and when asking might offend her enough to cause her to cease writing. He immediately sat down to compose a reply, but only finished slightly more than a page before he realized it was time to eat-and that he was indeed hungry.
When he reached the mess, he stopped cold, seeing most of the officers in their jackets and realizing that it was mess night. He didn’t immediately see any of the officers he had come to know when he entered the mess, nor did he see Phargos, about which he was slightly relieved, although he doubted that Gauswn or the other officers in Sixth Battalion had yet had the chance or the inclination to discuss his homilies in Boralieu with the regimental chorister. He shrugged and made his way to his place, where Haestyn and Dueryl greeted him and immediately begin to ply him with questions. Those were cut short by Rescalyn’s arrival. The marshal’s words were brief, essentially welcoming back the officers of Sixth Battalion.
After Rescalyn’s words, Quaeryt bantered with those around him and enjoyed the seasoned roasted fowl with the rice and mushrooms in sauce.
When he returned to his quarters after the evening meal, he struggled through his reply to Vaelora, let it sit on the writing desk while he finished unpacking, and then reread it again.
From there, Quaeryt gave a brief summary of his patrols, then addressed her words to him.
Given Vaelora’s education and personal history, Quaeryt had every hope that she would understand the references, and the implications, assuming she ever received the letter-and that whoever read the correspondence before she did would not. If she did, then he had no doubts that she would inform Bhayar … and Bhayar was definitely not insensitive to the undercurrents of power.
Finally, he closed the letter.
He used the same closing as before-“In sincerest admiration and appreciation.”
Then he blew out the lamp over the writing desk, bolted the door, undressed, and collapsed into bed.
61
Tired as he was, Quaeryt was up early on Vendrei so that he could eat before handing his dispatch to Bhayar and his letter to Vaelora to the courier. He didn’t recognize the courier, an older and wiry soldier, but the rider’s eyes didn’t even widen at the address on the letter. He did accept the silver gracefully and with a quiet “Thank you, sir.”
Then Quaeryt went to his study around the corner from Straesyr’s anteroom. He sat there for several quints, pondering exactly what he should do next. To keep the local scholars in the good graces of Bhayar, the people of Tilbora, and the High Holders, he needed to separate them from the hill holders, in a way that wasn’t terribly obvious or embarrassing to the hill holders while retaining the good features of the Ecoliae. He also needed to verify his various suspicions about the governor, and he needed to determine more precisely the relationship between Straesyr and Rescalyn.
He looked up at the rap on the open door.
Vhorym stood there. “Sir? The princeps would like a word with you.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt rose and walked to the anteroom and into Straesyr’s study. He couldn’t help but notice, through the windows behind the princeps, that the sunlight falling on the north walls surrounding the palace definitely seemed weaker. “Yes, sir?”
“Have a seat, Quaeryt.”
Quaeryt sat.
“On Mardi, the governor will be riding north to join High Holder Freunyt for a luncheon. Since the High Holder extended the invitation to include others, the governor thought that it might be useful for you to accompany him. I also feel that would be useful. Your reports show you have seen the hill holders. You should visit a High Holder or two as well. The governor and his party will be departing at seventh glass.”
“I will be there.”
“I also had a pair of coats tailored for you. One is a jacket in the style of an undress uniform, and the other is a dress coat. You need to stop by the regimental tailor’s this morning to make sure they fit so that, if they don’t, he can make the necessary alterations.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You can wear the undress jacket when you accompany the governor and the dress coat to the factors’ reception on Samedi. Vhorym has your invitation.”
Quaeryt inclined his head. “I must say that I am surprised.”