sideboard.
“Sir?” asked the ranker in dress greens.
“The dry white wine,” replied Quaeryt. “Please.”
With the goblet in hand, the scholar turned and watched as the first factor entered the Red Room, a thin- faced man with thick and bushy gray hair, and a beard to match, wearing a gray jacket and trousers and a tan shirt. Straesyr greeted him effusively and talked for a moment.
As Straesyr turned from the one factor to greet another entering the Red Room, Quaeryt intercepted the first arrival. “Greetings … I’m Quaeryt and an assistant to the princeps.”
The factor stiffened for an instant. “Ah … Rewhar … I’m a brick factor.” After another pause, he added, “I had not thought to find a scholar … as an assistant to Princeps Straesyr…” The factor left the sentence hanging.
“That was not of his choosing. Lord Bhayar sent me from Solis to gather information.”
“A scholar to gather information. That makes sense. How are you finding Tilbora?”
“As it is … I hope.” Quaeryt smiled as winningly as he could.
“What sort of information are you gathering?”
“The condition of the province, its strengths, and its problems, particularly the difficulties posed by the hill holders.”
“They are not that much trouble … except if one wants to travel the hills.…”
“Do they trade much ?”
“They grow or hunt most of what they need, and trade their timber and silver for what else they require.”
“Silver? I was not aware…”
Rewhar smiled. “They would prefer that few know of that. Holder Waerfyl and Holder Saentaryn have mines on their lands. So does Zorlyn, but his lands are much farther into the Boran Hills. His mines are also much richer.”
“Zorlyn … that sounds familiar, but I couldn’t say why…” Quaeryt had never heard of Zorlyn. At least, he didn’t think so.
“Oh … he’s the one that no one knows beyond his name. One of his youngest sons-and going through three wives, he has many-is a scholar.” Rewhar frowned. “He’s the princeps of that scholars’ place…”
“The Ecoliae?” At that moment, the connection struck Quaeryt-Zarxes Zorlynsyn. He didn’t want to mention the name Zarxes, because no one at the palace or in Tilbora had ever mentioned Zarxes by name.
“That’s it. The fellow’s name … I can’t remember, but it has to start with ‘Z.’ Zorlyn names all his sons something beginning with ‘Z.’ I heard that somewhere.” Rewhar glanced past Quaeryt toward the serving table.
“Don’t let me keep you from enjoying the food. I did find the small mutton rolls and the pate quite tasty. The sauce on the pickled sliced eggs is rather highly spiced.” Quaeryt smiled again and gestured toward the table.
The next two factors to enter and greet the princeps were careful to avoid Quaeryt, and he decided to wait until more had arrived. When a good fifteen or so had appeared, he moved toward a pair standing somewhat away from those clustered around the serving table.
“Honorable factors … I’m Quaeryt, the scholar assistant to the princeps. I was sent here from Solis by Lord Bhayar to offer aid to the princeps and to gather information.” He smiled.
“Oh…” replied the taller factor. “Jussyt … I’m not really a factor so much as a quarryman who became fortunate enough to discover better ways of splitting and dressing stone. They all claim I’m a factor, though. Even Raurem here.”
Quaeryt turned to the shorter man.
“Produce, especially apples and the rough grains. But apples … they’re the most notable fruit of Tilbor. More varieties grown here than anywhere in Lydar. Better, too. It’s a pity we can’t ship them farther away than the east coast without drying them.” Raurem shook his head.
“What’s the best eating apple?”
“Ah … that depends on when you eat it. Right off the tree or in a day or two, it’d be the black thorn. The best keeper, to eat, that is, is the red mottled, and that’ll keep most of the winter in a tight cold cellar, but not one that’ll freeze them. You’ll just have mush that way…”
Quaeryt smiled and kept listening, wondering how much he’d remember about the apples of Tilbor. Then he learned about the gray split slate-the best roofing slate in all Lydar, according to Jussyt. Since neither seemed inclined to discuss scholars, after a time, he slipped away and talked to others, each more than willing to discuss what they did.
Almost a glass later, he eased up to an angular factor, whose left eye had a pronounced tic, but before he could say a word, the other spoke.
“You’re the scholar … apparently most unlike those in Tilbor … from what I hear.”
“I couldn’t say, not yet. I’m Quaeryt.”
“By the way,” the factor grinned, “I’m Cohausyt. We have the sawmills north of Tilbora on the river.”
“Most seem … reluctant to discuss the scholars resident here.”
“That is because it is either unwise to do so, or, if one is a High Holder … unnecessary.”
“Unwise?” Quaeryt did his best to look puzzled.
“Some of those scholars have ties to the hill holders, and they pursue … other goals, although it is said that one of those most rumored to be … less scholarly … recently vanished.”
“They actually bear arms and do … other unseemly things?”
“We have no need of an assassins’ guild here, as they do in Antiago, not with scholars such as those.”
Quaeryt winced. “That troubles me. Scholars have a difficult enough time as it is. To have a group behaving so…”
“It troubles many in Tilbora as well.” Cohausyt leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Can you tell me why the governor ignores such a pox?”
“I did not know that the local scholars were such a pestilence. Because I did not, I never inquired into the matter. I had heard that those here on Lord Bhayar’s service were not to deal with the scholars. I had thought that was because Lord Bhayar has always said that his ministers were to leave the scholars alone unless they broke the laws of the land…”
“Would that…” Cohausyt shook his head. “Enough said.”
“I will look into the matter,” promised Quaeryt.
“I would that you would … but not because any have suggested it.”
“I will only say that I overheard some remarks, but could not determine who made them.”
For the next two glasses, Quaeryt mixed, mingled, conversed, and mainly listened. While there were more allusions to the local scholars, none of those factors said more, nor did Quaeryt press them. All in all, by the time the last factor left, he felt exhausted. So did Straesyr, he suspected, because the princeps merely said, “We’ll talk on Lundi.”
That was fine with Quaeryt.
63
On Solayi, Quaeryt took the mare for a ride, telling himself that he needed to try to locate some of the factorages belonging to those whom he had met at the reception. While that was partly true, he also felt he needed to escape the confines of the palace. He did indeed locate Cohausyt’s sawmills and saw from a distance stone quarries that might have belonged to Jussyt.
He returned in time to write up his weekly report for Straesyr and then went to the evening meal, and, because he had not been around during the day, he also attended the evening services, presided over by Phargos. Most of the regimental chorister’s homily was forgettable, but one phrase did catch Quaeryt’s attention and linger in his thoughts.
“… if there were no higher power, men would do what they would, for then there would be no spirit to face
