“Simply that no one is to leave the Ecoliae until I finish talking with the Master Scholar or, in his absence, the scholar princeps. In carrying out that order, have your men try not to do serious harm to anyone-unless the scholar attempts to do violence to any ranker.”
“Yes, sir. Not doing harm unless threatened-that’s a standing order. Anything else?”
Quaeryt thought. “Some of the scholars are trained in Sansang. You might caution your men that empty- handed scholars or those with a half-staff can also be dangerous.” He hoped Gauswn didn’t press him for details on how he knew. He’d rather not evade or lie.
Gauswn turned to the lead ranker riding behind him. “Did you hear that, Fhenoyt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pass that back to the other squads.” Gauswn returned his attention to Quaeryt.
Little more than a glass later, the company reached the base of the hill that held the Ecoliae and started riding up the brick-paved lane, with two scouts before Quaeryt and the undercaptain. Several scholars standing on the front section of the wide covered porch surrounding the main building of the Ecoliae turned and watched as the company of troopers rode from the brick-paved lane and stationed themselves by squads around the main building, positioned to watch the stables as well.
Accompanied by two rankers, Quaeryt rode forward and reined up short of the hitching ring before the front steps, whose bricks still needed repointing. He dismounted and handed the mare’s reins to the nearest ranker, then turned toward the steps.
“This is a place of learning. Do not enter if you have aught else on your mind,” declared the sharp-faced, dark-haired scholar who stood before the front steps, half-blocking the way.
For a moment, Quaeryt struggled to place the scholar. Then he laughed. “That precept doesn’t apply to this House of Scholars, Alkiabys. Not after all that you and Chardyn have done.”
“It is still a House of Scholars, and you are no scholar.”
“I’m far more a scholar than you or Chardyn. Stand aside. I’m only going to talk to Phaeryn and Zarxes … by myself. The troopers are here to see that no one leaves.”
Alkiabys stepped back, but Quaeryt strengthened his shields slightly, and made them more sensitive before walking up the steps. As he started to cross the porch, he saw Nalakyn stepping from the center door, his face creased in puzzlement.
“Wait here on the porch, Scholar Nalakyn … if you would.” Quaeryt softened the last few words before entering the center door.
Both Phaeryn and Zarxes stood in the foyer, waiting for him.
“The prodigal scholar…” offered Zarxes sarcastically.
“No … just the scholar assistant to the princeps of Tilbor.”
“Might I ask exactly why you are here, and under what authority?” asked Phaeryn.
“The authority is that of Lord Bhayar, as approved by Governor Rescalyn. Do you think that anyone could arrive with a company of Telaryn troopers without the governor’s approval?”
“There is that,” agreed the silver-haired Master Scholar. “Your response, however, begs the question as to why the governor has any interest at all in a group of near-impoverished scholars who have done little but study and teach.”
“I do so appreciate your definition of ‘little,’ Master Scholar Phaeryn.” Quaeryt coated his words with irony. “I came to talk to you.”
“Then we should repair to my study so that we do not disturb the other scholars,” replied Phaeryn.
“Perhaps we should.” Quaeryt sensed that was exactly what the other two wanted, but, if matters went as he planned, that would serve his purposes as well.
Zarxes’s eyes twitched, as if he had wanted to look to Phaeryn, but had decided against it.
“This way,
“It is, indeed, and always has been.” Quaeryt followed the two down the corridor to an open door … and inside.
Zarxes shut the door, deftly sliding the bolt, then stepped over beside Phaeryn.
The study was modest in size, if richly paneled in what Quaeryt thought was walnut. A wide desk was set forward of and between two windows flanked by dark green hangings, and three straight-backed chairs faced the desk. The side wall to Quaeryt’s right, as he faced the desk, was composed of floor-to-ceiling shelves, although less than a third of the space actually contained books. The wall to his left also held shelves. Two armchairs were set before the shelves on the left.
The silver-haired Phaeryn smiled politely. “You might explain why you need all those troopers if you are here merely to talk.”
“Oh … they’re just here to assure that we do talk. Some people, even scholars, have an aversion to discussing certain matters.”
“Might I assume the disappearance of Scholar Chardyn was your doing?” asked Zarxes.
“He disappeared? That would almost be a pity, except for the fact that he was a part of the botched efforts of the Pretender. As for assumptions, you can assume what you wish. All I know is that, if Scholar Chardyn vanished, it was a result of his own acts.”
“He disappeared in the middle of the night on the same night you departed … and you had nothing to do with it? That’s rather unlikely.”
“I never said I had nothing to do with it. I intimated that his disappearance was the result of his own decisions. Someone lurked in my room that night. I suspect that Scholar Chardyn discovered that I had been appointed scholar assistant to the princeps of Tilbor. I also suspect he knew what I had discovered.” Quaeryt smiled.
“Oh?” asked Phaeryn smoothly, moving toward one of the armchairs, against which rested what appeared to be a walking stick, but was more likely a half-staff. “And what was this dark and mysterious secret you discovered?”
Quaeryt smiled politely as Zarxes took a position before the other armchair, where another half-staff rested. “It was no secret to either of you. Actually, there were several secrets. One was the fact that you’d made several unsuccessful attempts to murder High Holder Fhaedyrk. Another was that you-or, more directly, Chardyn-were behind the bloody attack on Governor Fhayt. That didn’t include-”
Both Zarxes and Phaeryn attacked with their Sansang half-staffs. The staffs impacted his shields, and rebounded. Phaeryn’s dropped from his hands, while Zarxes dropped his and, drawing a wide-bladed knife from under his brown jacket, turned and slashed Phaeryn’s throat, then dropped the knife.
For a moment, that act froze Quaeryt. In that moment, Zarxes turned, took three steps to the shelves, and reached out. The shelves swung aside, revealing a circular staircase.
Quaeryt rushed toward the staircase, but the shelves closed with a dull thud.
He tried pressing or pushing where he’d seen Zarxes put his hand-on a seemingly ornamental protrusion on the bracket holding a lamp-but nothing happened. He glanced back at the still-struggling Phaeryn, whose bloody hands came away from his neck as he pitched forward, dying, if not already dead.
Quaeryt tried to image part of the mechanism away, but nothing happened except that his head felt like it would split where he stood.
Quaeryt sprinted to the study door, fumbled with the bolt, then flung open the door and sprinted down the corridor and out onto the porch. As he started across the porch to issue orders to Gauswn, a figure with a half- staff launched himself at Quaeryt, only to rebound from the scholar’s shields. Quaeryt ignored the interruption as he stopped at the edge of the porch. “Gauswn! Send a patrol out to look for a scholar with silver-blond hair and beard! That’s Zarxes. He killed the Master Scholar. Have them capture any scholar they see away from the scholarium. Then report back to me inside.” Then he whirled and jabbed a finger at the middle-aged and gray- haired scholar who stood waiting. “Nalakyn-find me a sledge and an ax! Bring them to the Master Scholar’s study! Now!”
The scholar paled, then swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt thought that Zarxes had probably used the hidden staircase to access an escape tunnel, if one happened to be located near the staircase. Quaeryt had few doubts about that, but he needed to make certain, just on the off chance that Zarxes was holed up down below.
