Princeps

“We’ve slept in worse,” murmured Vaelora. “Too many times.”

“And just as you begin to get things the way you want them…” Quaeryt let his words hang.

“Exactly, dearest.”

Quaeryt couldn’t blame her, even if he didn’t know what else he could have done in Extela. Or what else you could have done and lived with yourself.

One thing he did know. He wasn’t the kind of man who was comfortable in using the law to justify doing nothing when people were being hurt or killed. But … that might just mean you’re the wrong kind of man to be governor for any length of time.

59

On Lundi morning, Vaelora sat up in the bed barely big enough for the two of them and yawned, then looked at Quaeryt. “I am not staying in these quarters for two days. Or even close around them.”

Given how lovely she looked, Quaeryt tore his eyes away from her before he said something that was inappropriate and looked toward the shuttered window. “What do you have in mind? Tresrives is not exactly Extela or Solis, and we can’t use the horses.”

“I wouldn’t mind walking. Anything but sitting around here.”

“We can do that, I’m certain.” Quaeryt rose and strode to the window, adding, “If it’s not raining.” He eased open the inside shutter slightly and discovered that it sagged so much he feared it would rip out of the casement. Then he peered through the hazy glass. “It’s not even cloudy.” He gently lifted the shutter back in place.

“It wouldn’t matter if it were.”

Quaeryt nodded sympathetically.

“You’re being condescending…”

“Yes, dear.” He ducked and caught the pillow flung in his direction, hiding a smile.

“You can be most difficult, dearest.”

“You knew that before you married me.”

“I didn’t marry you. Bhayar did, and I had no choice in the matter.”

Quaeryt grinned and tossed the pillow back in her direction. “You weren’t complaining last night. Not at all.”

“You’re not just difficult. You’re impossible.”

But she was smiling.

After he dressed, while Vaelora finished readying herself, Quaeryt sought out Skarpa. He found the commander in a small conference room adjoining the mess, by himself, looking over maps with a set of calipers in his hand.

Skarpa looked up. “Yes, sir?”

“Any word about anything?” asked Quaeryt.

“Only a dispatch from Submarshal Myskyl stating that our presence is needed and requesting that Third Regiment take no more than two days rest in Tresrives before setting out for Ferravyl.”

“He’s a submarshal now?”

“That’s what the dispatch says, sir, and who am I to argue?”

“Neither one of us is in a position to argue at the moment,” replied Quaeryt warmly. “And since I’m no longer governor, and since I never was comfortable with you calling me ‘sir,’ please don’t argue with me when I tell you to stop it.”

“I could say, ‘Yes, sir,’” replied Skarpa, returning the smile, “but I won’t.” After a pause, he went on. “I know you haven’t received any dispatches, but do you have any idea what Lord Bhayar has in mind for you? After you get to Ferravyl?”

“Besides report? No. The last time I saw him, he was talking about what I needed to learn as princeps of Tilbor. He wrote a letter or two to Vaelora while we were still in Tilbora, but none of that mentioned me, except in passing. I haven’t heard anything since the dispatch I showed you.” Quaeryt shrugged.

“I was just curious.”

“As for today, I’d thought that we might ride around Tresrives, except I realized that wouldn’t rest the horses. So we’ll walk.”

“You can see it easily-the parts that you and the lady would like to see. Take the main avenue behind the middle of the piers.” Skarpa snorted. “There’s little enough here these days, except a lot of empty dwellings and buildings. I’m not sure there’s been that much for years, not since Bhayar’s family unified Telaryn.”

“That should make a comfortable walk.”

“I’ll send some rankers as an escort.” Before Quaeryt could protest, Skarpa went on. “You may not be governor any longer, but your wife remains the Lady Vaelora, and she’s Lord Bhayar’s sister. I’m not about to risk my neck by not protecting her.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“Good.”

“How long will it take to reach Ferravyl?”

“With good weather, at least a week. If it rains … who knows?” Skarpa looked at the maps again. “Planning where to stop gets tricky because we’re going in high water time and there are so many swamps and marshes along the river road-for the first hundred milles or so. After that, past the Great Bend, it’s just flat.”

“That should make traveling quicker, then.”

“If…”

“It doesn’t rain,” finished Quaeryt, smiling.

“I’ll have the rankers waiting outside the mess.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt stepped out of the chamber and went to rejoin Vaelora.

After eating breakfast in the mess, Quaeryt and Vaelora set off, walking eastward toward the piers, followed by four rankers at a distance of several paces.

The piers were largely empty, with only a single barge and one flatboat tied up at the second pier. A single guard appeared to be watching both.

“It’s almost sad,” said Vaelora. “It’s as if part of the town isn’t here. Why aren’t there more people here if Bhayar’s mustering troops in Ferravyl?”

“There’s no point in having them here. It’s too far from where the regiments are to support them and too close to Solis that it offers much of an advantage.”

The first shop opposite the foot of the westernmost pier was, unsurprisingly, a chandlery, if one whose weathered front siding suggested it had seen far better days. Quaeryt and Vaelora walked past it and past a second building, shuttered and seemingly deserted, then turned northward on what looked to be the main street Skarpa had mentioned.

The buildings nearest the piers largely held crafters, including a smithy, a coppersmith, a cooper, a rope factor, and a cabinetmaker. At the end of the first block, where there was a small square, was an inn with a brick and timber front, kept in better condition than many of the shops, and across the street from it, a tidy-looking cafe with a wide front window flanked by reddish shutters. Two pots of hyacinths were set on each side of the door.

“Given what you thought of breakfast and what you didn’t eat, we might want to come back later and eat there,” suggested Quaeryt.

Vaelora’s eyes flicked behind them.

“They could use a meal besides barracks rations,” replied Quaeryt. “It won’t be that expensive.” Besides the rankers need to know they’re appreciated with more than words.

The main street continued northward past the square, and then angled slightly right, to the northeast. Quaeryt noted a narrow shop that looked to be that of a seamstress, but said nothing, although he noted his wife’s eyes flicked in that direction.

“Even if she’s good, I likely couldn’t get anything finished before I have to leave.”

“I imagine there are better seamstresses in Solis,” replied Quaeryt.