you.”
Laekyna smiled, shyly. Even so, the act transformed her face, and once more Quaeryt was struck by the similarity in expression between her and Vaelora, although the two were not at all alike in appearance. “He is most kind to notice.”
“One could hardly be less to the princeps,” said Fhaedyrk smoothly.
“That is true, especially if he happens to be the husband of the sister of Lord Bhayar,” replied Vaelora with a smile. “But, as I recall, Quaeryt was only a scholar assistant at the time, and that speaks to hospitality.”
“What can I say?” replied Fhaedyrk disarmingly.
“That you understand not all wisdom or power resides in those who are High Holders, perchance,” said Vaelora. “Or that offering hospitality is not conditional upon position, but it is better to act than to speak such. Of course, as a woman, that is merely my youthful opinion.”
Quaeryt noted that Laekyna was having difficulty concealing a smile.
“It is an opinion well worth considering.” Fhaedyrk paused for but an instant. “Do you have news on what may be happening in the west?”
“Only through my husband. It appears as though Rex Kharst may be considering actions hostile to Telaryn. What those actions might be is not clear.” Vaelora glanced to Quaeryt. “Is that not so, dearest?”
“That is indeed all that we know at the moment. We have been requested to prepare another regiment for deployment to the west, but not for what purpose.”
“What do you think of Thurlhold?” asked Laekyna of Vaelora.
“It appears tastefully impressive,” replied Vaelora.
After several more exchanges of polite comments, Fhaedyrk and Laekyna excused themselves.
Behind Quaeryt and Vaelora, the group of musicians began to play.
“We should dance,” said Vaelora quietly.
“Perhaps we should,” replied Quaeryt, “but I don’t know how.”
“That part of your education was neglected, dearest, but it’s not hard. I’ll show you how. You take my right hand in your left, and place your right on the middle of my back just above my waist…”
Quaeryt did his best to follow her instructions and her lead, but the best he felt he could have said when the musicians stopped for a moment was that he’d managed not to step on her feet or trip her and that he’d managed to look generally like he knew what he was doing.
Vaelora looked up at him. “You see? It’s not that hard.”
“No. Except that, without your instruction, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea of what to do.”
“Just a little.”
As Quaeryt and Vaelora walked toward the nearest sideboard, the musicians struck up another tune, one livelier than the one played before. Quaeryt glanced at the dancers, still no more than a score, and wondered if he’d ever learn the intricate steps that he observed.
When Quaeryt turned from the sideboard holding two goblets of white wine, he found himself facing a High Holder he did not recognize.
“Princeps … High Holder Heskhaeld.” The trim but muscular holder who addressed Quaeryt smiled politely. “We have not met, but the governor suggested that I talk to you.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Now that he had the man’s name, Quaeryt knew exactly what Heskhaeld wanted, and he doubted that the High Holder would be satisfied with what would likely happen.
“While a ball is perhaps not the optimal location for discussing matters of property, it is winter, and I so seldom can get to Tilbora…”
Quaeryt nodded and waited.
“… more than a month ago, I inquired about the purchase of a section of land adjoining mine-certain lands belonging to the rebel holder Saentaryn…”
Quaeryt nodded. “And you have not had a response and wondered when you might?”
“Precisely.”
“Those lands now belong to Lord Bhayar, and as princeps, I sent your request to him in Solis. As princeps, I have authority over supplies and other matters here in Tilbor, but not over Lord Bhayar’s lands. Any decision on those he must make, and he will likely consult with his finance minister before doing so. As this is winter, to get a message to Solis takes some time, even with military couriers … and a return message also takes time…” As Quaeryt explained, he understood, once more, how easily procedures could be employed to offer a negative response without ever directly saying “no,” although he had recommended that the lands not be sold for the present, given their proximity to High Holder Eshalyn’s coal mine. “… and when I receive an answer, you will be assured that we will inform you as soon as we can.”
“I can ask no more.” Heskhaeld bowed, clearly mollified, but less than satisfied.
Quaeryt slipped toward Vaelora and handed her the goblet of wine.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“He wants to purchase lands from your brother…” Quaeryt explained quickly.
“At a ball?”
“I’m only a princeps,” Quaeryt said wryly. “He obviously felt the courtesies don’t apply to me.”
“Lady Vaelora?”
They both turned to see another couple, neither of whom Quaeryt recognized, approaching.
13
Quaeryt had barely finished dressing on Solayi morning when the bells in their quarters rang so insistently that someone had to be yanking the bell-pull with either excessive enthusiasm or great urgency.
“Who can that be?” asked Vaelora.
“It’s not good. Not on Solayi morning.” Quaeryt turned and hurried down the private staircase to the access doors. He peered through the peephole and saw a squad leader he did not recognize standing there, most likely one on duty. Still, he raised his shields before opening the door. “Yes, Squad Leader?”
“Princeps, sir, the governor requests that you join him in his study at your earliest convenience.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there. You wouldn’t know what this is about?”
“No, sir.”
Quaeryt smiled politely and tried to use his imaging ability to project friendly and open curiosity.
“He did receive an urgent dispatch, but he didn’t say what was in it, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Quaeryt took the steps back up to their quarters two at a time and strode to their dressing room.
“What is it?”
“As I said, it’s not good. Straesyr just got a dispatch, and he wants to meet in his study immediately. The regular couriers never arrive on Solayi.”
“You’ll tell me?”
“As soon as I can. Save me some breakfast.”
“I can do that.”
Quaeryt bent over and kissed her neck, then made his way back down to the second level. When he reached the governor’s chambers, Quaeryt hurried in past the empty table desk where Undercaptain Caermyt usually sat. The governor did not rise from behind his desk, but motioned to the chairs. Straesyr was wearing an old set of winter greens, suitable for the chill of the study where the stove had not been fired up.
Quaeryt sat. “What’s the problem, sir?”
“There are several.” Straesyr’s mouth curled into a smile both sardonic and rueful. “Mount Extel … it erupted
