“Ah … Caell did that. I only saw it once or twice.”
“I can give you an example, and we’ll work it out. That one we won’t worry about immediately.” Quaeryt turned to the other figure, scarcely more than a youth. “What did you do, Baharyt?”
“Just the supply ledger, sir. Mostly, I kept track of everything the governor and the princeps purchased.”
“You can do that here. I’ll be giving you more instructions as I know more.” Quaeryt paused. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the governor’s building. Everything. We’re going to see if we can reclaim things from it.” His eyes went to Jhalyt. “Tell me what was on each floor. Better yet … can you draw it out?”
“Yes, sir … I mean I can draw out where each chamber is … but aren’t they under the lava?”
“That’s what we’ll find out. But it’s worth the effort to see.” Quaeryt pushed the pen and inkwell to the other side of the desk and handed the older clerk a sheet of paper.
Almost a glass later, after he finished meeting with the two clerks and taking their drawings, Quaeryt was out in the courtyard, inspecting the wagon and the cart that he’d decided would accompany the second company from Third Battalion, commanded by Captain Eleryt. The cart held an assortment of hand tools, mostly shovels and a few picks, but also a sledge and a mattock, as well as several buckets and two pry bars. The high-sided wagon contained chains and other gear that he hoped might prove useful. Quaeryt had tucked inside his brown scholar’s working jacket four maps, one from the post, along with a set of directions as how to follow the streets, avenues, and byways so as to get as close to the governor’s square as possible before encountering the hardened lava. The second map was the one Vaelora had drawn the night before. Then he had the two drawings from Jhalyt and Baharyt showing what chambers were where in the building.
When the company formed up in the courtyard, Vaelora was mounted beside Quaeryt because, as she had pointed out more than once, “Who else do you have who knows that part of Extela any better?”
Quaeryt knew better than to argue with her, and besides, she did know Extela. There was also little useful that she could do at the post, and Quaeryt had long since learned that his wife did not like to be left alone with nothing to do-and that she’d soon find more than enough to do, and possibly something he’d be less than pleased about. His eyes drifted to the locked anomen. While he’d seen abandoned and burned-out anomens, he’d never seen one simply locked.
Vaelora followed his gaze. “I wondered about that, too.”
“I suppose I’d best ask the commander about that, too.”
“There are a number of matters that still need explaining,” murmured Vaelora, looking to him.
Quaeryt nodded.
“Ready, Governor?” called Captain Eleryt, as he rode up to join the two of them, easing his mount beside that of Vaelora, so that she was between the two men.
“Anytime.”
“Company! Forward!”
As Quaeryt and Vaelora rode out through the post gates, he looked to the northwest, toward Mount Extel. The sky above the summit was hazy, unlike the clearer sky farther east or west, as if fine ash-or something-still issued from the volcano.
“The whole top of the mountain is gone,” said Vaelora. “I couldn’t see that yesterday with all the ash and clouds.”
“How much taller was it?”
“It’s hard to tell. It came to a peak. It was snow-covered, at least partly, all year round. How much higher? I don’t know. A quint more?”
“Let’s hope all that rock and lava isn’t all on top of the governor’s square,” said Quaeryt wryly. His glance dropped from the mountain to the area of Extela that held the palace and the governor’s square, if under ash and lava. “Is the main avenue the best way to go? I’d thought so, but…”
From the other side of Vaelora, Eleryt leaned inward in his saddle, as if to hear what Vaelora said more clearly.
“It will be fine until we’re past the market square in the middle of the city. Then we’ll have to see.”
Quaeryt held his triggered shields so that they covered the two of them as they rode along the avenue toward the market square. Occasionally, shutters opened, usually those on second-level windows, but for the first mille from the post no one approached the riders.
Then a boy ran out from an alleyway, waving his hands. “Sirs! We need food! Please … please!”
“We’re working on that,” Quaeryt called back. “But we’re not carrying food now. We’ll be back later.”
“My ma is sick. We need food.”
Quaeryt could see the boy-barefoot and in a thin shirt-shiver. “Soon, but not now,” he said.
Another youth appeared, begging for food, and then another, followed by an old woman, and then another scrawny boy with a crutch. Then came an older man, with a long gray beard, followed by a woman in a worn and ragged shawl thrown over little more than rags. By the time the company had ridden another long block, there were scores of people on the sidewalks begging … but none of them stepped into the street, most likely because the troopers all carried unsheathed sabres.
As they continued to ride toward the center market square, more scores of people appeared, pleading and begging. Most were ill-dressed or ragged, confirming Quaeryt’s suspicions that those with food were either remaining behind barred doors or had already left Extela. “I don’t see many who are decently clad.”
“They’re the poorest,” replied Vaelora. “All they know is that they’re hungry. They don’t care that if you have to promise golds, rather than having them in hand, you’ll pay more for the food, and there will be less.”
“Or that I’ll have to threaten the High Holders to keep the prices down.”
“You’ll have to do that anyway.”
“You don’t think they’ll listen to reason?”
“The only reason they’ve ever listened to is the ledgers in their accounting rooms. That’s what Bhayar is always saying.”
“No. You need to know what you have to work with. You also need to know more about conditions here in the city. You also can’t spend too much on the poorest.”
Even before they reached the market square-appearing abandoned from a block away-Quaeryt could feel the warmer air … and see a rough expanse of blackened rock that had poured down the next street to the northwest, walling off the avenue. No one else begged from the sidewalks and alleyways as they neared the square, but he could see several shutters had opened, and one or two were ajar.
Once they entered the square, Quaeryt turned to Eleryt. “Have them halt here.”
“Company! Halt!”
Quaeryt turned to Vaelora. “Is there a way east and downhill that will allow us to circle around that?” He pointed to the cooling mass of lava ahead of them.
“There are many ways, but any of them could be blocked.”
“Then we’ll just have to try them one at a time.” He turned in the saddle. “Captain, I’d like you and two squads to stay where you are with the wagons for the moment. The lady and I will take the other two squads and see if we can find a better approach to the square.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let anyone get too close, either.”
“We won’t, sir.” Eleryt stood in his stirrups. “First and second squads! With the governor, under his direct command!”
Quaeryt turned to Vaelora. “Which way would you suggest?” He smiled, wondering if her foresight extended to picking routes.
“Downhill until we see a way back northwest,” she replied so sweetly that Quaeryt winced.
“Squads one and two! On us!” Quaeryt did not immediately look at his wife as he urged the mare forward to the end of the square, then eastward down a narrower street that sloped gently toward the river in the
