“Is Chaffetz the most powerful?”
“Don’t know as he’s the most powerful. Namer knows, he’s the most stubborn. Don’t go to him unless there’s nowhere else to turn.”
“Where is his holding?”
“He’s got lands everywhere. His chateau is some three milles due south, off the stone post road to Solis that follows the river until it crosses at the bridge some twenty milles south.”
“Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t visit those three and see whether they’d be amenable to selling some more provisions-at a decent price, that is?”
Heireg laughed gruffly. “You’d be the first governor to try, sir. Least in my time here. You get even close to a decent price from any of them, and I’d write a letter to Lord Bhayar spouting your praises.”
Quaeryt laughed. “I think you’ve made your point, Major.”
“Any other questions, sir?”
“Just a few. Do you know how many loaves of bread can be baked out of the flour in a single barrel?”
Heireg smiled broadly and shook his head. “The cooks and I go round over that. Should be around four hundred and a quint, according to their measurements. The best they ever do, from my figuring, is a shade over four hundred.”
“How much flour do you have now here at the post?”
“Three hundred barrels. With your full regiment, we’ll use close to two barrels a day.”
When Quaeryt finished asking questions, he thanked Heireg and left.
As he walked across the courtyard to join Vaelora, he knew one thing for certain. He was going to need a lot more flour … and that was just the beginning.
Nearly a glass and two quints later, Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Undercaptain Jusaph rode behind the scouts and ahead of the body of Third Battalion’s first company as they made their way up the gravel drive to the chateau of High Holder Chaffetz. A handful of men scrambled from out of a side gate toward the main entry, then came to a halt as they beheld the Telaryn uniforms and the company ensign.
Besides checking his shields and easing the mare closer to Vaelora’s gelding, Quaeryt ignored the handful of men-at-arms and reined up opposite the main center entrance to the old-style three-story chateau, with its thick stone walls and narrow windows on the two lower levels, and wide windows on the third level.
Then, after Jusaph drew up the company in formation facing the chateau, Quaeryt dismounted, handed the mare’s reins to the ranker who rode forward to take them, and walked up toward the entrance.
One of the iron doors opened, and a muscular figure in blue and white livery stepped out to meet Quaeryt. “High Holder Chaffetz is not presently available, sir.” The functionary glanced at Undercaptain Jusaph and the company drawn up along the gravel drive. “Would you be interested in talking with the steward?”
Quaeryt smiled politely. “I might send Major Heireg to see him, but my business is with the High Holder.”
“Sir…”
“I don’t believe that you offered me the chance to make myself clear. As the new governor of Montagne, I am here to see High Holder Chaffetz. If I find it difficult to see him, in turn, he will find it difficult to see me.”
The man froze for a moment.
“It might be best if you looked more closely inside the holding to see if he might be found to be available.” Quaeryt’s voice was pleasant. “Oh … and since my wife accompanied me, perhaps the lady of the chateau might wish to meet her while I discuss various matters with the High Holder.”
“I will inquire within, Governor, to see if I might have been mistaken. In the meantime, if you would care to enter…”
“I will wait. There is little point to entering if Lord Chaffetz cannot be found.”
When the door closed behind the functionary, Quaeryt turned and walked back to where Vaelora remained mounted.
“If he does not find the High Holder, and quickly, he is more of an idiot than he first appeared,” murmured Vaelora.
“It is clear that the post of governor here has not been what it should be. That is something we must remedy. Now … under the guise of chatter…”
“I’m to let slip who I am and that you are a longtime boyhood acquaintance of my brother,” finished Vaelora.
“Exactly … and anything else that will quietly terrify his wife or daughter or whoever entertains you.”
Vaelora just smiled.
Less than half a quint passed before the iron doors-both of them-opened, and a man and a woman appeared.
“Governor … Lady … welcome to Chaffhyem,” declared the man, his voice a resonant tenor. “We had not expected you, or we certainly would have prepared a more appropriate welcome.”
Quaeryt held out a hand for Vaelora to dismount. She did so gracefully, and delicately, rather than in the athletic and more powerful manner with which Quaeryt was most familiar. Then the two of them advanced.
“High Holder Chaffetz, I am Quaeryt, and this is my wife, the Lady Vaelora.” Quaeryt could sense the puzzlement behind Chaffetz’s polite smile as the High Holder took in Quaeryt’s brown scholar’s garb. “We arrived in Extela late on Mardi, and this is the first moment we have had to call on you. I do apologize for the suddenness, but I fear that you and I have matters of a less than routine matter to discuss. My wife prevailed on me to let her accompany me, and since it has been many years since she was last here, I had hoped that she and your lady might have a chance to become acquainted while we discuss more serious matters.”
“Of course … of course. Do come in.”
Quaeryt ignored Chaffetz’s forced heartiness, and he and Vaelora followed the couple inside the chateau. He did keep light shields around them both, just in case, although he doubted that Chaffetz was likely to be hasty in any action.
Once inside, they stood in an entry hall some five yards wide and less than ten deep, with a polished floor of black stones set in white mortar. Beyond the entry hall was a grand staircase and, just before it, a corridor that ran the length of the chateau, one branch to the left, the other to the right.
“If you would accompany us…” Chaffetz gestured to the staircase.
“Thank you.”
At the top of the wide staircase, also of black stone, if with balustrades of well-polished and ancient goldenwood, the High Holder’s wife escorted Vaelora to the left.
Chaffetz led Quaeryt to the right, past two closed doors and to a third that was open to a long and narrow study. Only the side walls held floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and the wood was of old oak. There were three wooden armchairs, if with leather padded seats, around a small table at one end of the chamber, and a desk with a similar chair behind it at the other end. Chaffetz gestured to the table and took one of the chairs, seating himself easily and immediately. Quaeryt took the one that left the third chair between them.
“For a call of courtesy, Governor … ah…”
“Quaeryt.” Quaeryt ignored the fact that Chaffetz had not offered any form of refreshment.
“Governor Quaeryt,” Chaffetz continued smoothly, “I am surprised that you found it necessary to bring such … an entourage, and even your wife.”
“As you may have heard, the lava rendered the old palace and the governor’s quarters uninhabitable, and I thought my wife might appreciate seeing a place of more refinement than the senior officers’ quarters at the south compound.”
“Ah … yes.” After the briefest hesitation, Chaffetz went on. “I don’t believe I’ve ever known a governor who had your apparent … training.”
“As a scholar? No. There have been few.” None, in fact, of whom Quaeryt knew. “But Lord Bhayar felt my background would be useful here in dealing with the problems.”
“Where were you before, if I might inquire?”
“I was princeps of Tilbor.”
“Ah … that explains it. You have both knowledge and experience in dealing with supplies and disorder. Tell me. Have you known Lord Bhayar long? In a close personal sense, I mean? I can recall when he summered here as a youth.” Chaffetz smiled warmly, but condescendingly.
