Given the results of her last “free” day at the post, Quaeryt had offered no objections. He only said, “Please keep your eyes open for anything that seems unusual or out of place.”
“Don’t I always?” had been her response just before she had mounted the gelding and ridden across the courtyard to rein up beside Major Fhaen.
Quaeryt stifled the wince he felt and smiled. “Yes, you do.”
Once Vaelora had ridden out through the post gates, Quaeryt went to the study he had made his own to meet with Major Dhaeryn to discuss the priorities for repairs to the city, especially those that could be done in addition to those on the River Aqueduct and the east bridge, both of which were absolutely necessary.
The first thing Dhaeryn said when he walked into the study and sat down stopped Quaeryt cold.
“We’ve had our first death, Governor … on the bridge.”
“What happened? Did some of the stones shift or something?” The last thing Quaeryt wanted was another complication, like the makeshift bridge collapsing before Dhaeryn was ready to start rebuilding it.
The major shook his head. “A foolish thing. I had one of the newer rankers checking the east shore piers. He was careless, slipped and went into the river.”
“He drowned?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Dhaeryn shook his head. “He must have swallowed some water wrong, because he was lying on the stones when the others found him. They thought he’d had a dizzy spell or something. But he was cold. Dead.”
“Then how did he drown, if he wasn’t in the water?”
“He got too much water in his lungs. I’d guess he couldn’t cough it all up somehow. You know, that’s how some old people die. My great uncle did. He got consumption, and there was so much water in his lungs he just drowned.” The major paused. “You don’t think it would happen to a young man, but it did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have sent someone with him, but the rocks down there looked dry and solid. You never know.”
“The patrol station … the factorage has been neglected, but it was well built. It won’t be fancy, but we’ll have something the patrollers can use in a week, maybe sooner. The bridge and the aqueduct … they’re going to take longer, and we don’t have enough men or equipment to handle anything else.”
“Then just work on those until you’ve done what you can.…”
After Quaeryt finished with the head engineer, while he waited for the group of patrollers first to arrive, he began to review the master ledger Jhalyt had created, albeit with his own improvements, based on the clerk’s experience and some of the samples he’d brought from Tilbora.
All too soon, there was a knock on the door.
“Sir … the patrollers are here.” The ranker looked around the small study.
“If you’d direct them to the officers’ mess, we’ll meet there.”
Quaeryt gathered Jhalyt, gave him instructions, and the two walked to the officers’ mess.
With Jaramyr stood five other patrollers first. All were in uniform, and all viewed Quaeryt warily.
Projecting both friendliness and authority, Quaeryt gestured to the table. “Please sit down, patrollers. This is my chief clerk, Jhalyt. We’ll need him to re-create things like pay ledgers.” Quaeryt sat down at the end of the table. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Governor Quaeryt. I was the princeps of Tilbor, and when he heard of the troubles here, Lord Bhayar sent me here to be governor. For the past few days, I’ve been having regimental troops patrol the streets. As Jaramyr may have told you, I have the regimental engineers converting a factorage in the southeast into a patrol station. We needed a building you could use quickly, and it’s also removed from the area where the lava and ash might strike again.” He paused. “I’d like each of you to introduce yourself and tell me what duties you handled as a civic patroller. Jaramyr … you can start.”
The burly patroller swallowed, then spoke. “Jaramyr Delonsyn. Mostly, I was the senior patroller on the beats along the river from about a mille north of the piers down to the east bridge…”
“Chelsyr Catholsyn … senior patroller on beats north of the governor’s square…”
“Waollyt Aolsyn … senior patroller … west end south of the old palace…”
When he had heard from everyone there, he asked, “Do all of you intend to continue with the Civic Patrol?”
Nods went around the table.
Quaeryt looked to Jhalyt. “Did you get everyone’s name?”
“Yes, sir, except I’d like to check the spelling, sir.”
“After we finish, please verify your name with Jhalyt. Now … it appears as though no one was patrolling when we arrived. That tells me that, at present, I’ll have to appoint an acting chief from the regiment. Who that will be hasn’t been decided. For the moment I’m acting chief.” Quaeryt looked to the youngest man at the end of one side of the table. “Reyol, what is the pay of a patroller first when he initially becomes a first?” Quaeryt projected a touch of authority and the sense that lying would be unwise.
“Ah … a silver and two a week, sir.”
“Chelsyr … a senior patroller first?”
“Tops out at two silvers a week after fifteen years, sir.”
With several more questions, Quaeryt effectively had given Jhalyt enough information for a pay chart. “Now … when you verify your name, let Jhalyt know your years of service. If I find out that anyone lies, I’ll put you up before a justicer for theft. Is that clear? Now … Chelsyr … you have a duty roster?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like you to go over that with Jhalyt afterward, with the names of patrollers likely to return and their ranks. You all will be paid. While you’re giving your information to Jhalyt, I’ll be getting your pay for the time from the Vendrei before the eruption to last Vendrei…”
All in all, the remaining details took close to a glass.
Then, after everyone left, considerably more cheerful, with coins in their wallets, and after more discussion with Jhalyt about revising the structure of the temporary pay roster for the Civic Patrol that Jhalyt and Heireg had created, Quaeryt had Jhalyt draft a set of tariff schedules and rules for Montagne, again based on the documents and records he’d had the foresight to have copied before he’d left Tilbora. That led to one other problem. Because Tilbor had been governed as a conquered province, all the administration had been handled by the regiment. In Montagne, as in all other provinces, the governor’s clerks were all hired by the governor … or the princeps … or the chief clerk, and that meant setting up another structure and set of ledgers.
When he returned to his own study, Quaeryt was still considering the possibility that such records might have survived, although his experience in entering the governor’s building had suggested that probability was close to nonexistent. Even if some had survived under the ash in the lower level, he doubted that more than a few would be readable, and he certainly didn’t have the time to go looking for them.
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?”
The two clerks eased the door open and stepped inside.
“Sir … there are several other things,” began Jhalyt.
“I’m sure there are.” Quaeryt grinned wryly. “What have I overlooked? Or what am I about to overlook?”
“Vendrei will be the last day of Maris, sir.”
For just a moment, Quaeryt wondered why the chief clerk was offering a calendar. Then he realized the reason. “We haven’t finished setting up the master pay accounts, have we?”
“I have the accounts set up, sir. The regiment keeps their own ledger, and so does the post. I know how much we’ll need. It’s a month’s worth for the regiment, and just a week’s worth for the post personnel. After Vendrei, we’d planned to disburse weekly for the regiment while they’re quartered here. That’s the way…”
“I know that. Have you drafted approval forms for me to authorize?”
“Mostly, sir, but I thought you’d like to see the figures. Also, you directed me as how to set up your accounts as governor, but you didn’t mention what your stipend and monthly expense draw would be … or what level…”
“Or what level you’d be paid at?” Quaeryt smiled faintly. “Caell was chief clerk, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
