Wystgahl coughed, once twice. “Namer-cursed phlegm.”
“You can’t make me change matters … Not even a governor can do that.”
“I don’t intend to do anything of the sort. I’ll leave you here, dreaming of your past glories that never were. I’ll deal with your son, who understands the responsibilities of being a holder far better than you do. You’re not a High Holder. You’re a greedy old man who’d cheat on the Nameless to get an extra copper.” Quaeryt sneered and image-projected withering scorn and contempt.
“You’re a worthless scholar … a nothing! A nothing, do you hear me? Nothing at-”
Quaeryt imaged water-just plain water-into Wystgahl’s lower windpipe as the old man continued his tirade.
The holder tried to cough and sputtered up some water. Quaeryt imaged more water, into where he thought the man’s lungs were.
Wystgahl staggered, then gasped, tried to speak, coughed up more water, then began to choke and convulse.
Gahlen rushed forward, unable to catch his father as the old man collapsed on the rich maroon and cream of the salon carpet. He turned his father over, half lifting him, then pounding him on the back.
Finally, he lowered the body and stood, facing Quaeryt. “You did it! You made him so upset!” He rushed toward Quaeryt, drawing a poignard and thrusting toward the governor.
The blade slipped aside off the shields, and while Gahlen gaped, Quaeryt imaged a section out of the tang of the blade, so that the weapon snapped with the second thrust.
“Armor…”
“Don’t!” snapped Quaeryt, reinforcing the single word with as much authority as he could order-project.
Gahlen stopped as though he’d run into a stone wall.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Quaeryt tiredly. “I offered your father a decent profit, but he was greedy. He wanted more. In trying to cheat the governor of Montagne, he was cheating Lord Bhayar. He got so angry he died. I’m not interested in pursuing the matter further … unless you make me. Enough people have already died in Extela, and more will likely die across Telaryn with the war to come. You’re now the High Holder. All I’m asking is for you to keep the bargain he didn’t.”
“But you killed him.”
“Oh? Did I ever even touch him? I only told him that he was selfish, greedy, and unreasonable and that I’d deal with you.”
Gahlen was silent.
“Your father sent fifty barrels of flour. Half of it was worthless. You owe another twenty-five barrels, and those had best be good barrels, and so should the remaining two hundred and fifty, as well as the potatoes. I also want a letter of apology from you for your sire’s attempt to cheat Lord Bhayar.”
Gahlen flushed. “After this…?”
“High Holder Wystgahl, and you are now High Holder … as I told your father, had any workingman or factor cheated Lord Bhayar-or you or your father-out of thirty golds, he would lose everything, possibly even his life. I’m only asking for you to fulfill what your father agreed to provide … and an apology. I’m not a High Holder. I’m a former scholar who happens to think that High Holders shouldn’t get away with crimes that would condemn men of lower position to death.”
“He didn’t get away with anything. Say what you will … you killed him.”
Quaeryt wasn’t about to dispute that.
No one said a word.
Once they had ridden out through the gates, Taenyd finally looked at Quaeryt. “What happened, Governor? They all looked at you as though you were the Namer in person.”
“High Holder Wystgahl became incensed when I accused him of fraud and providing weevil-ridden flour. He said that was what I deserved for forcing a sale. I pointed out that he would be making a profit on good flour, but that he’d defrauded Lord Bhayar. He said Lord Bhayar could afford it. I told him he was a greedy old man. He got red in the face, then blue, and collapsed. His son accused me of making him so angry that he died. That’s possible. He wasn’t in good health. But my responsibility is not to allow Lord Bhayar to be cheated.” Quaeryt laughed bitterly. “If you or I had stolen thirty golds from Lord Bhayar … or High Holder Wystgahl, what do you think would have happened to us?”
Taenyd shook his head. “I’d not even want to think about that.”
When Quaeryt returned to the post, it was less than three quints before the evening meal, and he barely had time to go to his study and complete the rough map of Extela he’d been working on-one that showed the undamaged sections of the city, those that would likely need civic patrollers-if and when there were enough patrollers.
After that, he hurried over to the officers’ quarters, where he found Vaelora coming down the outside steps.
“Did you have any luck, dear?” asked Quaeryt.
“There are several places. None is quite right. We can talk about them after dinner.”
From her tone of voice, Quaeryt was immediately convinced that not “quite right” was an understatement.
“How about you?”
“Angry patrollers and a visit to High Holder Wystgahl over his weevil-ridden flour. He got so mad when I told him his actions were unacceptable that he ended up turning red and then blue and coughing and dying on his expensive carpet.”
“Rather unfortunate for him.” Vaelora raised her eyebrows.
Quaeryt could see she understood. “You heard how unreasonable he was to begin with. He wanted to keep the good flour and sell it at an exorbitant profit and pawn off the worthless on us. I’ll tell you more after dinner.”
She nodded.
Both Quaeryt and Vaelora were unusually quiet during dinner, if for differing reasons, he suspected.
Afterward, when they returned to their quarters, after he shut the door, he turned to her. “What did you find?”
“Tell me about the High Holder first, if you would.”
Quaeryt did, ending with, “… I didn’t know what else I could have done. I’d have had to have brought it to Bhayar, because no justicer can try a High Holder, only the supreme justicer or a council of High Holders, except in Tilbor, and that may have changed already. They would laugh at the idea of trying a High Holder for defrauding a lowly governor for a mere twenty to thirty golds, even for more than a hundred if he’d delivered the rest of the flour in the same condition. Even if they didn’t, it would take weeks, if not months, to get anything done-and I don’t have the time to pursue that and do everything else. The High Holders in the rest of Telaryn certainly would have upheld Wystgahl because they wouldn’t have wanted to set a precedent that suggested they had to meet the same standards as mere factors.” He shook his head. “What bothers me most about all this is that if a factor or grower did what Wystgahl did, he’d be whipped within a digit of his life, and he’d lose everything, and possibly his life.”
“Dearest, he deserved what happened. He was arrogant, proud, greedy … and especially, he was stupid.” Vaelora’s voice turned cool. “There’s a reason Bhayar usually appoints the governors he does. It’s because they have some source of power besides the position itself. Rescalyn and Straesyr had huge numbers of armsmen. Other governors are the sons of powerful High Holders with close friends who have influence. Both Chaffetz and Aramyn saw that you represented power immediately. Chaffetz didn’t like it, but he understood. Aramyn knew before you
