Princeps

“Captains … you might have some idea why I asked you to accompany me to see the patrollers. Both of you were recommended as possible candidates for positions in the Civic Patrol here.” Quaeryt turned and looked at Hrehn. “Would you be interested in becoming the senior captain if Captain Pharyl is the new chief?”

“I might be, sir.”

“The starting pay would be eight silvers a week for the senior captain and a gold and two silvers for the chief. Oh … and you’d be carried on the regimental rolls until you’d served your time for a stipend.”

Hrehn looked to Pharyl. “Was this your doing?”

“In a way,” answered Quaeryt. “Captain Pharyl was blunt with me. He said that the challenges of rebuilding the Civic Patrol would require a senior captain whom he could trust and rely upon. He indicated that he would not consider the position unless I committed to also hiring a solid senior captain.”

Hrehn laughed, warmly. “A man’d be a fool not to accept your offer, Governor. That’s if Pharyl accepts it.”

“Do you both accept, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt spent another glass with both officers, and then a quint with Skarpa informing him.

The commander laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sir. You can be very persuasive … one way or another.”

“I prefer honey to vinegar.”

“Vinegar’s sweet compared to your disapproval, sir.”

Quaeryt could only shrug, but he had to admit he hadn’t thought he was that hard. Are you? Then he thought about Wystgahl-except he still didn’t see that he’d had any real choice.

He had no sooner returned to the study when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”

The door edged open to reveal the duty squad leader. “Lady Vaelora sent a ranker back to inquire if it would be possible for you to be able to join her, sir.”

Quaeryt managed not to frown. Then he nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment … if someone could see to my mount.”

“Yes, sir.”

By the time Quaeryt reached the courtyard, the squad that had accompanied him earlier in the day was waiting, along with the mare and the ranker who had carried the message from Vaelora. In less than a quint, he and the squad followed the ranker out to the avenue, and then westward along a boulevard with a center strip that held trees and bushes. He couldn’t tell whether the ash had killed the vegetation or whether it was simply slow to leaf out after the winter.

After a ride of slightly more than a mille, the ranker turned north past a pair of large brick pillars. Quaeryt would not have called any of the dwellings along the tree-lined avenue either modest or small. All were of at least two levels, and none was less than thirty yards across the front. All were constructed of either black stone or reddish black brick, if not both, with slate roofs, and the grounds of roughly one in three were enclosed by walls over which not even a man on horseback could see.

Even from over a hundred yards away, Quaeryt could see where a mounted ranker waited in the street in front of a pair of open gates in yet another wall. When Quaeryt reined up beside the ranker, he saw the villa through the gates-a dwelling certainly not modest in any sense, not to Quaeryt. The two-story structure extended some seventy yards from end to end, and that did not count the stable situated at the end of the drive that ran from the gates to the covered side portico and then to the stable, also of two stories. Nor did it count another structure located against the rear wall of the property, although Quaeryt could only make out part of that, shielded as it was by the bulk of the villa and the slightly overgrown trees to the right of the open space beside the stable.

Only five hundred golds? Quaeryt took a slow deep breath and then rode through the gates and to the portico. Vaelora was waiting there with an older man in olive livery. Beyond them, in the area to the right of the stable, waited the rest of the squad, dismounted and watering their mounts from the long stone trough opposite the stable.

Quaeryt dismounted and tied the mare to one of the ornate iron hitching rings, then walked up the four wide black stone steps to the brick-paved and columned portico.

“Dearest…” Vaelora smiled. “I’m glad you could join me. This is Calachyl. He’s the steward for Factoria Grelyana. He’s been showing me through the villa.”

The steward bowed. “Honored Governor.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Calachyl.”

“It is my pleasure, sir. Would you like to see the villa?”

“Yes.”

The steward smiled and gestured for them to follow him.

The double goldenwood doors from the portico could have used oiling and polish, and the iron grilles that protected them showed traces of rust in places. Immediately inside was a square entry hall, some four yards on a side. An archway to the right opened into a small waiting room with windows overlooking the front garden, not that anything green was yet in sight. Opposite the archway was a doorway.

“That is the cloakroom,” gestured the steward, before opening the door, then closing it and moving out of the entry hall. “The receiving parlor is on the right, and the library and study on the left.”

Both chambers were large, five yards wide and close to ten long. Built-in oak bookcases comprised one entire wall of the study-the one backing up to the cloakroom-and in the middle of the outside wall were double doors opening onto the covered rear porch. A similar set of doors in the receiving parlor opened onto the front porch, also covered. Neither chamber held furnishings.

Quaeryt tried to note everything as the steward led them through the villa, showing them the formal dining chamber, the grand salon, the private dining and breakfast room, the kitchens and pantries in the rear, the grand staircase to the upper level, the master suite and bathing and dressing chambers, and six other bedchambers, and two bath chambers, as well as the upper level study for the mistress of the house. By the time they returned to the entry hall, Quaeryt briefly wondered why anyone would sell what he had seen for a mere five hundred golds, but then realized that the dwelling didn’t match what Vaelora had described earlier.

So how much is this? He decided not to ask at that moment. Instead, he concentrated on what Calachyl was saying.

“The servants’ quarters are separate in the building beyond the garden, and there are different cellars below for wines and produce, as well as a strong room.”

“The stable even has quarters above it suitable for your personal guard,” said Vaelora, “and there’s a separate hidden staircase down from the study to the strong room.”

Personal guard? That was another matter he hadn’t even thought about, but should have, since the regiment would be departing in less than a month. With each passing day, there seemed to be something else that being a governor married to Vaelora required of him. How many others would there be that you haven’t even considered?

He wasn’t about to even try to guess.

“I’m glad you thought about that,” he said with a smile. “Tell me more.”

“I will wait outside,” said the steward, bowing and then slipping away.

Quaeryt waited until Calachyl was out of earshot. “I don’t think this is the dwelling you mentioned before.”

“Isn’t it so much better?” asked Vaelora.

“I wouldn’t know. I never saw the other one,” replied Quaeryt dryly.

“Are you angry with me, dearest?”

“Should I be?”

“This is so much better,” Vaelora repeated.

“It might be so much more expensive also.”

“It’s only twelve hundred golds.”

Quaeryt managed not to swallow.

“That’s less than half what it’s worth.”

“So why is it priced that way?”

“Factoria Grelyana moved into a larger dwelling last year and needs the golds. She wants to present the