Princeps

the concrete watertight. Otherwise the water will wear away the repairs in weeks. No more than months anyway.”

“Only that kind of clay?”

“It’s the only kind around here, sir. I understand there’s something like it in Antiago, but it’s more grayish there. They say you can only find it near volcanoes. I wouldn’t know. I do know that when we use the red clay, except it’s not quite like other clay, the concrete will harden solid even under water.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quaeryt admitted. “When will your men be able to finish the cells in the patrol station?”

“It might be Meredi. No longer than the end of next week.”

When he had finished talking with Dhaeryn, and the engineer left, Quaeryt turned to the supply major. “Are there any other surprises?”

“Besides what we’ve paid out for flour and potatoes? No, sir.”

“Good. Because I have one. I ended up agreeing to purchase a residence for the governor … and for every governor who follows me. We’re going to have to transfer some funds to a Factoria Grelyana.”

“The metals factoria. They say she’s wealthier than most of the High Holders in the province.”

“We need to make arrangements to pay her for the dwelling. Her former villa. The total comes to twelve hundred golds.”

“Jhalyt mentioned that he was working on the documents with the steward.” Heireg frowned. “For just twelve hundred golds? That’s a big villa…”

“Factoria Grelyana was charitable…”

The major raised his eyebrows.

“Call it self-interestedly charitable. She suggested the price was a favor. I suggested that Lord Bhayar had lost far more to Mount Extel than anyone in Extela and that increased tariffs to pay for things, such as to replace a governor’s residence, were in no one’s interest. She preferred golds to the villa, and no one else was likely to buy the villa anytime soon.” That was a guess on Quaeryt’s part, but he would have wagered that was so, particularly since the villa had been vacant for some time, from what he observed when they toured it, despite what Vaelora had said earlier about the lack of suitable and available dwellings. “It’s likely to be far less expensive-and take less time-than building one.” Particularly of that size in that kind of location.

“No doubt of that, sir. What about furnishings?”

“I don’t know yet. The factoria has agreed to provide some that were originally in the villa. I’ll have to have Jhalyt set up an account ledger for the residence and staff. In time, when the regiment leaves, I’ll also have to hire some guards.”

“Governor Scythn detailed some of the rankers from the post to the governor’s square.”

“I might have to do that for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t want to make that the permanent way of handling it.”

“I can see that, sir.”

Quaeryt could sense the approval behind the major’s quiet words. Every day you find out another place where Scythn was diverting funds or resources. Are all governors like that? What he’d discovered so far suggested that Bhayar needed a better system of governing the various provinces, and especially for keeping High Holders like Wystgahl in line, but even considering how that might be done would have to wait … for some time. And who knew if Bhayar would even consider changes?

No sooner had Heireg left than Commander Skarpa was at the door. Quaeryt motioned him inside.

Skarpa sat down and announced, “One of the patrols caught some young fellows last night.”

“The way you’re saying that, I have the feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“You won’t, sir. They’d tried to break into a house on the west side.”

“Women?”

Skarpa shook his head. “A factor from Solis. Well, he came from Solis, but he’s been here several years. His name is Hyleor. He and his brothers take delivery of spices from Otelyrn in Solis. Then they bring them upriver and sell them. On the return, they buy mountain herbs and send them downriver and ship them … wherever.”

“What happened last night?”

“Some locals dragged Hyleor out of his house and were starting to beat him. The squad rode up and ran them down. One of the men tried to gut one of the ranker’s mounts. The ranker hit him with the flat of his sabre. Knocked him cold. The problem is that he took a couple of steps before he passed out, and he fell on one of those pointed iron fences. The point went through his eye. He’s dead.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” asked Quaeryt.

“The young fellow who attacked the ranker was Versoryn. He’s the nephew of a High Holder around Ilyum. The High Holder’s name is Cransyr.”

“What were they doing attacking a factor?”

Skarpa shrugged. “No one seems to know.”

“Did they catch any of the others?”

“Just one. Versoryn’s brother. He claims that the rankers threw Versoryn onto the fence. He said his uncle knows Lord Bhayar well enough to have them all executed.”

“I’ve never heard of High Holder Cransyr.” Quaeryt laughed sharply. “Unhappily, that doesn’t mean anything. There are far too many that I don’t know. What did you do with the brother?”

“He’s in the brig here, and he’s not at all happy about it.”

“Did anyone see what he did?”

Skarpa shook his head. “Even the factor couldn’t say who attacked him-except for Versoryn. Hyleor recognized him because Versoryn had a scar across his cheek and jaw.”

“He didn’t recognize any of the others?”

“He says he doesn’t.”

“What did Versoryn do? Was he a factor … or what?”

“No one seems to know. He was well dressed. So is the brother.”

Quaeryt was getting a very bad feeling about what had happened. A factor had been attacked, but could only recognize one conveniently dead attacker, and both the dead man and his brother were well dressed, without any known profession, and claimed a High Holder connected to Bhayar as their “uncle.” “I should talk to the brother. Do you know his name?”

“Vhalsyr. That’s what he says, anyway. I can have the brig guards bring him here, if you’d like.”

“That would be best, I think.” Quaeryt understood Skarpa’s quiet suggestion that governors did not visit offenders, as well as a recognition that Quaeryt had once … and a hint that he should not have.

“Then, I’ll have the guards take care of it. They’ll wait outside.” Skarpa rose.

A half a quint later, a thin brown-haired man, scarcely more than a youth, stood before Quaeryt, his face holding an expression close to but not quite a sneer.

“Sit down, Vhalsyr.” Quaeryt projected total authority.

The young man seated himself, his eyes not quite meeting Quaeryt’s. “So you’re the new governor.”

“And you’re an offender caught as part of a group beating up an innocent factor,” replied Quaeryt, his voice level, sitting down behind the narrow table desk.

“He wasn’t innocent. He was using those Otelyrnan spices to drug girls so he could do anything he wanted to do with them. When he was finished with them, they went to his pleasure houses.”

“And how did you know that?”

“I just know.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“Everyone knows what he’s been doing.”

“And no one has said anything?”

“He paid off the senior patrol captain.”

“Who was that?”

“Faastyl. When he heard a new governor was coming, he left. They say he went to Nacliano.”

Based on his own relatively recent experiences in the port city, Quaeryt couldn’t say he was surprised-except a journey of that distance seemed unlikely for a patroller, even a senior patrol captain. Still, he made a mental note to have Pharyl inquire about both Hyleor and Faastyl.