squad of troopers to continue looking through the shambles that had been the governor’s building in an effort to find and salvage any records of any possible usefulness. He wondered if he should have tried such reclamation sooner, but it still seemed to him that he’d been right to place restoring order and providing food ahead of finding tariff ledgers and other records. He then had Skarpa assign several rankers to accompany Jhaylt while the chief clerk tried to locate and contact past tariff collectors.
At eighth glass on Meredi morning, Quaeryt rode to Aextyl’s dwelling to see if the old justicer had returned from Tulagne. Only half a squad accompanied him, since Extela had returned to an appearance of order, and since the troopers were better used in patrolling areas where the Civic Patrol did not have enough men to cover-and helping Baharyt and the engineers.
A sad-faced hound, chained to the side of the house, bayed once as Quaeryt dismounted, then watched him as he walked up the steps.
A narrow-faced woman whose blond hair was streaked with gray opened the door. “Yes?”
“I’m Governor Quaeryt, and I’m here to see High Justicer Aextyl.”
The woman’s eyes hardened, then looked past to the ten uniformed troopers, still mounted and waiting, one of whom was holding the reins to Quaeryt’s mare. After a moment she looked reluctantly back to Quaeryt. “He’s no longer a justicer, Governor.”
“I know that, but I would still like to see him.”
Another long moment passed. Then she sighed. “Very well. If you’d come in. He’s in his study.”
Quaeryt followed the woman through an entry hall that was more the size of a small vestibule and down a narrow hallway for only a few yards to an oak door aged to a deep golden brown shade. She stopped at the door, barely ajar. “Father … the new governor is here to see you.”
“Send him in, daughter. Send him in,” replied a hearty voice.
At the woman’s gesture, Quaeryt stepped into the modest study, more like a small library, with bookcases on every wall. The door closed behind him. The man who sat in the worn brown leather-upholstered chair had a lined face with sunken cheeks, wispy white hair, and red-rimmed eyes. Even so, those pale green eyes were intent and imparted a cheerful expression.
“Good morning, Governor. Do sit down. You’ll pardon me if I don’t stand.”
Quaeryt smiled as he seated himself in the straight-backed chair. “I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”
“Time … time … these days I’ve got plenty of that.” The alert green eyes continued to study Quaeryt. “Hmmm … a scholar. That’s what they said, but you never know. How did Bhayar ever have the nerve to appoint a scholar? Or is your father a High Holder to whom he’s beholden?”
“I was orphaned when I was barely more than an infant and raised by the scholars of Solis. I was scholar advisor to Lord Bhayar, and then a scholar to the governor of Tilbor, and then princeps there before Lord Bhayar sent me here. After I became princeps, he insisted I marry his sister.”
Aextyl laughed. “Rather the other way round than the path taken by most ambitious young men. They usually wed the sister or daughter to obtain the position.” He studied Quaeryt again. “You look more like a ship’s officer than a scholar.”
“I spent time at sea, six years before I returned to being a scholar.”
“So … now you’re the governor. I hear that you’ve already changed things. Any change is welcome, and if it took an eruption to get it … then things might have been for the best.”
“With almost a quarter of the city destroyed?”
“Scythn was destroying it already.”
“Was that why you stepped down?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Did he threaten your family … or just suggest that their health might be better if you left the justiciary?”
“You don’t have a high opinion of the late governor, do you?”
“I don’t know that he’s dead, but no … I don’t.”
“Might I ask why, Governor?”
“I think you know. He paid himself exorbitantly, let the patrol chief reduce the number of patrollers and pocket the wages not paid. So far as I can tell, it appears as though he received more than ten thousand golds a year, and I’m not certain I’ve tracked down all that he took.”
“I’d wager he extorted even more, but what do I know? I’m just a has-been high justicer who tried to keep a certain amount of justice in the application of the law.”
“That’s why I’m here, sir.”
“I appreciate your kindness, Governor. I can’t do it. My mind and spirit are willing, but my body’s not what it used to be. Come to think of it, it wasn’t what it used to be when I stepped down, and that was close to six years ago.”
“When Scythn became governor?”
Aextyl nodded.
“Are there any other justicers or advocates here in Extela who would make acceptable justicers?”
The old justicer barked a laugh. “You might as well ask if you could find an ox here that could wield a pen.”
Quaeryt paused, then asked, “If I have to act as justicer, can I pay you to sit beside me and help with the law and the precedents … at least for a time?”
“I might consider it for a few cases. That’s if you’d read Ekyrd’s treatise on the law. That shouldn’t be a problem for a scholar.”
“Reading it wouldn’t be a problem,” Quaeryt said. “Finding a copy to read would be, since all of the governor’s square is buried in ash and lava.”
“I have a copy you can borrow. Over there, the second shelf down, on the end, the maroon binding.”
Quaeryt rose, walked to the bookcase indicated by the justicer’s bony finger, and extracted the comparatively slim volume. “This one?”
“That’s the one. Read it. If you understand it, you’ll know more law and procedures than most justicers ever do.”
Quaeryt returned to the chair and sat down, still holding the book.
“Do you know why there’s no scholars’ house here? There was one, once, you know?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
Aextyl smiled. “That book you hold is one reason. The scholars had their apprentices copy it. Some of the local merchants and small factors read it. They disputed the findings and the handling of various trials and hearings, especially those dealing with some of the larger factors, particular factors, and one High Holder who, I hear, recently got so angry he suffered a seizure. No great loss there. Governor Scythn imposed a tariff on the scholars, claiming that the copying of books made them merchants. Other harassments followed, and then the scholarium burned in a fire. The surviving scholars dispersed.”
Quaeryt winced.
“You think that is strange, Governor?”
“No. It has happened elsewhere recently. That was what bothered me.”
“Knowledge held by those without power is always regarded as a danger by those with power.”
“That is why we have laws,” suggested Quaeryt.
“Everyone knows that power without law is tyranny, but they fail to recognize that law without power is useless. The laws here had no power. You are trying to change that. I applaud your efforts, but I fear you will fail, even with your ties to Lord Bhayar.”
“We will see.” Quaeryt smiled politely. “Will you consider advising me through a few hearings after I read this treatise?”
“I will consider it. I make no promises.”
“On another subject … what do you know about a factor named Hyleor?”
“Ah … Hyleor Cylonsyn. He was a supporter of Governor Scythn. He also owned and still does, I believe, a share of at least one pleasure house, if not more. I have not had the dubious pleasure of meeting him and suspect I am the better for that.”
