the list you gave me.”
“Have you found out anything?”
Pharyl laughed, half humorously, half ironically. “Sometimes what you don’t find out tells you more than what you do. Paulam … he’s really a renderer who calls himself a factor, but a few people who reneged on deals with him had difficulties or accidents. Assoul and Dyetryn take advantage of those who have no options. No one seems to know much about Thaltyn. Aerambyr … who knows? They say he’s tough in dealings, but fair. The way they say it, I have my doubts. Then … there’s Lysienk.”
“What about him?”
“That’s what I was talking about. He has a place out west, not that far from the new governor’s residence. Not small, but not too big … but it has high brick walls all around it, and there are guards and dogs inside the walls all the time. Whatever he factors, he handles from there, in a separate building. The thing is, outside of finding out those few things … no one wants to say anything … nothing at all. They know more. They won’t say anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a thing.”
Quaeryt nodded. “Just keep listening. Anything else?”
“Just small details … those Pharsi women … they watch every patrol.…”
Quaeryt listened quietly and intently, pleased that Pharyl had been able to accomplish so much so quickly. He had no doubt that Hrehn had been part of the reason as well.
Pharyl had not been gone from the study more than a quint or so when the duty messenger knocked on the door. “There’s a chorister here to see you, Governor.”
“Send him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shortly, the study door opened, and Quaeryt immediately stood.
A trim white-haired man in a dark gray jacket, matching trousers, and polished boots stepped inside. He did wear a short version of the black and white chorister’s scarf. “Governor Quaeryt, I’m Chorister Siemprit.” His smile was wide and cheerful.
“It’s good to see you, chorister. Please sit down.” Out of respect, Quaeryt remained standing until the older man had seated himself, then settled himself behind the table desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Since my anomen is not too far from here, I thought I should introduce myself.”
“Where is your anomen?” asked Quaeryt politely.
“To the west, off the western boulevard. It’s only about three blocks farther west from where you’ve established the new governor’s residence. That was one of my purposes in calling on you-to invite you to join us. When you can, of course. I understand that you and your wife have many demands upon your time.”
“It has been rather busy since we arrived,” Quaeryt temporized, doubting that a mere invitation to worship was the only reason for the chorister’s appearance. “There was the need to reestablish order and provide food.”
“Your immediate generosity to the poor was welcome and most necessary.” Siemprit frowned slightly. “I did wonder why you required the poor to pay for flour and potatoes so soon…”
“We didn’t for the first few times, as you may know. Then we set the price at what it had been before the eruption.”
“Many could not pay that.”
“We were not strict. We provided flour to many for far less.”
“Still…”
“Chorister … unlike some governors, I am not a wealthy man. Nor was there much left in the provincial treasury. Nor, with Rex Kharst threatening from the west, does Lord Bhayar have golds to spare.”
“I suppose that is true…” Siemprit sighed. “It is always a matter of coins, one way or the other. I see you were trained as a scholar, Governor. I did not realize you also were a chorister. Where did you study the ways and works of the Nameless?”
Quaeryt smiled ruefully. “Where I could, chorister.”
“I’m told that you are very accomplished in explicating the ways of the Nameless.”
“I do what I can.”
“Being a governor and trying to restore order to Extela must take a great deal of your time. Yet you are acting as a chorister. Did you ever consider hiring a chorister from Extela?”
“In time, if it is necessary, I certainly will.”
“I’m surprised that you haven’t already. You seem to have accomplished a great deal in the time you have been here. Surely, hiring a chorister would not take that much effort…”
“Hiring a chorister probably wouldn’t. Finding one suited to addressing a regiment might well take time.”
“Your words suggest that you believe the Nameless regards soldiers differently from others.”
“I doubt that the Nameless makes any such distinction, chorister,”
“You’re suggesting that soldiers are a breed apart.”
“You don’t think they are, chorister? How many men have you killed in your life? How many of them were likely guilty of only serving a different worldly master?”
“How many have you killed, Governor?” countered Siemprit.
“I didn’t try to keep count, not after the first battles of the revolt in Tilbor.”
Siemprit’s forehead screwed up into a frown. “You’re a scholar.”
“That may be, but at the time I was a scholar advisor to the military governor, and I was ordered into combat.” That wasn’t technically true, because Quaeryt had only been ordered to accompany the regiment into battle, but he’d discovered that the only way to obey that order and survive had been to fight.
“Oh…” After the slightest pause, the chorister went on. “I hadn’t realized you had also been an officer, as well as a scholar, and princeps of Tilbor. Most princepses come from a factoring background, those that aren’t High Holders, that is.”
Quaeryt had not been an officer, but because he’d been accorded that status and had men assigned to obey him, he didn’t correct Siemprit. “Did you have a recommendation for a chorister here?” There wasn’t any point in not asking, and it just might defuse some of the chorister’s not-so-veiled polite hostility.
“My assistant, Neoryn, would make a most capable chorister.”
“That is good to know, and I appreciate your bringing his name to my attention. Once we get matters here more settled, I’ll have to meet him.”
“I trust that will not be too long, Governor.”
“No more than a few weeks, chorister.” Quaeryt rose. “I do appreciate your coming to see me.”
“And I appreciate your courtesy in hearing me out.”
Once Siemprit had left, the door closed behind him, Quaeryt took a deep breath.
He was still wondering if-and when-he should see the junior chorister when there was another knock on the study door.
“Yes?”
“Some documents for you, sir, it looks like.”
“Bring them in.”
“Yes, sir.” The door opened, and the duty squad leader stepped in and handed Quaeryt an overlarge envelope, one that clearly contained a number of pages within it, then quickly slipped out before Quaeryt could even say “Thank you.”
He opened the envelope and immediately read the short missive on top of the more than ten sheets beneath.
