Princeps

Regiment left for Ferravyl. Part of his reluctance, he knew, was because he’d felt Siemprit was like too many he’d met in Extela. Even though the chorister had never spoken a word about it, Quaeryt sensed that Siemprit was far more interested in coin than in what chorister might be best for the officers and men of the regiment, something Quaeryt had never felt when he’d dealt with Phargos, the regimental chorister in Tilbor.

The business with Andryt and Lysienk concerned him the most … for more than one reason, including the fact that even if Lysienk weren’t an imager, the slimy factor was giving imagers a bad name.

He decided that he needed to ride over to the Civic Patrol station, just on the off chance that Pharyl might be able to tell him more. He left the study and walked down the corridor to the duty desk.

“I’ll need the mare,” he said to the young ranker standing there-not the duty squad leader, who would have been there most times. “I’m going over to the Civic Patrol station.”

“Governor, sir, you might want to wait just a few moments before leaving.”

“Oh…”

“The factor who came to see you, the second one, he had an accident.”

“What sort of accident?”

“He was going out through the gates. He got maybe thirty yards from the walls, and his horse bucked and threw him. He came down on his head. That’s where Squad Leader Daerk is, sir.”

Quaeryt froze for just a moment. “I think I’d better take a look.”

“Ah … yes, sir.”

Quaeryt did not quite run from the building, but he did walk as swiftly as his leg would let him, until he was approaching the squad leader and another ranker standing over a prone figure.

“Governor, sir.”

“What happened?”

Daerk turned to the ranker. “You saw it. Tell him what you told me.”

“Yes, sir. We didn’t see it, sir, not exactly, because that other factor was yelling at his men. They were over there.” The ranker pointed. “We heard the horse scream. When we turned, it was sort of … I couldn’t say … but the factor was on the stones. We ran toward him, and he was half muttering, half yelling, and then he just sort of stiffened up, and he died.”

“Did you hear him say anything?”

“There was something about an accident, but it didn’t make any sense. That was the only word that I could make out. I wanted to ask the other factor, but he was gone by then.”

“Do you have the horse?”

“Yes, sir. Over there.”

“Would you check it for tenderness or soreness around the hindquarters and flanks?”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt could hear the puzzlement in the ranker’s voice, but the man walked toward the two others who had a mount between them.

“You think something strange, sir?” asked Daerk.

“I just thought it might be a good idea to see if the horse was injured and that was why he threw the factor.” He glanced down at Andryt, who lay on his back, his face still in a half grimace, as if he had suffered great pain, and then died so quickly that the muscles had remained partly distorted.

Less than a half quint later, the ranker walked back to Quaeryt with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yes?” asked Quaeryt.

“Well … sir … there’s no mark anywhere, but there’s a place on the gelding’s rump where, if you touch it, he shies away. Has to hurt a lot.”

“Thank you. It might be an insect bite or something. Sometimes they don’t show.” Quaeryt knew it was likely nothing of the sort. “Thank you.”

He looked back down at the contorted face of the dead factor. He had no doubts how Andryt had been murdered-something imaged into the mount’s hindquarters, enough to make him buck, and then poison, most likely pitricin, imaged into Andryt’s brain.

And that meant he had an even bigger problem on his hands.

The rest of the day was filled with details and more details, but the notices were posted, the document copies made … and Pharyl sent a message informing Quaeryt that there would be another theft hearing on Mardi. That reminded Quaeryt to send one in return, asking Pharyl to look into the family and business affairs of Factor Andryt, since the factor had died in a strange accident.

When Quaeryt finally reached the villa, it was a good two quints past fifth glass, and Vaelora had a worried expression on her face when he stepped into the entry hall, after having unsaddled and groomed the mare.

“You look worried, dearest.”

“I am.” He glanced toward the archway and the corridor beyond.

“Rebyah and Alsyra are in the kitchen. Shenna has gone to see her family. Why? What happened?”

“Another problem of a serious nature.” He went on to tell her about his meetings with Lysienk and Andryt … and the results.

“That’s terrible.”

“Will Shenna be here tomorrow?”

“You’re not thinking of still having her meet with someone like that?”

“I am. I think it’s the only way to resolve the matter. It’s very important that she meet with him, and that not either one of us is present.”

“Quaeryt…”

“Dear … please.”

“All right … I know you know what you’re doing, but I still worry.”

So do I. “Sometimes, the choices are between bad and worse.”

“There are getting to be too many of those.” Vaelora’s voice was between dry and tart.

“I know. Can we enjoy dinner?” Exactly what else can you do right now?

Vaelora did smile, if faintly.

47

Samedi morning Quaeryt was groggy, but still managed to struggle out of bed, noting, as he had not the night before, that there was a more elaborate coverlet-which he had tossed back the night before. He also noted a pair of matching straight-backed chairs, one beside each armoire.

“It is looking better, don’t you think?” asked Vaelora.

“I do indeed.” He had to wonder about the costs, but Vaelora had not asked him for golds. Not yet, anyway.

He dressed quickly, as did Vaelora, but took his time over breakfast, so much so that Vaelora looked at him and asked, “Are you going to the post later this morning?”

“When will Shenna be here this morning? Remember?”

“She should be here anytime now. I still worry about her talking to Lysienk.”

“Don’t,” said Quaeryt. “He can’t get what he wants unless he talks to her. And I may need evidence from someone else…”

“But if he’s that clever…”

Quaeryt just looked at Vaelora.

“Oh…”

“There may not be any other way. Not given the way he’s done things.”

Vaelora nodded sadly.

What are you supposed to do? Let him image person after person to death? When there’s no proof that will stand up in a hearing? Quaeryt wanted to shake his head. He didn’t.

Quaeryt was just finishing the last sips of a third cup of tea when Shenna arrived. He stood.

“Good morning, Governor.”