Princeps

Quaeryt entered the small study, closed the door, then opened the envelope.

Governor-

On Samedi evening, a patroller team consisting of two patrollers and a patroller recruit saw a fight occurring outside a cafe facing the south market square. Because passersby were endangered, they broke up the fight. Then a male companion of the man the patrollers took into custody knifed the recruit in the back and then slashed his neck. The recruit died right there.

I had planned to schedule the hearing for tomorrow, but Advocate Caesyt protested that Solayi does not count as a day of notice, and I have scheduled the hearing for Jeudi, along with several other less serious charges.

Quaeryt set down the missive. Something like this had to happen sooner or later. Then he frowned. Since when could a cafe brawler afford an advocate?

He sat down at the desk and immediately wrote his reply.

Chief Pharyl-

Thank you for the notice about the unfortunate occurrence involving a patroller recruit and the scheduling of hearings. Doubtless the advocate is well versed in the precedents, and we should use his expertise in that matter.

I would hope that the hearing would reveal all the details of the event so that justice may be done.

Quaeryt had no doubt that Pharyl would understand what he wanted. He sealed the missive, then rose and walked to the study door, opening it. The young patroller stood there waiting.

Quaeryt extended the missive. “My reply to the chief.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get it right to him.”

“Thank you.”

Quaeryt didn’t return to the study, but made his way to the small room where the two clerks were already at work.

“How are we coming on reconciling Baharyt’s crafter and factor list with the old tariff listings?”

“There’s good, and there’s bad, Governor.”

“Start with the bad.”

“As many as one in ten of those on the old lists aren’t in Extela anymore, not that we and the tariff collectors can find them, anyways.”

Quaeryt nodded. “That’s not unexpected after all that’s happened. And the good?”

“We found almost a hundred shops and crafters and even fifteen factors that haven’t been paying tariffs.”

“But they likely won’t make up what we’ve lost?”

“No, sir. Maybe a third part. Might be half, but that’d be pushing it.”

“We’ll just have to do what we can.” In the future, he might have to ease up tariff levels, even with the lower level of spending he’d imposed, because the Civic Patrol needed to be larger, and there had to be more permanent troopers at the post. Both those were more than evident to Quaeryt.

When he finished with the clerks, a good glass later, he went to find Skarpa, to tell him about Zhrensyl, but discovered that the commander had the entire regiment out on “maneuvers.” Given that Third Regiment was headed to Ferravyl before too long, Quaeryt didn’t find that surprising. Certainly, Skarpa had been diligent in continuing training, although he’d said little enough to Quaeryt.

When he inquired after Dhaeryn and Ghaelt and discovered that they were already at the site for the governor’s building, he decided to ride there and see how matters were progressing.

The two engineers had staked out where the corners of the building would be, and were using heavy cord and stakes to mark out where the foundation trenches would be dug. Two small boys peered at the two engineers from across the street and beside a cart where a woman was trying to sell what looked to be knitted goods in front of a boarded-up shop of some sort. Once the building was completed, Quaeryt had no doubt that someone would either buy or refurbish the old building, most likely for a cafe or the inland equivalent of a chandlery.

He rode closer to the engineers and reined up. “You look to have it well laid out.”

“Not well. Not yet,” replied Dhaeryn.

“That’s a good way of putting it, Governor,” replied Ghaelt. “Look to-that’s if we don’t run into problems with the foundation trenches. And if we don’t hit an underground spring. Don’t expect that here, but you never know.”

“Do you have laborers ready?”

“Plenty of those around here, sir,” said Ghaelt. “Even masons aren’t that hard to come by. Finish carpenters, good ones, they’re not so easy to find.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help frowning. “Carpenters?”

“The good ones leave for places like Solis or the shipyards in Estisle … or they work for the High Holders, or they become cabinetmakers. Make a lot more silvers doing those things.”

Put that way, it made sense, although Quaeryt hadn’t thought of it in that fashion. “Do you have any men at the post with those skills?”

“Torkyn’s not bad, and we can hire his cousin, once we get that far along.”

Seeing as he was only slowing matters down, Quaeryt said, “Thank you. I won’t take any more of your time.” Then he turned the mare and started back toward the post.

At least, if bit by bit, he was making progress. Slow progress.

55

On Lundi night Quaeryt did not get to the villa until late, because he had to stay at the post late and offer words of farewell, as chorister, before Zhrensyl’s pyre was lit. He did the best he could for an officer he scarcely had known, as he tried to explain later to Vaelora.

Then on Mardi, Quaeryt spent the morning at the Civic Patrol station, conducting five hearings, four of them minor, requiring either confinement for a week or a few strokes of the lash, and a theft and assault requiring both a flogging and a branding. In that instance, the man convicted had grabbed the coin box in a public house while the two sons of the woman who owned it were within yards and then tried to beat the older woman with a chair he picked up.

Quaeryt almost felt guilty ordering the punishment of a man that foolish, yet someone that stupid was likely to do the same thing again … and again, and then find himself facing beheading, still wondering how it had all happened.

That evening, when he finally reached the villa, Vaelora informed him that she still hadn’t located a proper table for the villa’s formal dining chamber, let alone matching chairs, and she continued to fret over the lack of social interaction and the invitations they had not received.

“We were invited more places when you were just a princeps in Tilbor.”

“Tilbora wasn’t mangled by an eruption,” Quaeryt pointed out, even while he silently shared her concerns. “And factors and High Holders expect us to entertain, and we can’t. Not yet. You saw that in Tilbora.”

“I didn’t realize just how much you’d have to do for the city, dearest.”

“Neither did I.”

On Meredi, Ghaelt reported that the laborers had begun to dig the foundation trenches for the new governor’s building, and that there appeared to be no problems, but that it would be several days before he could be certain of that. Jhalyt reported that the tariff collectors had taken in over a hundred golds in the first few days of Mayas, and that cheered Quaeryt somewhat, given how many shops and factors had vanished under the ash and lava.

Jeudi morning, he made certain he was at the Civic Patrol station by seventh glass.

Pharyl greeted Quaeryt even before he reached the long duty desk. “Good morning, Governor.”

“You have that look, Chief. What is it?”

“We have another problem.” Pharyl walked beside Quaeryt, back to his study.

“Besides a dead patrol recruit?” Quaeryt closed the door behind them.