way that will help settle Bovaria down and get them to understand Bhayar is here to stay.”
“You do have that talent, dearest,” murmured Vaelora in such a low tone Quaeryt doubted the others had heard.
“I’d like to hear about what each of you needs for your men and mounts,” Quaeryt said quickly, “and what supplies you think we’ll need, especially anything we might not find in smaller towns. There aren’t likely to be many larger towns along the Phraan because it’s shallower and narrower than the River Laar.”
And most trade under Kharst and previous rulers relied on the rivers.
He looked to Khaern. “If you’d start, Subcommander.”
Quaeryt had no doubt that he and Vaelora would be listening for a time, but he needed to know what was necessary as soon as possible.
10
Much as he wanted to stay in bed on Meredi morning, Quaeryt was up early, worrying about everything from provisions to getting to the factors’ council. While he still had over three hundred golds from what Skarpa had sent, that was not much, even if he spent it only on supplies, not for fifteen hundred troopers. And he was only paying half the going rate. He didn’t want to commandeer the provisions, but he also wanted to get the point across that the merchants and factors would have to shoulder some costs beyond token tariffs.
Accompanied by a half squad from first company, he did manage to rein up in front of the small, two-story brick building off the lower main square in Daaren just before eighth glass. There was no sign or inscription on the structure, but Quaeryt recalled it from the last visit, if only because it was the sole unidentified building around the square. That, in itself, suggested the power of the factors.
Before he dismounted Quaeryt surveyed the square, an area paved with rough cobblestones, unlike the smoother paving blocks used in Telaryn or in the ancient Naedaran roads. In the center was a square pedestal, and on the pedestal was a statue of a man, cast in bronze old enough that it held a patina of brown and green. Presumably, the man depicted was a former rex, since Kharst had not ruled long enough for a statue that old, and Quaeryt doubted that any local personage would have spent the golds for what would have been regarded as Naming. Apparently, in Bovaria, the rex was above that particular sin.
All that reminded Quaeryt that it had been almost a month since he’d had to conduct a service or deliver a homily. So far … so far, he had to say he didn’t miss it.
He eased off his mount and turned to the squad leader. “Just wait. This shouldn’t take more than a quint or so.”
“Yes, sir.”
Holding full shields, he walked up to the door and opened it, stepping inside. Once in the entry hall, he tucked his uniform visor cap into the crook in his left arm and crossed the open space to the front table.
The clerk behind the table looked up … and seeing the uniform, and most likely Quaeryt’s unnaturally white hair, nails, and dark eyes … froze.
“I’m here to see Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s here.”
The clerk swallowed, seemingly unable to respond.
“Where is he?” Quaeryt asked politely.
The clerk grasped a small bell and rang it.
After a moment the leftmost of the two doors in the wall behind the clerk opened, and Factor Jarell stepped out.
Quaeryt wasn’t surprised.
Neither, apparently, was Jarell, who smiled and asked, “What brings you here, Commander?”
“I need to go over a few matters with Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s there.” Quaeryt pointed to the closed door.
“He should be,” replied Jarell amiably, walking to the door and opening it. “Commander Quaeryt is here to see you.” He gestured.
Quaeryt smiled. “After you.”
Jarell stepped into the study, and Quaeryt followed, closing the door behind him.
The study was small, some three yards by four, and held only a writing table and the chair behind it, in which Palumyn sat, almost as if sculpted of
“You do have that talent, dearest,” murmured Vaelora in such a low tone Quaeryt doubted the others had heard.
“I’d like to hear about what each of you needs for your men and mounts,” Quaeryt said quickly, “and what supplies you think we’ll need, especially anything we might not find in smaller towns. There aren’t likely to be many larger towns along the Phraan because it’s shallower and narrower than the River Laar.”
And most trade under Kharst and previous rulers relied on the rivers.
He looked to Khaern. “If you’d start, Subcommander.”
Quaeryt had no doubt that he and Vaelora would be listening for a time, but he needed to know what was necessary as soon as possible.
10
Much as he wanted to stay in bed on Meredi morning, Quaeryt was up early, worrying about everything from provisions to getting to the factors’ council. While he still had over three hundred golds from what Skarpa had sent, that was not much, even if he spent it only on supplies, not for fifteen hundred troopers. And he was only paying half the going rate. He didn’t want to commandeer the provisions, but he also wanted to get the point across that the merchants and factors would have to shoulder some costs beyond token tariffs.
Accompanied by a half squad from first company, he did manage to rein up in front of the small, two-story brick building off the lower main square in Daaren just before eighth glass. There was no sign or inscription on the structure, but Quaeryt recalled it from the last visit, if only because it was the sole unidentified building around the square. That, in itself, suggested the power of the factors.
Before he dismounted Quaeryt surveyed the square, an area paved with rough cobblestones, unlike the smoother paving blocks used in Telaryn or in the ancient Naedaran roads. In the center was a square pedestal, and on the pedestal was a statue of a man, cast in bronze old enough that it held a patina of brown and green. Presumably, the man depicted was a former rex, since Kharst had not ruled long enough for a statue that old, and Quaeryt doubted that any local personage would have spent the golds for what would have been regarded as Naming. Apparently, in Bovaria, the rex was above that particular sin.
All that reminded Quaeryt that it had been almost a month since he’d had to conduct a service or deliver a homily. So far … so far, he had to say he didn’t miss it.
He eased off his mount and turned to the squad leader. “Just wait. This shouldn’t take more than a quint or so.”
“Yes, sir.”
Holding full shields, he walked up to the door and opened it, stepping inside. Once in the entry hall, he tucked his uniform visor cap into the crook in his left arm and crossed the open space to the front table.
The clerk behind the table looked up … and seeing the uniform, and most likely Quaeryt’s unnaturally white hair, nails, and dark eyes … froze.
“I’m here to see Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s here.”
The clerk swallowed, seemingly unable to respond.
“Where is he?” Quaeryt asked politely.
The clerk grasped a small bell and rang it.
After a moment the leftmost of the two doors in the wall behind the clerk opened, and Factor Jarell stepped out.
Quaeryt wasn’t surprised.
Neither, apparently, was Jarell, who smiled and asked, “What brings you here, Commander?”
“I need to go over a few matters with Factor Palumyn. I assume he’s there.” Quaeryt pointed to the closed door.
“He should be,” replied Jarell amiably, walking to the door and opening it. “Commander Quaeryt is here to see you.” He gestured.
Quaeryt smiled. “After you.”
Jarell stepped into the study, and Quaeryt followed, closing the door behind him.
The study was small, some three yards by four, and held only a writing table and the chair behind it, in which Palumyn sat, almost as if sculpted of
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