“It appears that your efforts to convince the local scholars to abandon their opposition to Lord Bhayar are about to bear fruit-the bitter kind.”
“Sir?” Quaeryt was fairly certain he knew what was coming.
“Young Waerfyl, Saentaryn, Demotyl, and Huisfyl have declared their independence from Telaryn. They claim that the imposition of a foreign scholar over the true scholars of Tilbor is an absolute confirmation of the fact that Telaryn intends to destroy all independence of belief and thought in Tilbor. They are the ones who sent the message with a wounded ranker, but they claim other holders have also joined them. Since you precipitated this fracture, I thought you should participate in the aftermath.” Rescalyn smiled warmly.
Quaeryt debated for a moment, then spoke. “I’m glad I was able to bring about what you’ve been seeking, sir.”
Rescalyn’s momentary frown vanished almost immediately. Then he laughed. “You’re far more than a scholar, Master Quaeryt. How did you deduce that?”
“The size of the regiment, the extra companies in each battalion, the rotation so that every company saw action against the hill holders, the building of outposts that also held more troops, the recruiting and training of Tilborans … things like that.”
“Why do you think I did all that?”
Quaeryt knew full well, but he offered half the answer. “A standard regiment wouldn’t suffice against the hill holders. You and the princeps and some of the officers have all indicated, as did the documents I studied, that good as the Khanar’s Guard was, it wasn’t sufficient to take on the hill holders. Until they’re broken, Tilbor won’t ever be a secure province.”
“You deduced this in less than two months with no experience in Tilbor before?”
“I think I knew after about a month-certainly after getting wounded.”
“What did Bhayar really send you for?”
Quaeryt laughed, if ruefully. “To get me out of his hair, sir. He said I asked too many questions, and that I needed to spend time seeing what good governors do. He did say that, if I could find a way to effectively reduce the number of troops in Tilbor to free them for other uses, such a solution would be welcome. From what I can see, the only way to do that is to defeat and destroy the hill holders-or at least all the leaders and their holds.”
“We do agree on that.”
“Have I misunderstood anything?” asked Quaeryt.
The governor shook his head. “Once we near battle, you will accompany one of Major Skarpa’s captains so that you can see matters close at hand and testify as to the results of what good governors do. You do not have to fight, nor to act against the hill rebels, but you must be close enough to see what happens and be able to report to Lord Bhayar.”
Close enough to be killed without being ordered to fight. “I had thought that might be the case, sir.”
“Tell me. Why does Lord Bhayar’s sister write you?”
“That, I cannot honestly say. I met her once, and we talked for less than a half a quint. I never saw her again. Given my position, of course, I cannot afford not to reply with as much length and wit as I can muster.”
“I can see that.” Rescalyn laughed again. “We have a long ride ahead and time. Tell me. What do you think you have accomplished with the scholars?”
“I’ve put a true scholar in charge, and a no-nonsense scholar who was also the bursar in place as the scholar princeps. I put forth a set of principles, and I’ve talked to factors who are now interested in having their children be schooled there. I found that a few of your junior officers were taught there, and, if the scholarium continues, more may be as well. The education will be improved, with more Bovarian being taught and more history. For some reason,” Quaeryt said sardonically, “not much history was being taught. Those steps are being taken already. I’ve also thought about teaching more mathematics and practical science…”
“That would be good. Officers need to know that. What else?”
“I abolished the teaching of Sansang. I didn’t have a chance to replace that with something less … subversive.”
“Just teach them half-staff work. It’s useful, and the training develops coordination.…”
Quaeryt listened, knowing that he had a long, long ride ahead of him, and one on which he would need to watch every word as he tried to convince Rescalyn that he was bright … but not too bright.
76
A day and a half later, Quaeryt was still riding with Rescalyn, after a fashion. Although the governor spent more time with Commander Myskyl than with Quaeryt, he returned intermittently to ride with the scholar and even talked to him occasionally, but almost never with any warning, even if his voice was nearly always hearty and cheerful. That heartiness was beginning to irritate Quaeryt. Then that might have been because the governor was never less than always perfectly in command and cheerful, even when no one was looking.
The afternoon wasn’t as hot as midsummer, but it was still sultry. Quaeryt’s undershirt stuck to his back, and his legs were sore because he’d hardly been riding for the past week, and little enough since he’d returned to Tilbora. The column was headed straight west, possibly less than ten milles from the last line of hills that formed the eastern edge of the valley that held Boralieu.
Abruptly, Rescalyn asked, “Did you actually read all the papers from the Khanar’s document room?”
“Yes. Well … some of them I just skimmed over after I read the first part.”
“Why?”
“Because documents can tell you what it might take years to discover through experience. I was trying to determine if the Khanars had the same sort of difficulties with the hill holders as you have had.”
“Did they?”
“It seemed much the same, except there was a kind of bribery on both sides, and less fighting. But then, the hill holders couldn’t claim, not in the eyes of most Tilborans, that the Khanar was an outsider.”
“Do you really trust what was written?”
“Even when someone isn’t writing everything, or they’re glossing over things, or misrepresenting them, if you read enough, you can tell things by the way they’re written or by what’s not there.”
“Are you Bhayar’s spymaster or one of his top assistant spymasters?”
After a moment, when he was truly surprised, Quaeryt laughed. “No. If he has a spymaster, I have no idea who it is.”
“Then why are you here? Why would he send you here?”
“Why not? He likes me, or doesn’t dislike me. He’s known me since we were students, and he was getting tired of my questions. He’s worried about the amount of troops required here, and he doesn’t want to leave Solis right now because he’s also worried about what Kharst might do. If I can’t tell him, then there’s no harm done, and he has several months without me around.”
“You almost convince me, scholar.” Rescalyn’s voice remained cheerful.
“Of what?”
“That you are what you say.”
“Everything I’ve said is true.”
“I’m certain it is, but that doesn’t mean you’ve told me everything.”
Quaeryt shook his head ruefully. “There’s no end to that. To tell you everything about me, or for you to tell me everything about you, would take more time than either of us has.”
Abruptly, the sound of a horn echoed from the rear. Quaeryt didn’t understand the signal, but Rescalyn did, for he wheeled his mount.
“They’re being attacked!” The governor stood in the stirrups. “Column halt! Commander! Take charge here! Scholar! Follow me!”
Quaeryt did indeed follow Rescalyn back along the shoulder of the road, although the distance between them widened with every moment that passed. As the commands passed down the column, companies were turning, and weapons were out and at the ready.
Quaeryt caught up with the governor at the head of the wagons, near the two engineering wagons, and the supply wagons behind them. Rescalyn had reined up and was talking intently to a graying major, who seemed to shrink into his saddle with each word from the governor.