Is that because she writes because she wants to?
He looked to Straesyr. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“Not for the moment. We should talk on Lundi morning. You look like you could use some rest. I won’t need any written reports from you. You can just tell me anything you haven’t already then.”
“Thank you, sir.” Quaeryt stood slowly, nodded, and retreated to his study.
Once there, he opened the letter.
My Dearest Scholar Quaeryt-
“My Dearest”? Rhetorical excess? Or does she have dreams … more like delusions … or are the delusions yours? Quaeryt frowned, then swallowed. If she really feels that way … Bhayar would be anything but pleased. Anything but pleased. He took a deep breath before he continued reading.
Your latest missive was most entertaining as well as informative, so much so that I had to share it with members of my family. Unhappily, some were not so amused as was I, but even the sternest acknowledged your perception and wit …
Good … but will that be enough now that your brother has since discovered that he no longer has a “good governor” and undoubtedly superior commander? And that you address me as “Dearest”-or was that a way to assure I got the letter? He hoped so, or he might be marooned in Tilbor forever.
… and the wisdom behind such fascinating observations, although I must, as a mere young woman of no great worldly experience, defer to those with far greater apperception of the world as it is and not as I would have it.
I must also confess that I miss hearing your wit and perceptive comments in person, although in truth, I needs must also acknowledge that such occasions were far fewer in number than I, and I hope you, would otherwise have wished. For, as you know from your observations of the palace and the court, how could matters have been otherwise? Yet, in these times and perhaps in all times, a wise woman, or a young woman who is intelligent enough to seek the counsel of women far wiser and more powerful, must learn to seek where she can the company of minds who are not unsympathetic to her deepest feelings and convictions, be that company in correspondence, in conversation, or more happily otherwise. Wherever that dialogue may occur, it is to be valued and cherished, for even one so sheltered as I have been knows that it is rare indeed in any company, and so do I cherish those words you dispatch to me.
It may be that the news of other happenings has not reached you, in view of your duties and responsibilities, but it appears as if the Autarch of Antiago is tending to forget his most felicitous past relationships with Telaryn and is responding to a courtship of sorts from the Rex of Bovaria.…
Quaeryt read quickly through the next few paragraphs, which recounted various bits of news from Solis, all of which suggested that Rex Kharst was bent on annexing Antiago in one fashion or another in the years ahead … if not sooner.
… all of these events have given much pause, it is said, to Lord Bhayar, and those who know him well are given to suggesting that he has devoted much thought to readying Telaryn to weather the tempests that appear on the horizon. What preparations he will make and in what fashion has not been made known to any, only that he is about to undertake such, and that much may well change in the months and years to come. What this bodes for us, and for this most felicitous correspondence, I do not know, only that your words and the thoughts of receiving them have enlightened and warmed me, and that I would most earnestly hope that I will be able to count on continuing to receive such.
Quaeryt swallowed at the closing-“Your devoted Vaelora.”
Was her life that constricted in the palace that his comparatively few letters afforded such pleasure? Were her words rhetorical excess, based on the wistful fancies of a young woman who felt totally imprisoned by who she was?
He shook his head. Whatever the reason for the plea, he could not fail to reply to her, perhaps because he had seen-in the persons of Rescalyn’s exiled Bovarian mistress, of Hailae, and even of Tyrena, if only through the vista of a vanishing past-the way in which events could stifle the spirit of brilliant and accomplished women. He could not free Vaelora, but he could, he hoped, offer words that would stimulate and perhaps comfort, although, given the fierceness of her spirit, he could not ever be condescending or pitying.
And yet … even the act of replying to such a missive, even if carefully, oh so carefully accomplished, increased the risk of Bhayar’s displeasure … and for that matter the displeasure of anyone of power who wanted to form an alliance or gain greater power or access to Bhayar. Such displeasure could easily turn into attacks that might be difficult for even an accomplished imager to stop or divert.
For all that … you will reply …
He eased, awkwardly, a sheet of paper from the desk drawer.
96
Quaeryt barely made the mess on Solayi morning and had no more than seated himself when a figure walked swiftly toward him-Phargos.
“I was hoping to catch you,” said the chorister, settling into the seat across from Quaeryt. “I’m not going to ask you to deliver a homily.” A wide smile followed. “From what I’ve heard, mine would be most unfavorably compared to yours.”
“I’m certain that wouldn’t be true,” replied Quaeryt. “The homilies of yours that I’ve heard have always been enlightening.”
“I’m afraid it would be. Undercaptain Gauswn is convinced you’re the second coming of Rholan. So are a few others.”
“I’m nothing of the sort. You, of all people, know that.” Quaeryt poured tea into his mug, carefully, still feeling awkward in only having one hand to use.
“I do. I’m just not sure exactly what you are. You’re almost all things to all people. You’re a good officer to Skarpa and those who saw you in combat. You’re a good chorister to those who have heard your homilies. You’re obviously a good scholar to those who value scholarship.” Phargos shook his head. “I don’t think anyone, even you yourself, knows truly what you are.” The smile returned. “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. Did you know that Gauswn wants to leave the regiment when his time is up and become a chorister?”
“I didn’t know. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. When would that be?”
“His commitment ends on the thirty-fifth of Erntyn next year. Cyrethyn would like for him to study with both of us and succeed him as the chorister for the scholarium. We’ve gotten some good junior officers from there, and it would help to have a chorister who’s friendly to Telaryn and the regiment. Those are my thoughts on the matter. What are yours?”
Quaeryt grinned. “You don’t want my thoughts. You want to know if I’d approve of him. Yes, I would. He’s good at heart, and intelligent. He’d represent change, even though it wouldn’t be that great a change, and the scholarium could use that.” Quaeryt paused. “You don’t even need my approval. What’s the problem?”
“Cyrethyn is frail. He’s very frail. I worry he may not live another year.”
“Do you want me to talk to Straesyr to see if he’d release Gauswn early on the condition he starts immediately at the scholarium?”
“Cyrethyn is far more frail than he lets on.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” Phargos rose. “Unlike with some, with you, those words mean what they say.”
Quaeryt served himself one of the thick cooling cheese omelets and scarcely warm bread, then took a sip of his tea. As he ate, he couldn’t help but think about Phargos’s comment, especially as it applied to Vaelora. Was he something he wasn’t to her? He’d certainly never tried to deceive her-perhaps to mislead anyone who intercepted and read his words, but not her. For those reasons, composing a response to her latest missive had been difficult, and he had yet to finish that reply, but he did have a few days before another courier would leave for Solis.