He walked to the single narrow window and eased it open, enjoying the cool breeze and looking westward, although all he could see were the western walls and the sky above them, which held puffy clouds in the distance.
His room was doubtless one of the coldest in the palace in winter, but possibly one of the more comfortable in harvest and early fall, but it was also the farthest from the palace center where Rescalyn and Straesyr conducted the affairs of the governor on behalf of Lord Bhayar. Definitely, for the moment, at least, they didn’t want him too close to anyone.
He sat down at the desk and took out the mysterious missive, studied the script that spelled out his name, then used his belt knife and a touch of imaging to remove the blue wax seal without damaging the imprint. The first words told him the identity of the writer-and had she been anyone but Bhayar’s sister, he would have recognized the writing immediately. He just hadn’t believed that she would have written him.
Dear Scholar Quaeryt-
I take this liberty in writing you to continue the discussion we began in Solis, and I hope that this missive finds that you have arrived in health for your duties on behalf of Lord Bhayar …
Lord Bhayar? He shook his head. Without any reference to Bhayar as her brother, anyone who intercepted and read the letter could only assume that the writer was a woman-from the graceful script-highly placed in the court in Solis. Only someone who knew the court would likely understand to whom the “V” as a signature referred. But the references and the dispatch by Telaryn courier would make it more likely that, even if intercepted and read, the missive would reach him and also, he had to admit, give anyone with less than charitable intentions toward him some pause before acting immediately.
Had Vaelora thought that out as well?
Based on both letters he had received so far, he had to believe that she did-and that meant he was far more involved in the intrigues surrounding Bhayar than he’d ever had any intention of being … especially since one of the reasons he’d left Solis was to avoid such intrigues, knowing that he had no real power in the court.
… also trust that you have had a chance to think over my previous thoughts, unschooled as they may be, in view of your own observations …
… Lord Bhayar has observed on previous occasions that pursuit of the practical is most necessary for a ruler to be successful, but, from my own most limited experience, I believe that what is practical for one man may not be so for another, and even what is practical for most men may not be so for a woman. Likewise, what is practical for most women may not be so for most men. Such questions might seem to some as similar to an attempt to split a hair with a broadsword, yet the very raising of such an inquiry about any law or practice of a ruler can lead the way to greater insight and, one would trust, a more effective ruler.
Many have questioned the value of scholars and others who seek knowledge that has no apparent immediate value. I am no scholar, yet it would seem to me that the ores from which metals are refined have no immediate value, nor does a newborn babe have any immediate value …
Quaeryt could not but help smiling as he continued reading and finished the letter. He was also having trouble in not yawning.
He would have to reply to Vaelora, but he wasn’t about to try to write a cogent response after a long night with no sleep whatsoever … and certainly not when he still had not been able to deduce her motivations for writing. He re-folded the missive, then took both her letters and placed them in the document case.
The bed looked very inviting, and it would only take a few moments to make it up.
34
When Quaeryt woke, it was past noon, and by the time he had walked down to the main level, found the bath chambers, washed and shaved, and climbed back up to his quarters and changed into clean scholars’ browns, it was closer to half past first glass. The west wing was apparently deserted, not surprisingly for early afternoon on a working day, and he set out to explore the grounds of the Telaryn Palace, beginning with the area west of where he’d been quartered. Just beyond the west entrance to the building was a stretch of gravel, and beyond that a flat and level area that looked like it might be used for turf bowls.
He walked along the edge of the bowling green to the anomen, located in the shadow of the northwest corner of the walls. It was a comparatively small edifice, dwarfed by the walls, looking from the outside as though it could hold no more than two hundred congregants.
Is it just for the officers? Or does the chorister hold many services? From what Quaeryt knew, there was close to a regiment of Telaryn soldiers and cavalry quartered within the grounds of the palace or nearby.
He studied the anomen closely. The dome had been repainted recently, but the color was more yellow than the traditional gold, and while the main doors had been oiled recently, the oak was still streaked with the white created by too many long winters.
East of the anomen was another stone-paved lane that led back toward the eastern-and only-gates. To the south were more gardens and a narrow orchard, and to the north, what looked more like three-story town houses, set side by side. Quaeryt estimated that they were only six or seven yards wide, but close to ten deep, with their rear wall abutting the defensive walls. He began to count as he walked along the lane. After forty of the narrow houses, there was a small park-like area, where a handful of small children played, watched by a white-haired woman. East of the first forty houses were another forty, and then a large three-story structure with narrow windows that resembled the west wing of the palace, except that the windows were even narrower and closer together.
Housing for the more valued servants? That was Quaeryt’s best guess, although he would have guessed that there were tinier rooms beneath the palace itself for others less fortunate.
East of the servants’ housing were the structures for the soldiers, more narrow-windowed gray stone buildings, but they were constructed so that the first level held stables, and the two levels above, presumably barracks. After making his way into the stables and asking several ostlers, he found his mare, and she had been groomed and fed, as Straesyr had said, and his saddle carefully cleaned and racked.
When he left the stables, the sound of marching drew Quaeryt back to the entry courtyard. There two companies were drilling, one with pikes, and another carrying sabres. The pike company took up most of the space. He watched for a time, then made his wandering way through the gardens and miniature orchards. During the entire survey of the planted area, which took almost two glasses, and during which he tried to note every different plant and tree, he saw no one except four gardeners.
The more he saw, the more he realized that the “Telaryn Palace” held the equivalent of a small city within the graystone walls.
At just before fifth glass, Quaeryt stepped into the mess in the west wing, to be greeted by a senior squad leader in crisp undress greens. “Scholar Quaeryt?”
“Yes?”
“All officers may sit at any table they please. The exception is at mess nights, when seating is by rank. The princeps has declared that, for purposes of mess night seating, your rank is that of the most junior captain.”
“What nights are mess nights?”
“Jeudi nights, unless otherwise announced.”
“Thank you.” For quarters, I’m field grade, but to the other officers, I’m a captain? Quaeryt stepped farther into the mess and quickly studied the tables. There were three long tables, each capable of seating twenty or so. There were but a handful of junior officers already present, and from what he could see of them, all wore the single silver bar of an undercaptain.