“Most satisfactory, sir.” Quaeryt settled into the chair on the left. “The food in the mess is quite good.”
“The governor insists on good fare for both soldiers and his officers, among other things. He’s very particular about that.” Straesyr’s lips curled momentarily. “Before we begin on dealing with your mission, I’d be curious to know how you became acquainted with Lord Bhayar.” The princeps smiled, but his eyes remained icy blue.
“When we were younger, he studied with the same scholars as I did. Lord Chayar sent him to the Scholarium, rather than have him tutored in the palace.”
“It’s said that Lord Chayar also had him trained in arms, both with the rankers and with junior officers. What do you know of that?”
“Very little, sir. Once, in passing, he made a remark about the sons of High Holders and that they should all spend time being trained like rankers in his father’s regiments. That was the only time I recall him saying anything.”
“You didn’t spend time as a soldier or armsman, then?”
“No, sir.”
“So you’ve been a scholar from birth, essentially.”
“No, sir. I was orphaned very young in the Great Plague and raised by the scholars. I left the scholars and spent six years or so before the mast, and then persuaded them to take me back.”
“Why did you return to the scholars?”
“Seafaring isn’t a way of life that takes to questions. Too much has been learned at the cost of lives, and trying new ways usually doesn’t turn out well.”
“Isn’t that true of most ways of life?”
“It is.” Quaeryt smiled wryly. “But a scholar can ask a few more questions and has the time to try to work out better ways. Or to find better reasons why the old ways work as they do, and that sometimes leads to better ways as well.”
Surprisingly, to Quaeryt, the princeps nodded. “What better ways are you seeking for Lord Bhayar?”
“He hasn’t said.” That was certainly true enough. “He wants to know more about why the people of Tilbor are so difficult.”
“He could have asked the governor or me.”
“Could he, sir?” asked Quaeryt politely, keeping his tone very deferential.
Straesyr stiffened for a moment, then nodded again. “I see your point, scholar. Your presence is the only safe way to raise the question, and that is why Lord Bhayar appointed you as my assistant and not the governor’s.”
“Lord Bhayar never gave me a reason. He just gave me the appointment.”
“His father often did the same. Did you ever meet him?”
“No, sir.”
“What about other members of his family?”
“I was briefly introduced to one of his sisters. I have since received missives from her, inquiring about the prevalence of certain historical practices of rulers.”
“You are most careful about your responses,” observed the princeps.
“I am a scholar beholden to others, sir. They often have many sources of information, as do you. Untruths would be inadvisable, as well as unwise.”
“What do you want to know from me?” asked Straesyr calmly, as if he had discovered what he wished to find out.
“A number of matters … but I would begin with the latest. Last night at the mess, I couldn’t help but overhear officers talking about the backlanders and the timber barons, as if they remained a considerable problem for you and the governor.”
“At one time or another, anyone with arms or power has been a problem,” replied Straesyr. “You did, however, hear correctly. Those who are currently fomenting the most trouble are those in the Boran Hills. Even the few … disruptions near Tilbora appear to be linked to them. I suspect that they are supported by the landholders there who are not High Holders. I have little trust in the High Holders, either, but whenever possible High Holders attempt to have others shed their blood and spend their golds.”
“Why would those landholders in the hills be interested in taking on Lord Bhayar’s forces? From what little I know, you and the governor have been fair to all in applying the laws, and that would seem to benefit them more than the High Holders.” Those were guesses on Quaeryt’s part, but they fit what he had observed so far.
“That is indeed a question. The old Khanars maintained a guard strong enough to defeat any two or three High Holders, but it was not large enough to deal with even a handful of them at once. So the Khanars tended not to upset the High Holders.”
“What happened to the Guard?”
“When the Pretender was defeated in battle-just below the palace, in fact-he attempted to retreat behind the walls, but the Guard closed the gates and left the Khanar and his clan followers to face Lord Chayar. The Guard commander claimed that the Pretender wasn’t the true Khanar of Tilbor. That made matters easier for Lord Chayar, even though he privately deemed the Guard unworthy. He didn’t want to execute all that were left of the two thousand. So he disbanded the Guard and exiled the officers to either Bovaria or Antiago … well, also Khel, but that was just before Kharst began his campaign to take over Khel.”
“Did any of the Guards take up arms against Lord Chayar later?”
Straesyr shrugged. “I doubt it. Some of them may have, but if they did, it had to be with the backwoods holders.”
“None of the High Holders caused trouble?”
“Only one. He refused to pay the overtariff Lord Chayar imposed. Chayar pulled down his holding and killed him. He had me sell off half the lands to pay the tariff and the costs of the attacks, and left the rest to the widow and heirs.”
That was a slightly different story than the one Quaeryt had heard from Sarastyn, but he nodded. “After that I take it no one refused to pay tariffs.”
“Not so far.” The princeps gave a short laugh. “Not in the nine years since.”
“How have the merchanters, factors, crafters, and growers done with their tariffs?”
“They pay them. Sometimes a few are late. There were more who were late until the governor-that was Governor Fhayt, the one before Governor Rescalyn-sent armed squads to collect.”
“I’d heard that there have been attacks on soldiers.”
“There have been,” admitted Straesyr.
“On men alone at night?”
“Oh … there have been a few killed by thieves and brigands. That happens everywhere. No. The attacks by their so-called partisans have been on squads on collection duties in the backlands.”
“Have you lost any entire squads?”
“Once, last year. Now we send out at least a company. We rotate the companies, except in the winter, when we use those trained in the snow.”
“Have you captured any of these partisans?”
“None who know anything. When we have, they’ve changed their meeting places.”
“What sort of weapons do they use?”
“They prefer to pick off soldiers with arrows or quarrels, rather than fight close at hand. That’s one reason why the regiment has few archers.”
Quaeryt couldn’t help frowning. The princeps’s statement seemed to make no sense.
“I see I’ve puzzled you. Tilbor is different. The towns are farther apart. Even the trees in the forests are farther apart. Their archers hide in trees or fire and run. Against these tactics, archers, even mounted archers, are mostly useless. Archers are far more effective against massed bodies of men, especially on foot and in the open. Cavalry or mounted infantry that can move quickly through the woods or on the roads are less of a target and are more effective at chasing the brigands down. The regiment does have one company of archers, but they’re seldom used.” Straesyr smiled tightly. “I’ll talk to the governor when he returns about letting you read the dispatches. I don’t see a problem, but that has to be his decision.”
“Thank you. Do you or the governor meet often with any of the High Holders?”
“We hold a reception here once every season. I think every single one and his wife have attended at least one a year. Every so often the governor is invited to dinners at the local High Holders’ estates, and he makes announced and unannounced visits with a cavalry company to different High Holders on a continuing basis. They do come to meet with the governor when they have problems with a ruling from the governor or Lord Bhayar. I’m the one who meets more often with factors and local merchants.…”