Quaeryt joined the major and poured himself some tea before taking a helping of eggs scrambled with cheese and ham.
“Commander Myskyl ordered me to supply a company to support you today. He said you were going to visit the scholars.” Skarpa’s tone was even.
Too even, Quaeryt reflected. “I requested an escort. The governor and princeps decided on a company.”
“Why does a scholar need such an escort?”
“Because the scholars are tied to the hill holders and backed the Pretender against the Khanara.”
Skarpa frowned.
Quaeryt waited.
“I was ordered-ordered, not requested-to send Undercaptain Gauswn and his company, and I don’t think that was the regimental commander’s idea.”
Quaeryt couldn’t say he was surprised and didn’t. “It’s likely it wasn’t.” He knew full well that the reason Gauswn had been chosen was that he was Tilboran, very junior, least likely to question Quaeryt, and expendable if anything went wrong. For that last reason alone, Quaeryt intended that nothing would go wrong. He also knew that intentions weren’t always realized.
“Why not? Do you know?”
“I don’t know. I do know the governor brought me to meet with a High Holder last Mardi. The only thing that was discussed was how out of step the scholars were with the High Holders and the people of Tilbor. That was after I went to a reception held by the princeps where I was meant to hear all sorts of comments about the scholars. None of them were favorable.”
“This stinks worse than week-old fish in high summer.” Skarpa’s voice was low.
“What would you suggest?”
“Besides keeping yourself and Gauswn alive? I don’t know.”
“Rescalyn’s remarks last night?”
“They could be a coincidence.”
Skarpa didn’t sound convinced, and Quaeryt certainly wasn’t. “They might be,” he offered cautiously.
“You don’t believe that.”
“Neither do you.”
Skarpa laughed, softly, but harshly. Then he shook his head. “Take care of Gauswn. He’ll make a good officer in time.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
There wasn’t much to be said after that, and Quaeryt and the major ate quietly and then departed on their respective ways.
Quaeryt gave his sealed envelopes to the dispatch rider and parted with another silver, reflecting as he did that he actually had a fair amount of pay coming to him, since he hadn’t drawn it the week before … something like thirty silvers, after the deductions for the mess. Except that he might not be back in time to draw his pay, not if matters at the Ecoliae were as he feared.
He shook his head as he walked toward the stables.
By a quint past seventh glass, Quaeryt and Gauswn were riding away from the lower gates of the palace toward the Ecoliae. Quaeryt carried the light shields that triggered into heavier shields. He was getting to the point where they felt natural and close to effortless, although the effort of maintaining the heavier shields was akin to that required for a fast walk.
“Can you tell me what this is all about, sir?” asked the undercaptain. “Major Skarpa said that there might be trouble with the scholars, and that I’m under your command.”
“I don’t know everything,” replied Quaeryt. “The problem lies with some of the senior scholars. They seem to have strong ties to the hill holders and have created problems with some High Holders. Neither the factors nor the High Holders trust them, and it shouldn’t be that way. We’re going there to look into the situation, because the governor thinks that I, as a scholar, should be able to see more.”
“What do you think you’ll find, sir?”
“Trouble of some sort. I’d be surprised if much force is required, except the force of presence of your company.” Quaeryt laughed. “But I’ve been surprised before, and that’s why you and your company are here.”
After a moment, Gauswn asked, “What are your orders and instructions?”
“Simply that no one is to leave the Ecoliae until I finish talking with the Master Scholar or, in his absence, the scholar princeps. In carrying out that order, have your men try not to do serious harm to anyone-unless the scholar attempts to do violence to any ranker.”
“Yes, sir. Not doing harm unless threatened-that’s a standing order. Anything else?”
Quaeryt thought. “Some of the scholars are trained in Sansang. You might caution your men that empty-handed scholars or those with a half-staff can also be dangerous.” He hoped Gauswn didn’t press him for details on how he knew. He’d rather not evade or lie.
Gauswn turned to the lead ranker riding behind him. “Did you hear that, Fhenoyt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pass that back to the other squads.” Gauswn returned his attention to Quaeryt.
Little more than a glass later, the company reached the base of the hill that held the Ecoliae and started riding up the brick-paved lane, with two scouts before Quaeryt and the undercaptain. Several scholars standing on the front section of the wide covered porch surrounding the main building of the Ecoliae turned and watched as the company of troopers rode from the brick-paved lane and stationed themselves by squads around the main building, positioned to watch the stables as well.
Accompanied by two rankers, Quaeryt rode forward and reined up short of the hitching ring before the front steps, whose bricks still needed repointing. He dismounted and handed the mare’s reins to the nearest ranker, then turned toward the steps.
“This is a place of learning. Do not enter if you have aught else on your mind,” declared the sharp-faced, dark-haired scholar who stood before the front steps, half-blocking the way.
For a moment, Quaeryt struggled to place the scholar. Then he laughed. “That precept doesn’t apply to this House of Scholars, Alkiabys. Not after all that you and Chardyn have done.”
“It is still a House of Scholars, and you are no scholar.”
“I’m far more a scholar than you or Chardyn. Stand aside. I’m only going to talk to Phaeryn and Zarxes … by myself. The troopers are here to see that no one leaves.”
Alkiabys stepped back, but Quaeryt strengthened his shields slightly, and made them more sensitive before walking up the steps. As he started to cross the porch, he saw Nalakyn stepping from the center door, his face creased in puzzlement.
“Wait here on the porch, Scholar Nalakyn … if you would.” Quaeryt softened the last few words before entering the center door.
Both Phaeryn and Zarxes stood in the foyer, waiting for him.
“The prodigal scholar…” offered Zarxes sarcastically.
“No … just the scholar assistant to the princeps of Tilbor.”
“Might I ask exactly why you are here, and under what authority?” asked Phaeryn.
“The authority is that of Lord Bhayar, as approved by Governor Rescalyn. Do you think that anyone could arrive with a company of Telaryn troopers without the governor’s approval?”
“There is that,” agreed the silver-haired Master Scholar. “Your response, however, begs the question as to why the governor has any interest at all in a group of near-impoverished scholars who have done little but study and teach.”
“I do so appreciate your definition of ‘little,’ Master Scholar Phaeryn.” Quaeryt coated his words with irony. “I came to talk to you.”
“Then we should repair to my study so that we do not disturb the other scholars,” replied Phaeryn.
“Perhaps we should.” Quaeryt sensed that was exactly what the other two wanted, but, if matters went as he planned, that would serve his purposes as well.
Zarxes’s eyes twitched, as if he had wanted to look to Phaeryn, but had decided against it.
“This way, Scholar Quaeryt, if that is truly your name.”