L. Modesitt Jr. - Princeps

“Princeps, sir.”

“Do come in.” Quaeryt smiled and kept walking.

The timber factor followed, and Vhorym closed the study door behind them.

Quaeryt gestured to the chairs, then settled behind his desk. “Lord Bhayar has agreed that the mature goldenwoods and oaks can be cut, but there are a number of conditions involved.”

“There are always conditions in everything,” said Cohausyt.

“There are indeed.” Quaeryt picked up the sheet of paper from the desk and handed it over. “Here are the terms.”

Quaeryt could see the tic in the factor’s left eye begin to twitch as the older man read the sheet of paper.

“I don’t know about leaving the softwoods untouched…” said the factor slowly.

“We know that the goldenwoods and oaks are heavier. There will be times when they bring down the evergreens. The terms state that you can only log those brought down incidentally … and not incidentally on purpose. Is that unreasonable?”

“Well … no, sir, but at times the best goldenwoods are surrounded by stands of pines, and there’s no way to get to them…”

Quaeryt listened until Cohausyt finished, then said, “You’d best make those points of access very narrow.”

“I suppose we can handle that … but no goldenwoods less than two-thirds of a yard across or two yards around at a yard above the ground?”

“That’s what the best foresters recommend…”

“Begging your pardon, Princeps, but foresters aren’t the ones who have to cut and mill the timber.”

“That’s true. They’re the ones who have to make sure that there are trees there for your sons to cut and mill.”

Cohausyt sighed and went back to reading, but only for a few moments. “… smoothing and tamping the logging roads?”

“Lord Bhayar doesn’t want large gullies in the middle of his woods.”

“But, sir, tamping takes men and time, and…”

Again, Quaeryt listened, before finally saying, quietly, “You are getting access to prime goldenwoods and oaks. There’s not a stand like them anywhere else in Tilbor.”

“But these terms…”

“I suppose I could post the terms and have others bid on them…” mused Quaeryt. Not that he wanted to, because Cohausyt was by far the most honest of the timber factors, and that meant that Bhayar would likely not be shorted on the golds from the sale of the timber. Quaeryt would have liked to have sold the rights for a flat fee, but there wasn’t a timber factor in Tilbor who possessed that amount of golds to pay up front.

“No … I’ll do what’s right, Princeps.” Cohausyt looked to Quaeryt. “I’ve heard you’re fair. Hard mayhap, but fair. It’ll take a bit longer, though.”

“I understand.” And Quaeryt did. Everything has to do with golds … and time. He understood that necessity, but even with the more honest factors, and Cohausyt was one of those, every term had to be spelled out in ink … and then explained.

He couldn’t say that he was looking forward to the meeting with Raurem. With all the nit-picking and endless details required in everything, it seemed, he understood more than ever why Straesyr had been more than happy to relinquish his duties as princeps to Quaeryt.

Jeudi morning dawned clear and bright, but there was still frost on the windows, and Quaeryt was most happy that the dressing chamber had a large carpet, because he could see frost in places on the polished marble floor. Even the lukewarm wash water pitchers showed warm vapor rising into the air.

“The pitchers-they look like the hot springs below Mount Extel,” said Vaelora. “Well … they don’t really, but they remind me of them. I wish we had hot springs here. A truly hot bath would be so wonderful.”

“If the springs were so wonderful, why did he move the capital from there?” bantered Quaeryt. He knew about the mountains of fire, but not about the hot springs. “Bhayar said his father did it because Solis was better located for trade and transport. He never mentioned hot springs in winter. But then, maybe he wasn’t one for baths.”

“Quaeryt…”

“Well … why haven’t I ever heard about these wonderful warm baths?”

“It’s not something we talk about.”

Quaeryt frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a family secret.” Vaelora smiled.

“Am I not part of the family now?”

“You are, and I’ll tell you because I don’t want any secrets between us. Promise me that you won’t keep secrets from me.”

“I promise.”

“I mean it.”

“I understand,” Quaeryt replied, and he did. He already knew that when she set her mind to something, nothing changed her course.

“He did it because of a vision.”

“A vision? Lord Chayar was a most practical man. I can’t believe he saw visions.”

“He didn’t, dearest.”

Quaeryt sighed. Loudly.

“Father moved the capital to Solis because Grandmere had a vision. She didn’t call it that. She said it was foresight. She was mostly Pharsi. Everyone knows that, but no one talks about it. She had more than a few visions, and Father said he’d not listened to her only once, and he wished he had. So when she said she’d seen Extela in ruins and parts of it covered with ash and lava, he didn’t argue.”

“Well … so far as I know, Extela’s still doing quite nicely.”

“It is. Sometimes the mountain rumbles and at times it spews out ash, but the ash and hot springs are why the uplands are so fertile.”

“And he uprooted everyone and rebuilt Solis because of a vision?” Quaeryt tried not to sound appalled. “One that never happened?”

“You didn’t know Grandmere.”

Quaeryt considered. If her grandmother was anything like Vaelora, I can see … “You take after her, don’t you?”

Vaelora offered a rueful smile, one of the few that Quaeryt had seen on her face. “That was what Mother claimed. Bhayar said I have her spirit and that I was born to plague him.”

Quaeryt grinned broadly. “So … that was why-”

He didn’t get any farther because a good portion of the cold water pitcher splashed across his chest and face.

Later … when laughter subsided, with domestic order restored, and Quaeryt stopped shivering and got dressed, they did manage to reach the private dining chamber, where, thankfully, the stove had warmed the air to an almost pleasant state, pleasant for winter in Tilbora, reflected Quaeryt as he took a welcome swallow of tea.

“Dearest … are you still going to ride to the scholarium this morning?”

“Yes, even after a cold dowsing.” Quaeryt managed not to frown, then saw the anxious expression on Vaelora’s face, an expression he knew he was meant to see, since she was excellent at avoiding what she did not wish to reveal. “Would you like to accompany me?”

“If you wouldn’t mind too terribly. Emra … I had thought to spend some time with her, but both her son and daughter are quite ill with the croup. So is Eluisa. That means I won’t see her, either, and I was looking forward so to learning some of the pieces by Covaelyt and Veblynt.”

“Isn’t there sheet music? You play well enough…”

“She only has one copy of each, and she is most guarded in holding them. You can understand why that might be, and I’d rather not have to copy it line by line.”

Left unsaid was that there were no copyists at the Telaryn Palace except those attached to the regiments, and neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora felt it proper to request personal copying from them.

Quaeryt looked at his wife. “You miss Aelina, don’t you?”

“Terribly. I cannot tell you how much … She was the only one…”

“Except Aunt Nerya, of course,” teased Quaeryt.