L. Modesitt - Scholar

“As I have always been.”

“That is true.”

Rescalyn nodded brusquely before turning and leaving.

Quaeryt had less trouble exiting the study behind Rescalyn, because the governor did not even try to close the door behind himself.

Quaeryt eased out of the anteroom and down to “his” study, where, after looking in both directions, he dropped the concealment, realizing, belatedly, that holding it had taken almost no effort at all. A result of all his practice with the heavier shields? Most likely.

He unlocked the study door, opened it slightly, and then walked back to the princeps’s anteroom, where he heard voices.

“… shows up, want to see him immediately.”

Quaeryt repressed a smile and put on a serious face, stepping into the anteroom.

Straesyr looked up. His expression was not quite grim. “I was trusting you might be here shortly. We need to talk.” He turned and walked into his study.

Quaeryt followed and closed the door behind himself.

Straesyr turned. “You’re my assistant. Why didn’t you report to me first?” While his voice was mild, his eyes were like the coldest blue ice Quaeryt had ever seen.

“I was under the impression, with the governor’s orders, that I was under the military chain of command, sir, and had to report to him first. After that, I had to … ah … and after that I came here, except I saw the governor march into your study. So I waited until he left.”

Straesyr opened his mouth … then closed it.

Finally, he said, “Scholar Quaeryt, I appreciate cleverness in support, but not in opposition.”

“Sir … I am in no way opposing you. If my actions appear that way, it is only appearance and not substance.”

“Would you mind explaining that?”

“Might I report on what I told the governor, sir?”

“Please do.”

Quaeryt repeated, nearly word for word, what he had told Rescalyn, as well as what Rescalyn had said, then added, “I got the impression he thought I was right to tell him, but that he wished I had told you first.”

Straesyr nodded. “That’s likely to be so.” After several moments, he smiled wryly. “The governor is a most capable man. He could achieve great things. Were Telaryn at war, he would doubtless distinguish himself for his forethought, his planning, and even his deep understanding of intrigue and when it is best used and when it is not. I would like to think that in the former areas I have close to equal abilities, but, unlike the governor, I have never been more than adequate in dealing with intrigue, as he has gently reminded me, and as I remind you.”

Quaeryt nodded thoughtfully in reply. “I see, sir.”

“Knowing from where you come and whom you serve, I believe you do. Need I say more?”

“No, sir.” Quaeryt paused. “Will our conversation serve as my weekly report, sir?”

“That, it will. After refreshing yourself, you should return to the Ecoliae … the scholarium … and continue your work at reforming it. If either the governor or I require your presence, we will summon you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Quaeryt … I do appreciate your handling of the situation after you met with the governor. I would not have wished to have had to seek you out.”

“No, sir. I never intended that you should.”

“I thought as much. Have a pleasant ride back to the scholarium, and do take care.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt maintained full shields all the way out of the palace and until he and the two rankers were more than a mille from the lower gates, when he returned to the triggered shields.

For the remainder of the ride back to the scholarium, he reflected on what he had seen and heard that morning. The conversation between the governor and the princeps had been most interesting, for what had been said, what had not been said, and what had been intimated and implied. What Straesyr had said to Quaeryt tended to confirm what Quaeryt believed about Rescalyn’s ambitions, especially given Kellear’s “accidental” death, the mention of Straesyr’s wife, and Straesyr’s veiled warning-he’d never told Quaeryt to take care before. Yet Quaeryt had nothing that amounted to hard proof, and he doubted that he ever would. Rescalyn was far too shrewd for that.

Mardi passed without incident, as did Meredi. They also passed without any word from either the princeps or the governor. By midday on Jeudi, Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was happening at the Telaryn Palace … or elsewhere in Tilbor. He had the feeling that a storm was looming over the horizon, most likely coming from the Boran Hills, but then … maybe he’d just misjudged both Rescalyn and the hill holders.

At the knock on the open door of the Master Scholar’s study, Quaeryt looked up. He tried not to stare at the ancient chorister who stood there. “Yes … what can I do for you, chorister?”

“Master Scholar … a few words with you?”

“I’m not the Master Scholar. I’m just acting as one, trying to reorder matters. You can certainly have a few words and more.” Quaeryt paused. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

As he settled into the seat across the desk from Quaeryt, the old man laughed. “That’s fitting enough for a servant of the Nameless, don’t you think?”

Quaeryt shrugged helplessly and offered an embarrassed smile. “I’ve heard two of your homilies. I’ve liked what you had to say in both of them, but no one ever mentioned your name.”

“You were there last Solayi. I fear I do not recall the other time. Oh … I am Cyrethyn.”

“That was when I first visited the scholarium, in Agostas. I was only here for a few days. You talked about the arrogance of the young and the strong, equating it in a sense, to Naming.”

“You flatter me, Master Scholar, by recalling what I said nearly two months ago. Such flattery is pleasurable, but I do not deserve it. That is why I am here. I am old. I am old in part because I am not brave. I have known for many years that Zarxes and Phaeryn received golds from Zorlyn. I knew that Chardyn had something to do with the death of Lord Chayar’s envoy. I knew many things. But I did nothing because I knew nothing would change, and I would die. As I said, I am not brave. So I am here to do what little I can.” The chorister smiled wryly. “Are you an honest scholar, Master Quaeryt?”

“I would like to say that I am, but I have been known to stretch and distort the facts of situations. I have misrepresented matters upon occasion by not revealing all that should have been revealed. I have rationalized that by telling myself that I did so in the service of seeking greater truths and more information. I do not know that I have been totally honest in that regard.”

“That you are willing to assess yourself so suggests you are honest.”

“Honest does not mean good,” Quaeryt pointed out.

Cyrethyn chuckled. “That might make a good homily.”

“It might, at that.”

After a brief silence, the chorister spoke again. “There is one other matter that I believe you should know.”

“What might that be?”

“As in all things, matters are not what they might seem to be. Your governor-Rescalyn-met with Phaeryn. That was five years ago. So far as I know, that was the only time they met.”

“That … it seems unlikely…”

“That may be, but only two people here and alive know about that meeting. I was one; the other was Zarxes. I do not sleep well. Many of my age do not. I was walking well after midnight when I heard a rider. As I told you, I am not brave. I hid in the bushes near where the secret tunnel emerges. I was surprised to see another man walk down the lane. It was Zarxes. They said little, except that Phaeryn said Rescalyn had offered a workable arrangement. Phaeryn said he had accepted it. He had no choice, not if he wanted to keep the Ecoliae intact and the golds coming from Zarxes’s sire. Zarxes agreed. Neither asked whether the governor could be trusted. Then Phaeryn entered the tunnel, and Zarxes walked the mount back to the stables. No one would have known that the Master Scholar had left the Ecoliae that night.”