L. Modesitt - Scholar

I just hope that Scholar Princeps Zarxes did not.

After leaving the young scholars, Quaeryt searched for Sarastyn, finally locating him almost a glass later on the shaded north porch.

“You have more questions … or are you here to enlighten me?” asked the older scholar sardonically.

“I have noticed that I’m not the one learning when I’m talking, sir.”

“Don’t use ‘sir’ with me. It makes me feel more decrepit than I already do.” Sarastyn gestured to the chair across from him.

“After thinking over what you told me yesterday, I did have a few more questions.”

“Well … what are they?”

“You mentioned how Nidar the Great had changed from the old clan way of fighting and created the Khanar’s Guard, but I was curious about how he could afford having a permanent guard.…”

“Oh … that was simple enough. He took a copper in tariffs from every gold in timber sales in the three ports-but only for timber leaving Tilbor. Most of that was in Midcote. He did the same thing with the seal and bear pelts taken by the ice hunters north of Noira … and he tariffed the white sugar from the south, but not the local molasses … not just those, but the same pattern on goods leaving or coming into Tilbor. Of course, there was a great deal more fur trading back then…”

Quaeryt listened until Sarastyn stopped and looked at him.

“The Khanar’s daughter … how exactly did she flee?”

“That was simple enough. She took a boat out to a Bovarian merchanter with her own guards, offered golds if they’d take her to Ephra, and steel if the captain chose to be disinclined.”

“And Rhecyrd didn’t try to stop her?”

“Why would he? Once she left, no one stood in his way.”

“Are there any ironworks in Tilbor now…”

“Just the small ones west of here and near Midcote.…”

After close to a glass, Quaeryt could tell that Sarastyn was tiring, and he took his leave, walking out to the stable where he saddled the mare and set out on another exploratory ride, this time into the trading and craft sector to the southeast of the Ecoliae. As he had suspected, there were no large manufactories, and only a few handfuls of those that might be considered even of moderate size. While he had heard that much of the timber used to the south of Tilbora came from Tilbor, he could find but one sawmill and two lumbering factorages, confirming in his own mind what Sarastyn had said about Midcote.

When he finally returned to the Ecoliae for supper, he wasn’t surprised to find Nalakyn waiting for him beside the dining hall door.

“I appreciated your talk this morning. Very much,” said the preceptor of students. “You explained things so very clearly. I cannot believe that you have no experience or personal knowledge of Lord Bhayar.”

“Lord Bhayar is such a forceful person that everyone in Solis knows well his wishes and aims,” replied Quaeryt with a laugh. “Those who serve him are equally direct and forceful.”

“Have you met any of them?”

“I have seen his seneschal, and even the sight of the man made it clear that it was best to avoid him. Fortunately, I had little cause to deal with him.” Or little enough.

Quaeryt walked through the doors and into the hall. Nalakyn accompanied him. They sat at one end of one of the long tables, and shortly the smallish bursar-Yullyd-joined them.

While the Ecoliae did provide ale or lager with the evening meal, Quaeryt had found the lager bitter and the ale unpalatable, and so had accepted the lager as the lesser evil, although, as he looked at the apple-baked dark fish on the platters set in the middle of the table, he had the feeling that the lager might be the best part of the meal-that and the greasy fried potatoes.

“Master Scholar Phaeryn must be most accomplished to have been able to keep the Ecoliae functioning during the time of the invasion, with all the fighting…” offered Quaeryt. “Were you here during that time?”

“Not for the time of the invasion. The Ecoliae was closed then. Master Scholar Phaeryn felt it would not be safe for students or for scholars. We all retreated to his family’s timberland in the Boran Hills until the fighting ended.”

“He must come from a family of means, then.”

“He was the youngest. That was why he became a scholar.”

“He said he’d rather be a scholar than a chorister,” added Yullyd. “He did serve a year in the Khanar’s Guard, too.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Nalakyn.

“Most folks don’t.”

“Didn’t Scholar Chardyn serve as well for a time?”

“He did,” said Yullyd. “He left when Lady Tyrena took over command. Not in name, of course, but in fact. That was when Eleonyd got so ill.”

Quaeryt could see there were more than a few conflicting stories of that time, but said nothing.

“Master Scholar Phaeryn has done marvels here,” said Nalakyn quickly. “The Ecoliae was almost falling down after the war…”

Quaeryt listened intently as the preceptor catalogued all of the Master Scholar’s virtues and accomplishments. He didn’t even have to prod Nalakyn, and that bothered him in more ways than one.

After Quaeryt left the dining hall after breakfast on a gloomy and overcast Mardi morning, he was grudgingly grateful for the quantity of flatcakes, which were at least palatable, despite the thinness of the berry syrup. The mutton strips had been almost inedible. He was just three steps into the main corridor when someone called to him.

“Scholar Quaeryt, sir.”

He turned to see a student standing against the wall of a side corridor, a position not visible from inside the dining hall. “Yes, Lankyt?”

“I … just wanted to thank you … for the letter … and for the talk, too, but mostly for the letter. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after I read it. I appreciate your bringing it all this way.”

“I could scarcely have done less after your father’s kindness.” Quaeryt moved toward the young man, stopping slightly less than a yard away.

“There’s another thing, sir.…”

Quaeryt nodded and waited.

“Preceptor Nalakyn … he’s a good man.”

“I got that impression,” replied Quaeryt.

“Scholar Chardyn … he doesn’t care much for anyone who might be in the favor of Lord Bhayar … or the governor. I know you said you didn’t know much about him, but Da-my father, I mean … I think he had a different impression … and I wouldn’t want…”

“I understand, and I thank you. You don’t have to say more. Your father is a good man, and I doubt if you could do better than to follow his principles.” Quaeryt smiled warmly, trying to disarm the youth. “You could help me with one other matter, if you would.”

“Sir?” Lankyt’s voice lowered, holding worry.

“Is there a taverna around here with good food?”

The youth grinned, as much in relief as anything, Quaeryt suspected.

“There are only two close. Well, three if you count Sullah’s, but no one with any sense goes there. Jardyna has better food, and a singer. The spirits are dear, though. Rufalo’s costs less, but the grub is awful. They’re both along the road to the west, less than half a mille, almost across from each other. Jardyna is the one with the picture of the garden.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I listen a lot, sir. People talk.”

Quaeryt laughed. “Keep listening … and thank you. I’m not so sure I can take another supper here.”

“Some nights I feel like that, sir. I’d better go.”

No sooner were the words spoken than Lankyt turned and hurried down the side corridor, leaving Quaeryt alone in the main corridor, if only for a moment.