L. Modesitt - Scholar

The trip down the west-end stairs, then out through the west-end rear side door, across the porch, and out to the stable was slow, and painful. Quaeryt was sweating heavily by the time he deposited Chardyn in the empty stall beside the one that held the mare, and Chardyn was far smaller than Quaeryt. Quaeryt took a few moments to catch his breath before he scattered hay and straw over Chardyn, just enough that, if the stable boy did happen to look into the stall, unlikely as that was in the middle of the night, the body wouldn’t be immediately visible.

Then he made his way back to his chamber, where he left a silver on the side table before picking up his bag, Chardyn’s staff, and the rolled-up garments and making the return trip to the stable.

Once back in the stable, he did light a lamp, if wicked down, in order to saddle the mare. He also had to rummage through the stable to find twine to fasten the rolled-up garments and the canvas bag behind the saddle. Then he had to reclaim Chardyn’s body and lift it up and over the front of the saddle before blowing out the lantern and leading the mare out of the stable under a concealment shield.

He mounted and rode down the brick lane to the highway, half-wondering if anyone would hear the sound of hoofs on the bricks and wonder if some sort of spirit or demon horse had left the Ecoliae.

He had just passed the anomen when the bells rang out the first glass after midnight.

Did all that take almost two glasses?

It must have, and that worried him as well. Yet no one had appeared or tried to stop him. For that he could thank the comparative emptiness of the upper level of the west wing. He turned the horse toward the river. He had plenty of time, especially since he wasn’t about to try to enter the Telaryn Palace before the seventh glass of the morning.

Once he had ridden down the lane down from the Ecoliae and was more than a mille away, Quaeryt dropped the concealment shield and continued slowly east and then south until he reached the Albhor River. From there he had to head farther upstream to find an unoccupied wharf from which he could drop Chardyn’s body and staff into the dark water. That way, if the body happened to be found, there would be a certain mystery as to how it arrived there, especially with no marks or wounds. If no one ever found it, that would create another mystery as to what had happened to Scholar Chardyn.

Chardyn’s disappearance or death should keep Phaeryn and Zarxes from immediately victimizing anyone else … and, hopefully, before too long, Quaeryt could find a way to deal with the pair-in a quiet way, because the last thing he wanted was an uproar over a Scholars’ House. There were too few of them in Telaryn as it was, and he didn’t want every city regarding scholars the way people seemingly did in Nacliano. And since the scholars and the governor appeared anything but on the most distant of terms, he’d have to bring up the matter slowly … and later. Especially since you’ll need scholars to be well-regarded for what else you have in mind.

After dropping the body, he rode back down the river to the ferry piers, where he turned north on the good road leading to the Telaryn Palace. He was careful to keep the mare well in the middle of the road and away from any shadows. The aching throbbing in his arm and shoulder reminded him that he needed enough time to be able to image a defense.

You might even think about a better way to use imaging as a defense. While that was a wonderful thought, at that moment he didn’t have the faintest idea how he might accomplish such a defense. All he’d been able to do was to use imaging to divert, disable, or kill people who were attacking him.

With those thoughts swirling through his head, he kept riding. After another half glass, he stopped and dismounted to water the mare at a public fountain in a small square that was eerily quiet. The square was dark, because Artiema had set, and there were no lamps or lanterns lit, but Quaeryt could see well enough. Then he mounted again and kept riding northward at a leisurely pace. He did worry that his progress through the outskirts of Tilbora was marked by the barking of dogs, but only one actually came anywhere close to the mare before stopping in an alleyway and barking until Quaeryt was well out of sight-or smell.

Even taking his time, before that long Quaeryt was soon on the north side of Tilbora and nearing the Telaryn Palace, and he began to look for a place where he could wait until it was light enough and late enough in the morning to ride up to the gates. He finally found a short hedgerow on the north side of a small field to the southwest of the palace, where he dismounted and tied the mare.

Eventually, dawn came, and then sunrise.

Once there was light, Quaeryt took out the wax-sealed document case, turning it over in his hands under the early light. Then, after looking more closely, he froze. The wax sealing the case had been replaced. It was still sealed, but not as he had sealed it. He’d looked at the case any number of times since leaving Rhodyn and Darlinka, but he hadn’t examined it closely.

He swallowed, then took out his belt knife and carefully scraped away the wax, easing open the case. Inside, in addition to the appointment letter and the letter from Vaelora was a small folded paper-and two golds. Quaeryt opened the paper and read the lines, written in Bovarian.

Please forgive me for this intrusion. While I am trusting, I am not that trusting. Accept these tokens as payment for my lack of trust, and my wishes that may all be well with you.

The signature was that of Rhodyn.

“The old namer-demon,” murmured Quaeryt, smiling as he did. He couldn’t blame the man for his care. Had the letter from Vaelora helped? Probably only in reinforcing that he was who he’d said he was. There wasn’t even a name at the bottom, only her initial.

After a moment, he took both the note from Rhodyn and the letter from Vaelora and slid them into the inside hidden jacket pocket, then slipped the golds into empty slots in his belt. The document case went into the larger inside jacket pocket. He straightened in the saddle and surveyed the lane again. He still had at least a glass to wait before he could approach the gates.

Only a handful of wagons passed the hedgerow lane on the main road while he waited. Finally, he judged that it was late enough that he could make his way to the palace.

As he neared the gates, he rode down through a vale and past a row of cafes and shops he didn’t recall from his previous ride through the area, seemingly located amid small plots of lands, and he wondered why they were there. Then his eyes flashed to the Telaryn Palace, and he nodded. To separate the soldiers from their pay and to provide diversions from boring duties, but away from the main part of Tilbora.

Before long, Quaeryt reined up short of the two guards before the gates. “Good morning.”

“What do you want, scholar?” demanded the shorter and stockier man, wearing the undress green uniform of a Telaryn soldier, set off by black boots and a wide black leather belt, with a matching short sword scabbard on one side and a knife sheath on the other. He was not wearing the uniform jacket, but few soldiers did except in winter-and almost never in Solis.

“I’m supposed to report to Princeps Straesyr. I’m his new scholar assistant.”

“And I’m-” began the guard who had spoken first, before the other guard cleared his throat. “What?”

“Seems to me … weren’t we looking for a scholar…?”

“… supposed to be here weeks ago…”

“The ship I was on got caught in a nor’easter, went on the rocks…” Quaeryt said loudly. “That slowed me down.”