Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

higher.
    Even the rations seemed to taste of mud.
    Late on Solayi, just before sunset, Quaeryt and Vaelora rode up the narrow brick-paved lane that led to Rhodyn’s main hold house and that was thankfully free of mud
    Lankyt stood on the front steps, peering out into the low western sun. “Princeps? Is that you? And your lady?”
    “Both of us.” Quaeryt did not dismount. Although he was hoping for a warm reception, he knew Bhayar’s forces had already imposed greatly on Rhodyn, although Bhayar himself, according to Vaelora, had reimbursed the holder for his entourage.
    “Let me tell Father. He’ll want to see you.”
    “I’d like to see him.”
    As Lankyt reentered the dwelling, Vaelora turned in the saddle. “He is a sweet young man.”
    “He also loves the land, and his father.”
    “That speaks well of Rhodyn.”
    “It does.” Yet Quaeryt wondered if such love of parents resulted just from the parents’ acts. Jorem loved his father—that was also clear, even if the eldest son had not wished to leave Bhorael and the family of his Pharsi wife. Yet Syndar, who would likely make a solid scholar, did not seem to manifest the same devotion toward his sire, while Lankyt did. Was there something about being a middle son? Quaeryt didn’t know, or have any way of knowing.
    In moments, Rhodyn was standing on the front steps.
    “Holder Rhodyn,” announced Quaeryt, “I fear I’m here to take advantage of your hospitality once again.”
    “Nonsense, your presence is welcome, and that of your lady.” The gray-haired holder inclined his head. “Lady Vaelora, it is a pleasure to see you again. You did not tell me that one of the purposes of your journey to Tilbora was to wed the princeps.”
    Vaelora laughed, huskily, but warmly. “I did not know that was what my brother had in mind. I had hoped for such, but he gave neither of us any choice.”
    “A wise man.” Rhodyn looked to Quaeryt. “I can offer dry quarters to all, as I have before, such as they are, but my table is limited. Perhaps you might ask the commander and any majors or other officers he might wish to include?”
    “I will certainly ask … but I do not know what his duties may entail. I do not know that you have heard, but Mount Extel has exploded, and much of Extela is in ruins. That is where we are bound.”
    “That does not bode well.”
    “No … and there are fears Rex Kharst may attempt to take advantage of the situation.”
    “That would be…” Rhodyn stopped and shook his head. “I should not keep you cold and mounted. You two, at least, must have a warmer room for the evening, and if you would convey my invitation?”
    “I will accept that room, for my lady, especially, although I fear it is more accurate to say that I am her princeps.”
    “That verges on disrespect … again,” murmured Vaelora, but Quaeryt could hear the unvoiced laughter beneath the words.
    “Let me take your mount, Lady,” insisted Lankyt, hurrying up.
    “That would be most kind of you,” replied Vaelora, her voice conveying relief, appreciation, and warmth without the slightest trace of condescension. She dismounted with a grace that Quaeryt could only envy.
    “I will convey your invitation to Commander Skarpa and return as I am able,” he said. “And I do thank you for the invitation and hospitality.”
    It took Quaeryt close to a quint to locate Skarpa, out near the largest outbuilding, and to offer Rhodyn’s invitation.
    “We’ll take the invitation,” said Skarpa with a laugh. “That way, we can save a few rations. It’s better food, but we do pay holders what we can, anyway.”
    “I saw the golds on the manifest for the regiment, but what would you pay for what he’s offering?”
    “Ten golds.”
    “Can you do fifteen if I add a few personally?”
    Skarpa laughed again. “The governor already told me to give him twenty, for all he’s done, and not to take your coins. Not here, anyway.”
    “The men won’t mind if we eat …