Read Online Antiagon Fire by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online

to Khel.” Bhayar sat back slightly and tilted his head to the left. “That leaves another matter. Do you honestly believe that you and your imagers can rein in the High Holders in the years to come?”
    “Don’t you?”
    “You weren’t exactly as effective as you could have been in Montagne.”
    “I was as effective as necessary in order to restore order. And … I was acting alone. The outcry would have died away.”
    “Especially if something … an accident or sickness … had happened to another High Holder?”
    Quaeryt nodded.
    “You are capable of that. I know.”
    “I’d prefer not to act that way, but it’s far better to remove one man than fight uprisings and rebellions.”
    “How long will it take?”
    “As necessary, we can begin to do what needs to be done once I return from Khel.”
    “Not until then?” A faint, almost humorous smile flitted across Bhayar’s lips.
    “You need to give the High Holders time to misbehave. That way, any accidents or illnesses will be seen as a result of their actions and not mere greed for their lands on your part.”
    “But not too much time.”
    “No.” Quaeryt shook his head. “But you will need to allow us the resources to build the scholarium. The imagers cannot be seen as merely your tool. We need to prove useful to many, so that the people, especially in Khel and Bovaria, will support them.”
    “And not in Telaryn?”
    “That will come, but it is not as necessary.”
    “I suppose not.” Bhayar stretched, then stood. “I’d best ready myself for a long dinner.”
    “Better you than me.”
    “Your turn will come, right after you return.”
    If I return successfully. “We’ll face that then.”
    “Along with more than you ever dreamed possible, Quaeryt.”
    “You’re so encouraging.”
    “What else can I be when you’re married to Vaelora?”
    “Remind me to talk to Aelina when she arrives.”
    “Don’t worry. You won’t have to. Vaelora will tell you everything.” Bhayar gestured toward the study door. “Go.”
    Quaeryt grinned, then bowed, turned, and made his way out.

 
    6
    At two quints before ninth glass on Samedi morning, Quaeryt had just stamped and then brushed his muddy boots off on the stone floor of the south-facing covered porch of the scholarium some five milles north of the Chateau Regis.
    Nearly two glasses to cover four milles on what wouldn’t have been called a path in Telaryn. Were all the side roads in Bovaria that bad, or was that because the scholars were in as much disfavor in Bovaria as in Telaryn? You may find out shortly.
    He glanced back below the porch at the terraced gardens, their low walls composed of local stones stacked and barely fitted together. The ground between the walls was bare, and the stalks and stubble had been turned under the soil, crudely, for Quaeryt could see parts of stalks protruding.
    He turned. Two rankers, hands on the hilts of their sabres, stood behind him as he crossed the porch to the door, still carrying full heavy imaging shields. Before Quaeryt reached the door, it opened.
    “Who might you be?” offered the lean, almost emaciated, man with straggly blond hair, who wore scholars’ browns of a somewhat different cut than those worn by the scholars of Telaryn.
    “Quaeryt Rytersyn, scholar and commander in the Southern Army of Telaryn. I’m here to see the maitre.”
    The scholar glanced at the two armed rankers and the mounted squad drawn up at the foot of the stone steps, then back at Quaeryt. “I don’t suppose we can exactly stop you.”
    “I have no ill intentions.”
    “I suppose not, not if you are asking. If you would follow me, sir…”
    Quaeryt ignored the grudging tone of the “sir” and followed the scholar into the two-story oblong brick structure. The rankers followed, the second closing the door.
    The scholar walked through a square entry hall floored with boot-scarred slate and down a narrow corridor to a dark gold oak door, half ajar. “Maitre,