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

behavior.” After another pause, he concluded, “And I don’t know that I’ve answered your question.”
    “I think you have, sir.”
    Quaeryt wasn’t so certain. It’s so easy to self-justify, and so hard to be truly honest about why you do what you do. Rescalyn certainly believed that overthrowing Bhayar would result in better rule of Telaryn … and you believed that a slightly better ruler would not justify all the upheaval and bloodshed. Who was right?
    For all that he believed he had acted wisely, who was truly to say?
    On the remainder of the ride back to the Telaryn Palace, Quaeryt managed not to reveal much more than he’d asked Gauswn to say, despite Lankyt’s curiosity. Once they reached the palace, he found Myskyl, who was surprisingly amenable to letting Lankyt ride with the regiment, then made arrangements for Lankyt to take a room in the west wing, and to eat as a guest in the mess. Finally, Quaeryt hurried to the main section of the palace and up to his and Vaelora’s quarters, where he found her in the study that had become hers.
    She looked up from the table desk where she was writing. “Dearest … why are you here … now?”
    “The scholarium sent a messenger to ask me to come see Cyrethyn—the old chorister. He’s dying and wanted to talk to me. A few things happened. You were right … sooner than you thought…” He went on to explain what happened, ending with … “and I believe Gauswn will keep the details to himself. Asking that of him … it bothers me … yet…”
    “You were right to do so. The longer before anyone knows what you can do, the better.” After a moment, she added, “Grandmere said something like that.”
    “Oh?” Quaeryt truly did wonder what Vaelora’s grandmother might have said.
    “It’s better that others guess than know, because guessing breeds uncertainty, and uncertainty clouds action. That’s what she said.”
    “There’s also another matter I had to deal with. The messenger from the scholarium was young Lankyt. You met him…”
    “The young man who wants to be a holder?”
    “That’s Lankyt. His father has finally agreed…” Quaeryt went on to explain, then said, “I had to persuade Myskyl to allow Lankyt to accompany First Regiment.” He smiled crookedly. “I shouldn’t have had a problem with that, not when they’d planned to overnight near Ayerne, but I do need to make certain that Straesyr understands.” He paused. “I did want to tell you what happened.” He grinned, if raggedly. “And that I did keep my promise.”
    “Sometimes … a woman does know…”
    “More than sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially you.”
    “You’d better tend to Straesyr. You might also tell him that Lord Bhayar was most favorably disposed toward Holder Rhodyn.”
    “I will.” He glanced at the papers on the desk. “More of your writing on governing and people?”
    “Yes … I was thinking…” She smiled. “Let me finish. You can read it when I’ve thought it out. You should do what you must as princeps.”
    “You sound like Straesyr … as though we won’t be here that much longer.”
    “I fear he may be right. I cannot say why.” Her eyes flicked in the direction of the center of the palace.
    “You cannot … or you’d rather not?”
    “I cannot … it is just a feeling.”
    “Farsight?”
    She shook her head. “Just a feeling. Go see Straesyr.”
    Quaeryt doubted that what she sensed was just a feeling, but he only said, “I will see you later.” Then he stepped forward, bent down, and kissed her cheek, before straightening and leaving.

 
     
    10
     
    On Vendrei morning, Quaeryt was up earlier than usual to see Lankyt and First Regiment off, as was Straesyr, if more than thirty yards from where Quaeryt stood, barely after dawn under high clouds and with a northwest wind that suggested the spring thaw was not quite so imminent. Quaeryt also gave a letter of Vaelora’s—addressed to Aelina—to the regular