L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“That’s so,” said Skarpa, “but there had to be one.”

But why this one? Quaeryt didn’t voice the question. He had no answer and had no doubt that none of the others did, either.

“Well…” drawled Skarpa, “it seems to me that we might as well spend the night here. The Bovarians can’t get us all right now, because we’re not all here, and it will be more than a day before the marshal reaches the north side of the bridge. We’ll set out extra sentries and keep more troopers on standby. I’ll send off a dispatch to the marshal declaring our intent to stay here until his forces can arrive to take over protecting the bridge and requesting his instructions. Then we’ll see.” After a pause he added, “We’ll enter the town with all arms ready, using the three different roads, with space between units to allow different points of attack.”

Khaern nodded, if skeptically, followed by Meinyt.

Skarpa took less than a quint to outline the plan of approach or attack, with Third Regiment leading the way, and Fifth Battalion moving out to cover the road from Variana.

By the first glass of the afternoon, despite all Quaeryt’s concerns, Fifth Battalion occupied the Agile Coney, one of the close to a score of inns that the town boasted, as well as two nearby inns and their outbuildings and stables. Once he was convinced that all the companies were not only settled, but ready to respond to any sort of immediate attack, with imager undercaptains assigned to each company, since their shields, limited as they were, would be of far greater advantage within a town, Quaeryt returned to the Agile Coney.

As he walked up onto the wide porch, empty of anything but a single plain wooden bench, his eyes took in the signboard that depicted a muscular rabbit leaping over a stone wall. Both the signboard and the name suggested to Quaeryt that Caluse had never been an integral part of Naedara. At least, the rabbit’s not black. He still wondered about why the black marble statuette of the coney had been smashed and buried under the stone with a chiseled inscription … and who had done it for what purpose.

Quaeryt located the innkeeper with whom he and Zhelan had dealt earlier. The slightly stooped but clean-shaven Culum was arranging tables in the public room.

“This is your inn?” Remembering to speak Bovarian, Quaeryt noticed, for the first time, that the man’s right arm was shorter than his left and his left hand was twisted slightly.

“Ah … it is my grandsire’s, sir, if he remains alive.”

“So far, we haven’t killed anyone. We told you that before. If we’re not attacked, we won’t. They left you here to see if you could manage? Or because they felt we wouldn’t slaughter a man who was crippled?”

“Might be both, Commander.”

“Subcommander. The insignia are gold for commanders. How long has your family owned the inn?”

“Since my great-grandsire, sir. That was when Rex Hrensol built the grand road on the south side of the river from Variana, and the first bridge.”

“Why did he build the road? There’s only a good road from Nordeau west. Farther east, the south road is little more than a trail in places.”

“I’m certain I wouldn’t be knowing that, sir. It was well before my time.”

“That may be, but an innkeeper-or an innkeeper’s son or grandson hears stories…” Quaeryt image-projected friendliness and curiosity.

“It’s only a story … but … well … some say that it was after the good rex built his white palace on the hill south of the River Aluse, and he wanted travelers to approach it along the great avenue beside the river.” Culum shrugged. “Others say it was because Hrensol wanted traders to avoid Kurmitag. That was the town where High Holder Kurm had his timber and woolen mills. Can’t say as which story might be true. Might be neither is.”

“Where did the name of the inn come from?”

“That’d be a strange question, sir.”

“Not so strange. Some of the folks to the east don’t seem too fond of coneys.”

Culum laughed. “Old aunt’s tales. My great-grandsire’s wife’s father raised rabbits … big fat juicy ones. He said that you had to be an agile coney to get around the old man, but he did, and he wed my great-grandmom. My grandsire laughs when he talks about it.” He paused. “Your men’ll be careful of the kitchen?”

“As best we can.”

“You’ll keep ’em from breaking the chairs and benches?”

“We haven’t broken any in other inns.” After a moment Quaeryt asked, “You have problems with Rex Kharst’s troopers?”

“It’d not be my place to say, sir.”

Quaeryt understood. He smiled. “You’ll find that Lord Bhayar’s troopers are far more careful.” And they’d Namer-well better be. “That’s something Lord Bhayar expects.”

Culum opened his mouth, then shut it, before finally speaking. “Be most appreciated, Commander.”

Quaeryt didn’t correct him.

By the time all the officers and troopers had been fed and settled once more into quarters on Vendrei night, Quaeryt had taken one squad or another through Caluse at least three times, as well as once a good three milles west on the river road. He’d seen nothing, and neither had any of the sentries or the scouts, but he continued to worry about what the Bovarians had planned.

Skarpa had received no messages, orders, or dispatches back from Deucalon, although neither he nor Quaeryt had expected such a dispatch until Samedi. Quaeryt had to trust that Bhayar would accept his suggestions, but if Bhayar did, that might mean that Myskyl, and possibly Deucalon, would realize the extent of Quaeryt’s influence. In turn, that would doubtless result in another attempt by the submarshal and the marshal to place Quaeryt and Fifth Battalion in a position of maximum danger-and that would also place the imager undercaptains in great danger … when every imager lost would make Quaeryt’s goals harder to reach, especially against the opposition of Myskyl and Deucalon, not to mention those senior officers beholden to them.

Even after all his patrols, when he retired to his room in the Agile Coney, Quaeryt was restless and could not sleep.

Although he had written Vaelora a week before, and had not yet received another letter from her, after tomorrow or perhaps Solayi, he doubted he would have time to write … unless, for some reason, Kharst avoided battle, but how long that might be, especially if Bhayar followed Deucalon’s counsel, Quaeryt had no idea. With those thoughts in mind, he took out a sheet of paper and began to write, painstakingly, since he did not wish to redraft his thoughts.

My dearest,

We are now in the rather large town of Caluse, some twenty-odd milles east of Variana. It is a pleasant enough place, although it seems strange that the Bovarian forces have withdrawn without destroying the bridge over the River Aluse …

He went on to describe the town and what had happened since his previous letter, then turned to other thoughts.

I cannot but think often of you and of our child to come, and the world into which she will be born, especially since I realized, by way of comparison to a cool morning in Nordruil, the meaning of the separate bedchamber in the chateau of your great-grandmere. Much as I know, if we are successful, that life in Variana will be unsettled, and possibly dangerous, I would wish that you join me as soon as practical and possible, since, for many of the reasons we have discussed, I think it highly unlikely that, given my future duties and goals, I will be able to return to Solis in the foreseeable future …

How do you close a letter like this? Quaeryt shook his head.