L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

As I can, I will dispatch this, with all my desires and affection, and my hopes for our future together …

After he finished, he snuffed out the lamp.

Almost a glass later, he was still lying there. Finally, he relit the lamp and opened Rholan and the Nameless and began to page through it before a section caught his eye.

Even before his disappearance and presumed death, Rholan had come to take on the appellation of “Rholan the Unnamer.” Certainly, he spoke against the sin of Naming, and he spoke well against it in its many manifestations, from boasting and bragging, to vanity-although his strongest words there were reserved for women, as I have noted earlier-and especially to the exultation of titles, and that did little to endear him to young Hengyst, especially when Rholan proclaimed that young rulers too often confuse titles with deeds and then are forced to shed the blood of others to justify the titles they inherited or assumed …

“The exultation of titles…” mused Quaeryt, closing the small volume and setting it on the small night table.

Assuming that Bhayar did defeat Kharst and managed to rule Bovaria, he couldn’t for very long style himself Lord of Telaryn and Rex Bhayar of Bovaria. That would just perpetuate the idea that they’re separate lands. Besides, sooner or later, Antiago would be a problem, if only because Bhayar held Autarch Aliaro responsible for the death of his sister … and Bhayar had been close to Chaerila. According to some rumors, Bhayar had opposed his father’s efforts to wed Chaerila to Aliaro. Because Bhayar had refused to talk about it, Quaeryt had never pressed Bhayar into talking about how the marriage had come about, but having seen Bhayar’s stony grief, Quaeryt could well believe the rumors.

For that reason alone, he doubted that if Bhayar had his way, Antiago would long remain independent-regardless of the cost. And that was yet another reason why Quaeryt needed to keep training and building a corps of imagers, because the Antiagons would certainly have Antiagon Fire to spare for any Telaryn invaders, and given their expertise with cannon onboard their merchanters and warships, cannon as well.

After sitting there for a long time, thinking, he finally snuffed out the lamp and lay down, hoping that he would at last be able to drift into some sort of sleep.

When Quaeryt woke abruptly in the grayness of dawn on Samedi morning, he was still trying to puzzle through the situation facing them. Was Kharst a ruler who simply could not believe that his land could be invaded and his capital threatened? Or was it all part of a strategy, as Quaeryt had believed all along, to suck all of Bhayar’s forces deep into Bovaria and then annihilate them?

All you can do is prepare for the worst … and don’t even hope for the best.

He washed, shaved, and dressed, then made his way down to eat, where he fended off questions from Zhelan and the company officers with the truth-that he hadn’t yet heard from the commander because, in all likelihood, the commander hadn’t heard from the marshal. As he finished eating, he overheard, more than once, words suggesting that there was all too much hurrying up to get places, only to sit and wait.

“You want to hurry on into something worst than Villerive or all those musket attacks?” asked Desyrk. “Go ahead. I’d rather wait.”

Overhearing those words, Quaeryt couldn’t help but smile.

A good glass after Quaeryt mustered men and officers, then sent out his own patrols through the town, he was standing on the porch of the Agile Coney, waiting, when Skarpa rode up, accompanied by a squad from Third Regiment. The commander reined up, vaulted off his mount, handed the reins to the nearest ranker, and jumped over the two steps to the porch. He walked over to Quaeryt and handed him a single sheet of paper.

In the same spirit, Quaeryt said nothing, but began to read, his eyes going quickly to the key phrases of the dispatch.

… You and your regiments, as well as Fifth Battalion, are to remain at Caluse until the bulk of Lord Bhayar’s forces have invested the town. At that point, once you receive orders, you are to begin the advance on Variana, using your regiments and the capabilities of Fifth Battalion, to remove all possible distractions and delays so that, after rest and resupply, the northern forces may proceed as then directed by Lord Bhayar …

Quaeryt managed to keep his face expressionless.

“Now you’ve read it. What do you think?”

Quaeryt knew very well what he thought. Bhayar had indicated he wanted to proceed behind Skarpa’s forces, but Deucalon didn’t want to. So he was reserving his options by not directly contradicting his lord, while he hoped to spend the next day changing Bhayar’s mind.

“Well?” pressed Skarpa.

“It reads as if the marshal is of two minds and has not decided whether to attack Variana with all forces united or to proceed separately. That is why he wishes to preserve control of the bridge.”

Skarpa snorted. “Something like that … except it smells worse than week-old fish in summer … or harvest here in Bovaria.”

“Land of endless summer,” added Quaeryt, keeping his voice light.

“Until we get cold rain and sleet out of nowhere when we least expect it.”

“Right about the time we face endless Bovarian hordes,” countered Quaeryt.

“Something like that.”

“Do you know where the marshal is?”

“Two glasses south of Caluse on the north bank.”

“You want Fifth Battalion ready to move out at noon?”

“That’s my thought, but don’t have anyone mount up until you get word.”

Because we both know Deucalon doesn’t always move his forces with any haste. Quaeryt only nodded. “Is there anything else?”

“I hope not.” Skarpa flashed a sardonic smile, then walked back off the porch.

Quaeryt watched until the commander had ridden down the street, then turned and headed to find Zhelan. He also needed to find a way to dispatch his letter to Vaelora.

The town bells had already struck the first glass of the afternoon before Fifth Battalion actually mounted up and rode out of Caluse, once more in the vanguard.

Less than three milles west of Caluse, the River Aluse began a wide and sweeping curve that, over three milles, resulted in its course running almost due north, a course that would remain generally northward until well beyond Variana. Although Skarpa rode beside Quaeryt, the commander remained tight-lipped, even more self-contained than usual, for close to two glasses. Quaeryt did not press him, knowing that he would offer what he would when he would, although Quaeryt suspected that what Skarpa might say would be less than pleasant.

While he waited for Skarpa to speak, Quaeryt studied the road, the river, and the surrounding terrain, as well as listened intently to the scouts as they reported periodically to Skarpa.

Just after the vanguard rode onto the first few hundred yards where the river and the road both headed north, Quaeryt caught sight of a deep wagon wheel rut on the shoulder of the road, as if the wagon had been pulled over to allow something or someone else to pass. Yet he saw no disturbance, tracks, or gouges in the paving stones … nor any sign the stones had been removed or replaced. Yet the shoulder was of firm ground. There had been little rain, and the depth of the rut and the width of the wheel indicated a heavy load indeed.

Quaeryt couldn’t help but think that the wagon carried something like explosives, cannon shells, or worse … but that was only speculation.

The road itself had come more to resemble the Naedaran road since Caluse, in that it followed higher ground, and there were also few trees between the road and the river, and a cleared space of at least fifty yards to the west of the road before either fields or woods began, mostly fields, with low stone walls marking the edge of the lands. The cots, as usual, were tightly shuttered, and no traces of smoke rose from their chimneys. And there was no sign of any high holdings.