L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“We’ve seen boats putting out from the north side of the river. They’ve had Bovarians in uniform watching us.” Meinyt looked to Quaeryt. “You didn’t see any sign of scouts, did you?”

“No tracks, no sign of them.”

“Except for the river, neither have we,” said the grizzled subcommander. “How long does Deucalon want us to sit here waiting?”

“He’s decided to move,” replied Skarpa. “This afternoon, just before supper, I received orders to advance to the town just east of Villerive. That’s why I was talking to the quartermasters about supplies. We’re to head west immediately and take up positions to be able to move within glasses to intercept any Bovarians using the bridge at Villerive. We’re also to keep the bridge from being destroyed.” Skarpa glanced at Quaeryt. “Or be prepared to rebuild it.”

Quaeryt winced. “I think we need to be closer than that to the bridge.”

“We’ll see.”

“Did the marshal say anything about how they’re doing?”

“Only that they are advancing steadily without significant opposition.” Skarpa snorted. “We’ll likely run into that at Villerive.”

“Or Nordeau,” suggested Quaeryt.

“Why do you think they’ll wait until Nordeau?” Skarpa’s voice was level.

“If the maps are accurate, Nordeau is only a hundred milles from Variana. We’re already two hundred milles into Bovaria. Villerive is close to eighty milles east of Nordeau. If they wait at Nordeau, rather than Villerive, Kharst will have more time to bring forces from the west and southwest. He has to know that he’ll need every man and mount he can gather.”

“You don’t think they’ll just let us take Villerive?”

“No. If I were Kharst, I’d try to bleed us as much as possible, using as few troopers as necessary, all the way from Villerive to Nordeau.”

“They’ll try and hold us until the fall rains come,” said Meinyt. “Until winter, maybe. Said that Deucalon should have moved faster.”

“It may be that Lord Bhayar has made that point,” suggested Skarpa. “Regardless … we are where we are, and you need to have your men ready to move out at seventh glass in the morning, Subcommander Meinyt.”

“Sixth glass for Fifth Battalion?” asked Quaeryt. “So we can pick up those supplies from Fauxheld?”

Skarpa nodded. “I’ll have the quartermasters’ wagons following you. You’ll need to have all dispatches and reports ready just before sixth glass.” He swallowed the last from his mug, then set it on the table and stood. “That’s all.”

Quaeryt and Meinyt rose as well, and then left to inform their officers.

It was more than a glass later before Quaeryt entered his room, and half a glass more before he finished his report to Bhayar. Only then did he turn to finishing his letter to Vaelora, beginning by recounting the events at Fauxheld before adding his own musings.

I cannot help but be amazed at the convolutions implied by their acts and attitudes toward each other. Fauxyn owes all that he enjoys to his wife, and attractive as she is, if not nearly so beautiful and charming as you, and certainly far colder within, neither she nor any other woman appeals to him, yet it appears as though he would deny her the pleasure of masculine company while pursuing his own interests … to the point that Kharst seems to have banished him to his own holding. Fauxyn even left her to face us as occupiers, and then intruded when it appeared that she might succeed in mollifying us and saving the holding. These events suggest much about Bovaria, at least as it appears to me. A man must hold title to the lands of a High Holder, but a weak man or one who is overt in his interests in other men is banished to his lands, and not removed, yet a woman who is of the bloodline and competent cannot hold and direct those lands. Kharst has enough power to restrict that holder to his lands, but not enough to allow a woman to administer them in preference to an incompetent consort not of the bloodline. Or he is unwilling to do so for other reasons.

Such banishment suggests that Kharst holds enough power that he can compel, by force of arms, or other means, High Holders to his will to a far greater extent than can Lord Bhayar, and yet he is either unwilling or unable to impose justice upon them.

This, of course, raises questions for the future. How can a ruler have enough power to keep High Holders within limits and yet be limited in his use of power to the extent that he or his successors do not become the willful sort of tyrant that, from all reports, Kharst has become? I confess, at this moment, I have no answers, even in theory.

And now, my dearest, I must close, if I am to dispatch this tomorrow morning, and I know not when I will next be able to send what I write, far more often than it can be dispatched. My love to you and the child that is and will be.

Quaeryt swallowed as he signed the bottom of the last sheet, thinking about the fact that he and Vaelora would have a child, the Nameless willing. Then he smiled ironically in realizing he had once more called on a deity he did not even know existed.

Just as the sixth bell struck on Jeudi morning, Quaeryt lowered his arm, and Fifth Battalion rode out of Caernyn. When the remaining two regiments left a glass later, Skarpa would be leaving a company behind, but half of those were effectively riding wounded who would provide a continuing Telaryn presence while completing their recovery.

The early morning sky was filmed with a silver haze that suggested another hot day in harvest would follow. Not that almost all days in harvest aren’t hot, sticky, and dusty, reflected Quaeryt. But then, Caernyn and the River Aluse, at least from Ferravyl to Variana, were only slightly north of Solis, and Solis had always been nearly unbearable to Quaeryt from midsummer to midharvest. At that recollection, Quaeryt thought of Vaelora, hoping that she would not suffer too much from the heat, although she did have the fountain garden at the palace, where he had first met her, and which was always much cooler.

Fifth Battalion reached Fauxheld somewhat after eighth glass. Two guards in peach livery awaited them and began to unlock the river road gates.

As they did, Quaeryt gathered the officers. “While the quartermasters are loading supplies, you can water the mounts down at the river, but the men are not to damage or remove anything. Once we’re loaded, we’ll be leaving.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply.

“Imager undercaptains will water their mounts first and then return to where I am at the holding buildings.”

The affirmation from the undercaptains was quick, but muted, and Quaeryt guided the mare to the side of the lane to let the undercaptains and Major Zhelan lead the battalion down to the river. Once they had passed, he led the wagons toward the hold house … and the storehouse beyond.

When he and the quartermasters and their supply wagons reached the paved area off the portico, he could see that Ghretana was waiting. She wore green trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a sleeveless vest of a green that matched the trousers.

Quaeryt reined up short of her. “Good morning, Lady Fauxyn. We won’t be long, and we’ll leave enough for the holding, with supplies at least until the end of harvest, if not longer.”

“I appreciate your consideration, Subcommander. We’re not likely to receive such from Variana. Rex Kharst has announced that he will take the lands of any High Holder who supplies the enemies of Bovaria.”

“Then we shall have to make certain that this part of Lydar remains Telaryn.” Quaeryt smiled.

“It appears that we have little choice.”

Quaeryt merely nodded, glancing toward the retainers. When he did not see the taller scarred man, he said, “There was a tall retainer … with a scar over his left eye?”