L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“Subcommander imaged that wall in place, except it was all the way across the bridge, until Threkhyl removed the middle part … Subcommander led the charge that broke their pikemen, and then rode three milles and took out the Bovarian catapults and their Antiagon Fire…”

Quaeryt winced, noticeably enough that Skarpa chuckled and said, in a voice that barely carried to Quaeryt, “You can’t keep what you’ve done that quiet.”

“Except among Deucalon’s senior officers,” Quaeryt murmured back.

“They don’t care much for scholars who are good commanders.”

“Or those officers who are the best commanders.”

“Too many marshals and submarshals are like ministers that swarm around a ruler. They toady up to him. Worried more that a better commander might replace them than about the best way to win. Might be why we got Khaern. He might show up some of Deucalon’s favorites.”

Quaeryt certainly hoped so. He’d been impressed by Khaern’s quiet assurance when they had met the afternoon before.

Once they were over the bridge and through south Villerive, Quaeryt couldn’t help but notice that locals had been digging where the imagers had buried defenders under the flattened earthworks. Scavengers … but how can you blame them with the way Kharst treats his own people?

While Quaeryt had anticipated that the road to Nordeau would quickly deteriorate once they left the more populated area, it did not. Less than a mille west of what remained of the earthworks, the south river road ended at a road that had come from the south-one that was narrower than the compacted clay and gravel way that had led out of Villerive, but constructed of a solid, if somewhat worn, gray stone, wide enough, if barely, for two wagons side by side. It was also far more level than the river road had been heretofore-except for the one stretch near the old canal.

Quaeryt looked south, but the road angled to the southwest, its course not following the valleys but low ridges and even cut into the gentle hillsides in places. The dust over the stone indicated it was seldom traveled to the south.

He turned to Skarpa. “This is a better road than the one out of Villerive. The maps don’t give an indication how good it is.”

“Could be that it won’t last. Might just be a stretch leading to a High Holder’s place.”

At Skarpa’s remark, Quaeryt realized that for the last thirty milles or so leading into Villerive, they’d seen no trace of a High Holder. Was that another reason why the Bovarians drove off the locals? Or aren’t there many High Holders around on this side of the river? There was so much he didn’t know and not enough time to find it out.

His eyes went back to the road, and then to a low retaining wall on the side of the road away from the river. He frowned. Where did you last see stonework like this? After a moment he remembered. The Naedaran canal!

Quaeryt wondered just how long the paving would last, but after five milles it showed no sign of vanishing. Although the map showed it as just the south river road, and did not depict the section running southeast from outside Villerive, Quaeryt had the feeling that the road might have once run all the way to Chelaes, not that he had any way of proving that at the moment. If so, it suggested that Villerive wasn’t nearly so old as it appeared, or that it had been little other than a village until recently, because if a city of any size had existed at the time the Naedarans had controlled the area, the road from Chelaes would likely have gone more directly to Villerive.

When they stopped to water the mounts and give the men a break just after noon, Quaeryt couldn’t resist saying to Skarpa, “Quite a stretch for a High Holder’s drive.”

Skarpa smiled back. “He must have wanted it badly.”

As Quaeryt considered the road, that gave him an idea for a homily-one that would be appropriate whether he had to conduct services that night or sometime in the future.

By late afternoon there was still no sign that the ancient stone road would disappear, but the scouts rode back and reported. “Sirs, about a mille ahead there’s a holding. Looks like a High Holder’s place. Gates are locked, but we can see the hold house, and it’s shuttered. Couldn’t see anyone around.”

“Might be a good place to stop,” Skarpa said to Quaeryt. “Why don’t you see?”

“Shaelyt, Khalis, join me. Undercaptain Ghaelyn … if you’d assign a squad to accompany us?”

“Yes, sir. First squad on the subcommander!”

A quint later Quaeryt reined up before the entry lane on the south side of the stone-paved road that continued westward into the distance. The iron gates to the holding were attached to pillars a yard square, each faced with dark red brick and topped with a square flat gray capstone. A low wall, less than two yards high, extended for thirty yards on each side of the gates before merging with ancient hedgerows. A large single lock held the chains that secured the gates.

Quaeryt turned to Shaelyt. “If you would remove the lock, Undercaptain.”

“Yes, sir.” Shaelyt dismounted, handed his mount’s reins to Khalis, and walked over to the gates. After a moment the lock hasp separated from the body, and Shaelyt caught the lock, then extracted the hasp from the chains.

“Squad Leader, if you’d have troopers open the gates,” ordered Quaeryt.

In moments Shaelyt had set the lock and hasp on the stone paving by the gate pillar and remounted, while two troopers were unwinding the chain and then opening the gates.

Once the gates were open, Quaeryt eased the mare forward and led the way. The lane to the hold house was paved in the same gray stone as the ancient road and ran straight back less than two hundred yards to the top of a rise so low that the incline was barely perceptible.

When Quaeryt reached the square paved area before the hold house, he reined up. The hold house itself was modest, at least for a High Holder’s dwelling, built of a dark reddish brick with a rose-colored tile roof and perhaps only a third again as large as Factor Saarcoyn’s dwelling. The main entry had a small roofed porch, not even a portico, behind which was the main section of the dwelling, large and square, from which extended two wings. The shutters, tightly closed, were of dark stained wood, while the wooden trim was painted an off-white. The wide single front door was of oiled oak and ironbound.

Quaeryt dismounted, handing the mare’s reins to Shaelyt, and walked to the door, carrying full shields. He pounded on the door, not expecting any response … and after a time was convinced that he would receive none.

He studied the door for a moment, then concentrated, trying to image away the door hinges. Nothing seemed to happen. He stepped forward and pressed on the door. It shivered, but did not move. Then he pulled on the door lever-and jumped to the side as the door leaned toward him and then crashed down on the stone paved entryway. In the archway behind the door was an iron gratework. Quaeryt could see the bolts holding it in place and imaged them away. The gratework fell inward and struck the polished stone floor of the narrow entry hall with a dull clung .

With three troopers leading the way, Quaeryt made a quick inspection of the dwelling. Some of the larger and more common furnishings remained, but only those that were worn, at least what would have been considered worn for a High Holder. Everything smaller and of value had been removed-and relatively recently, from the lack of dust. After checking the hold house, Quaeryt returned to the front, mounted, and rode to the courtyard on the west side between the dwelling and the three outbuildings.

None of the three had been constructed recently, but all had rose-colored tile roofs that appeared comparatively newer than the buildings. The smallest and oldest-looking structure was of one story, square, and built of gray stones that looked to be similar, if not identical, to the paving stones in the ancient road, while the long stable and what seemed to be a warehouse were built of the same dark reddish brick as the hold house. Do the road, the lane, and the oldest building actually date back to Naedaran times?