L. Modesitt - Scholar

“They were just trying to destroy supplies?” asked Quaeryt. “With fire arrows?”

“Quarrels filled with flaming pitch … or something like that. They’re trying to make the point that they can destroy our supplies and attack anywhere.”

“The rear guard didn’t go that far after them. They were riding back by the time I got to the supply wagons.”

“No. There’s no point in that. The major did understand that. Before long, we’d be spread over hundreds of milles and be bleeding from scores of cuts.”

Quaeryt waited.

“You aren’t saying anything, scholar.”

“You have a different plan. I was waiting to hear it.”

“It’s simple enough. Once they return to the woods and hills, they split up. There’s no point in trying to track down individuals, but we don’t have to. The winters here are long and cold, and without supplies, even the angriest hill holders can’t do much. First, we break the siege at Boralieu. By besieging it, they’ve done us a favor. That concentrates their forces, and we can do more damage to them. Then we move on each hill hold and level it. We take the supplies we can use and destroy the rest. The hill holders have been a plague on Tilbor for too long.”

“Won’t they just attack the column once you leave Boralieu?”

“That’s what scouts are for. It’s hard on them, but it cuts overall losses.”

While Quaeryt admired the brutal simplicity of the plan, including the fact that it was timed just after most harvests were gathered in, he had to wonder, as he knew he did too often, whether Rescalyn’s abilities matched his confidence.

By the time the column was riding westward again, more than a glass had passed since the attack. Rescalyn and Myskyl had deployed additional scouts, and the column moved more slowly than it had previously, almost ponderously, as the riders and wagons passed through the fields, pastures, and orchards belonging to High Holder Dymaetyn. Quaeryt saw almost no one, and those few men he did catch sight of vanished almost immediately, very understandably. He saw no women at all, although crofter women often worked fields and orchards. That, too, was more than understandable.

Progress was so slow that when the lower edge of the sun touched the horizon, the vanguard was still a good five milles from the scattered woods at the base of the long and broad ridge-like hills that rose on the eastern side of the valley holding Boralieu, and shadows cloaked the spaces between the trees.

“It’s getting late to travel those hills,” said Rescalyn cheerfully.

“You think the hill holders are waiting there.”

“I’m certain they are. Part of the reason for the attack was to delay us enough that we either have to make camp short of the eastern hills or travel them at dusk or later. Either way offers an opportunity for them to attack again.”

“Which way are you choosing, might I ask, sir?”

“What do you think?”

“From what you said earlier, I’d guess-it’s only a guess-that you intend to stop and make camp, but have a battalion or two ready at all times.”

“Something like that.” Rescalyn smiled. “Oh … from here on, you’re attached to Sixth Battalion. They’re three battalions back. You might as well join Major Skarpa now.”

“Yes, sir. Do you have any other instructions for me?”

“I’ll be interested in your observations after the campaign is over, scholar. I trust you’ll be as observant about battles and skirmishes as documents.”

“I’ll do my best, but documents don’t move around the way that soldiers and raiders do.”

Rescalyn laughed. “That’s just one of the differences.” He urged his mount forward to rejoin Commander Myskyl, riding just ahead.

Quaeryt swung the mare wide and out beyond the shoulder. He didn’t push her, just let her walk with the low sun on his back, until he saw the ensign with the six on it, carried by a junior ranker.

Skarpa raised an arm in greeting. “I thought we might be seeing you before long, scholar.” The major grinned as Quaeryt rode toward him. “The commander said you were being sent to us because the governor wanted you to see all the action.”

I’m sure he did … and that he hopes I don’t return from all that action. Quaeryt was glad he’d thought to bring along the old large uniform shirt. That way, at least he wouldn’t stand out too much, but he hadn’t wanted to wear it yet … and not around the governor. “I think he feels scholars need to get out of books and documents and see what really happens.”

“For all that you’re a scholar, and maybe even a chorister of sorts, Master Quaeryt, I don’t see you as one buried in books.”

“I like the books, but the governor has indicated that books and documents aren’t enough for what I must report to Lord Bhayar. As for being a chorister, I’m not friendly enough with the Nameless for that.”

“You don’t sound fond of the governor or the Nameless.”

“I have no doubt that Governor Rescalyn is an excellent commander, and a most effective governor. He can’t help but resent that a young scholar has been sent from Solis and ordered to serve on his staff. It’s my fortune to have both Lord Bhayar and Governor Rescalyn wanting me somewhere else. Under those circumstances, I’d rather be where I am-with Sixth Battalion.” Quaeryt didn’t want to say more about the Nameless, not unless he was pressed.

“We’re glad to have you.”

The next glass passed quickly enough, and before that long, the regiment was setting up camp on a low knoll a good half mille from the nearest tendril of woods on the lower section of the hills. There were no cookfires once the force stopped. The evening meal, such as it was, consisted of hard yellow cheese and harder biscuits. There was also mutton jerky, but Quaeryt had lost his taste for dried mutton that was hard enough to break teeth years before.

As the twilight deepened, and a warm light breeze carried the scent of dry grasses out of the south, Skarpa turned to the scholar. “We’ll be the early guard on the trail from the south. Fifth Battalion will hold the trail on the north side of camp. The hill types won’t come from there or from the south trail. The commander and the governor both know it. Oh … they might send a patrol or a company that way to mislead us, but they’ll never attack us where we’re waiting, not at night. The governor will make sure the hill forces know where we’re posted.”

“They’ll come out of the trees when we’re least likely to be ready?”

“They know the usual watch schedules, and they’ll attack during the time guards and standby forces are being changed.” Skarpa smiled coldly.

“Somehow … I think you’ll be ready.”

“We’ll see. They may decide not to attack. I’m wagering they will.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling I have.” The major paused, then asked, “Do you want to join Meinyt or one of the other captains or undercaptains?”

Quaeryt understood his only choice was which company he would join. “Meinyt … if he’s willing.”

“He’d hoped you would. He says you bring good luck.”

Quaeryt winced.

“Oh … I brought something for you. It’s a little old, but it was the best I could do. I figured since you spent time before the mast, it would work better for you than a sabre.” Skarpa grinned as he extended a half-staff. “Might be harder on horseback, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you going into battle without some sort of weapon.” The major laughed. “I know you’re just supposed to observe, but it’s hard just to observe when you’re in the middle of a fight.”

Quaeryt had already figured that out. He took the staff. Old as it might have been, it was polished and iron-tipped on both ends, with two iron bands around the wood equidistant from the ends and from each other. It was finely balanced, possibly the best half-staff he’d ever held. “This is a good staff. Where did you get it?”