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 It is a pleasant enough place, although it seems strange that the Bovarian forces have withdrawn without destroying the bridge over the River Aluse …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.
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.
73
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.”