“Oh…”
Skarpa nodded. “That’s another problem you might have to face. If it comes to that, and after what you did at Ferravyl, it probably will.”
As if you needed another one. “At least, if that’s true, his imagers were killing High Holders and not merchants and the common people.”
Skarpa frowned. “That’s better?”
“How many High Holders who support Kharst is Bhayar likely to allow to retain their lands? You can’t punish every factor and merchant in Bovaria, but you could…” Quaeryt paused, then shut his mouth.
“Could what?”
“I was going to say that Bhayar could replace most of the High Holders, but he can’t. Not unless he wants chaos.”
This time, Skarpa was the one to shake his head-again.
Once the entire column was clear of the bridge, Quaeryt cleared his throat. “Sir … if you don’t mind…”
Skarpa smiled. “Go.”
After a nod, Quaeryt turned the mare and rode down the shoulder of the narrow dirt road that was barely wide enough for a single wagon. He finally eased the mare in beside Major Calkoran.
“Sir?” The Khellan officer did not conceal his surprise at Quaeryt’s presence.
“It will be some time before we encounter any Bovarians. You fought them for a long time.” Quaeryt kept his Bovarian as precise as he could.
“On the borders for years. Almost a year after they invaded. We almost broke them at Khelgror. There were too many of them.”
“You have seen how they fight. You know what they do well … and what they do not. I have fought the Tilborans, but not the Bovarians. I would like to hear what you can tell me about the Bovarians.”
“You know we do not trust any of the rulers in Lydar.”
“I do.” Quaeryt laughed softly. “One must take care with all rulers, but I believe Lord Bhayar to be the best of those who remain.”
“So it is said.” Calkoran shrugged. “Why do you think so?”
“His father punished those who attacked Pharsi women in Tilbor. The son upheld the same values in Extela.”
“The word is that you upheld those values and were removed.” Calkoran fixed his dark eyes on the subcommander.
Quaeryt shook his head. “I was removed because I angered the merchants and the High Holders. I would not let them charge too much for flour after the eruption in Extela. I supported the Pharsi who stopped a soldier from violating a girl, and Lord Bhayar supported me in that.” That was close enough to the truth, although the reality had been more complex.
“Did you take any golds?”
“No.”
“Not a one?”
“Only what I was paid as governor.”
“That is what the major who is paymaster said.” Calkoran laughed. “You must be the only governor who did not fill his purse.”
Quaeryt shrugged.
“Why?”
Quaeryt decided to tell the truth behind it all. “I would not be content with golds. My dreams are larger. I want a land where Pharsi, scholars, and imagers can all be what they will, under the same laws as everyone else.”
Calkoran looked at him, then said quietly, “You are either mad … or a lost one.”
“Is there any difference?”
The major smiled and shook his head. “Let me tell you what I know about the Bovarians. They follow their officers, but most follow like they are sheep … They attack in mass formations…”
That was what they did at Ferravyl …
“… they try to split your forces and then butcher any who are cut off … They ask for surrender. If one does not surrender, they show no mercy … not to men or women…”
Quaeryt continued to listen as he rode beside the major under a clear sky and a morning sun that was already hot and threatened to be sweltering by midday and intolerable by midafternoon.
9
Meredi morning dawned early and warm, promising to be even hotter and damper than the previous two days. The south river road had not narrowed, but it had become more and more rutted with each mille traveled toward Rivecote. The local people were mostly croppers and peasants, from what Quaeryt saw of their fields and cots, for not a person was visible when the regiments rode by dwellings or through hamlets. Nor was any livestock, and while he saw a few dogs, they were at a distance. He couldn’t blame the locals.
Although there were no signs of Bovarians, Quaeryt continued to carry full imaging shields, rather than the lighter shields that triggered full shields, as part of his efforts to rebuild his imaging endurance. Just before eighth glass, Quaeryt was riding with Major Zhael, who had obviously talked with Calkoran, since Zhael asked no questions about Quaeryt’s background.
“What did the Bovarians do that you did not expect them to do?” asked Quaeryt.
“We thought they would do their worst, and they did.”
“What sorts of things?”
Zhael offered a sour smile. “They burned the grasslands so the forage for our horses was less. They burned every dwelling beside any road they traveled. When they could not burn crops they rode their horses through the fields and broke the plants.”
“Did they offer any reasons?”
“They did. They told those who survived that the destruction was because they had not accepted the merciful offers of Rex Kharst.” Zhael spat away from Quaeryt. “We know the mercy of the Bovarians. A generation ago all the Pharsi in Kherseilles had their shops and their lands taken after the Rex invaded. They were marched into the barrens north of Mantes and told to rebuild there. Many fled to Khel. Rex Kharst’s father demanded their return. Our High Council refused. The rex did not want them back. He wanted a reason to attack us. He did. We defeated his best, and sent them back to Variana with their tails between their legs, those that even had tails remaining, and we re-took Kherseilles.”
“What was different this time?”
“The Red Death. Some say that Kharst loosed sick rodents from merchant ships he had hired. Others say he worked the pus from victims into cheap woolens. The plague started in Eshtora, Ouestan, and Pointe Neiman. Almost half the young men in Khelgror died … and many of the young women.”
Quaeryt had known of the plague that had ravaged the west of Lydar five years previously, and Vaelora had mentioned the deaths in Khelgror. But half the young men?
“I see your doubt. Most great illnesses take the old and the children. This one did not. It took all ages, but mostly the young and hale.”
“Why do you think Kharst was to blame?”
“He had his armies ready in the spring after the cold of winter. We almost threw them back, but we had too few troopers. Even the women fought. They suffered horribly if they were captured. Most would not let themselves be taken.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Quaeryt didn’t know what else to say.
“You could not have known.” Zhael shrugged fatalistically. “Few who were not there would believe.”
Quaeryt understood more why the Khellans were so determined to fight against Kharst. But can you keep their rage limited to the Bovarian fighting men?
They rode quietly for a time, Quaeryt blotting his forehead now and again, continually readjusting his visor cap, wondering how much hotter it would get, and knowing that it would.
Then, more than a mille ahead, above the trees on the south side of the road, Quaeryt saw smoke, more than was likely from a hamlet’s chimneys in summer. “Excuse me, Major, I need to see what the scouts have reported.”
“The smoke?” Zhael shook his head. “It may be crops burning. Kharst would not hesitate to burn his own people’s yields.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
Zhael lifted his eyebrows.
Quaeryt guided the mare onto the shoulder of the road and urged her into a faster pace. Even so, more than half a quint passed before he reached Skarpa at the head of the column.
“What is it?” he asked as he eased the mare beside the commander.
“Crops burning. Winter wheat corn.”