“Oh…?”
“Several of the High Holders southeast of Ruile have holdings and wealth far more than might be expected from their lands.”
Quaeryt didn’t bother to sigh. He could believe it.
“Anyway, he seems like a solid type. Most likely why we got him.”
“And because he’s junior to you,” suggested Quaeryt.
“Of course.” Skarpa lifted the mug and took a swallow.
For a short time, neither officer spoke.
“Don’t look forward to the month ahead-”
At that moment, a trooper rapped on the study door. “Subcommander Meinyt and Subcommander Khaern are here, sirs.”
“Show them in.”
Meinyt opened the door, ushered in a short and wiry subcommander with red hair shot liberally with gray, and stepped into the study, closing the door behind him before the trooper standing there could. “We got here as soon as we could.”
Both Skarpa and Quaeryt stood.
Skarpa looked to Khaern. “Subcommander, this is Subcommander Quaeryt.” After the slightest pause, he added, “I’ve told each of you about the other.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” offered Quaeryt.
“The same.” Khaern grinned warmly. “You don’t look like the deadliest officer Commander Skarpa has ever seen … but he said you wouldn’t.”
Quaeryt shrugged helplessly. “I just do what’s necessary to support the commander.”
“Sometimes that’s whether I’ve ordered him to or not.”
“Have I ever done anything that wasn’t to support you and in our interest?”
“No”-Skarpa laughed-“but at times you’ve done it before anyone realized what happened.”
Quaeryt decided to put an end to that line of bantering and gestured to the plaques table, saying cheerfully, “Your lagers are waiting for you.”
“We could use those.” Meinyt dropped into the chair across from Skarpa, who had seated himself.
Khaern eased into the one opposite Quaeryt, waiting momentarily for Quaeryt to sit.
After taking a swallow from his mug, Meinyt asked, “Have you two decided how to take Nordeau before the marshal orders another stupid attack that will cost too many troops?”
“We were getting to that,” said Skarpa.
“If he’d just have let the Bovarians withdraw to that hill and let the imagers deal with the Antiagon Fire first, we’d have lost less than a battalion, instead of a regiment. But no … he wants to attack when he wants to attack.” With a snort, Meinyt lifted his mug again.
After setting down his mug, Khaern gave the slightest of nods, but said nothing.
“How are your replacements?” asked Skarpa.
“They’re replacements. Some of them barely know one end of a sabre from the other. A few even have to hang on to the saddle if they move faster than a trot.” Meinyt took another healthy swallow of lager.
“And your new battalions?” Skarpa asked Khaern.
“I had to raise them out of Lucayl and around there. We trained them for a few weeks there, and then on the road. We joined the others at Ferravyl.”
“That explains the Eleventh Regiment,” said Quaeryt to Skarpa.
For an instant Skarpa looked as though he would swear, but he only nodded.
“What are you talking about?” asked Meinyt.
“The marshal decided that when he received eleven regiments of reinforcements, the southern army should get one.” Skarpa nodded to Khaern. “Not that I’m not very glad to have you, but another regiment in addition to yours would have been helpful.”
A puzzled expression appeared on Khaern’s face. “How many regiments are there in the northern army, then?”
“Twenty-two, from what we can figure,” replied Skarpa.
Meinyt almost choked on his lager. “That-” He stopped as he caught the look from the commander.
Skarpa said to Quaeryt calmly, “I haven’t heard about your new undercaptains.”
“They’re not bad,” Quaeryt admitted. “Two Pharsi youths who still could be students, but they’re decent imagers. Two hill types. One wanted to kill me, but decided trying wouldn’t do much for his future. The other I don’t know, but he can image a lot of iron darts.”
“Sounds like you did better than I did,” said Meinyt.
“Zhelan had the same complaint as you did about the replacements for first company,” said Quaeryt. “The Khellan officers didn’t get enough to reach full complement, but all the ones they got were Khellan Pharsi types who’d been injured and had recovered. They got replacements for about nine of every ten they’ve lost.”
“Why do you think you got better imagers?” asked Skarpa.
“A lot of the factors and High Holders don’t like imagers. Second, the four I got don’t look that good-two almost still schoolboys, a wild imager trapper, and an independent norther.”
“Still less than half a squad … well, half a squad counting you,” said Meinyt.
“Let Deucalon and the Bovarians think that,” declared Skarpa. “We need to talk about what we’re going to be doing tomorrow and on the way to Nordeau…”
Quaeryt nodded and squared himself in the chair.
53
Skarpa insisted that Fifth Battalion lead the way back through Villerive and over the bridge-and that he ride with Quaeryt. Third Regiment followed Fifth Battalion, then Eleventh, the engineers and support wagons, and finally Fifth Regiment. The column moved out from Saarcoyn’s grounds just as the sun cleared the tops of the ridge to the east. Shaelyt and the two young Pharsi undercaptains rode immediately behind Quaeryt and Skarpa, while Voltyr rode beside Horan, with the other undercaptains behind them.
“Don’t see many of the marshal’s troops up this morning,” observed Skarpa as they rode past the estate quartering senior officers under Deucalon and some of the northern regiments.
“Ours wouldn’t be moving this early, either, if we weren’t headed out,” replied Quaeryt with a smile. “It is Solayi.” That was why he’d been up later than he would have liked on Samedi night arranging his letters to be dispatched through one of Bhayar’s personal aides. They still might be read, but they would be sent.
“Speaking of that…” Skarpa drew out the words.
“Yes?”
“You know very well what I’m about to say, Subcommander and Master Chorister.”
“I fear that I do. What choice do I have?” Quaeryt paused. “But only if it does not take away from what is necessary for a proper encampment.”
“We won’t hold services if we cannot do so safely and properly,” agreed Skarpa.
As they rode past the abandoned earthworks and into Villerive proper, Quaeryt noted that few if any windows were shuttered, and that, early as it was on Solayi, people were on the streets, and taking only passing notice of the Telaryn troopers. What does that mean? That they expect we’ll come and go? Or that it matters little who rules, so long as their lives are not disrupted?
Quaeryt suspected that indifference to who ruled combined with a recognition that Bhayar had not allowed and did not intend to allow his troopers to molest the locals was the most likely reason for the near-casual acceptance of the troopers. Even with the apparent calm in Villerive, he maintained full shields, rather than triggered shields, as much to try to build up his imaging strength as because he expected a sudden attack. Those will come once we’re nearing Nordeau.
When the outriders and scouts reached the approach to the bridge over the River Aluse, Quaeryt noted that all traces of the barricades that the Bovarians had erected had vanished, as had any traces of the battle-except for the fact that the stonework and pavement were far, far cleaner than was usual in any city he’d visited.
Behind him, he could hear Shaelyt’s quiet explanation to Khalis and Lhandor as they rode through the gap in the wall he’d imaged to block the Bovarians.
“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…”