“Would you care to explain his particular foolishness?”
“Agreeing with the late Fiancryt and his scheming wife.”
“I heard she had some ties with Kharst.”
“That’s one way of putting it. Too bad she wasn’t at Chateau Regis when Lord Bhayar’s imagers froze it solid. Then, she’s always been good at getting others to pay for her ambitions. Now … she’s likely using her wiles on the submarshal or some senior commander.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind … but that was why you told me, wasn’t it?”
“Of course.” Seliadyn smiled and took a sip from his beaker.
“Are there any bridges across the Aluse between here and Rivages?”
“Not except for the one in the middle of the city. Half of Rivages is one side, half on the other.”
“What about High Holder Paliast?”
“He’s mostly a High Holder by courtesy. He lost half his lands to Ryel. Rather, he lost them to Ryel’s wife. She wouldn’t leave the holding, but she ran it better than he ever could have. While he was spending golds in Variana, she was making them in Rivages. Paliast owed more than he or his son-I guess young Paliast is now High Holder, but he’s no stronger than his sire was…”
Quaeryt continued to take small sips of the excellent pale lager while he asked questions and listened to Seliadyn.
After another quint had passed, the older man smiled. “I’ve talked enough, and you need to get your men settled. The head ostler can show your captains where the grain for your mounts is. If you have any other questions, Wereas can answer them for you.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt rose and inclined his head. “I do appreciate your kindness and hospitality … and the excellent lager.”
“It’s to my interest … and to yours, Commander.” Seliadyn paused, then asked, “Are you as ruthless as they say?”
Although that was the first inclination that the High Holder had given that he might know Quaeryt, at least by reputation, Quaeryt couldn’t say he was surprised. “I’d like to put it another way, High Holder. Commanders don’t make the choices of whether men get killed. Those choices are made by rulers like Rex Kharst and Lord Bhayar. Once those choices are made, my only choices are how what I do affects how few of my men die. I am likely ruthless in working to keep those numbers low … and that usually means that a greater number of my opponents die. When possible, I’ve tried to obtain advantages where few die. Those occasions have been few. I hope they become more frequent in the future.”
“A very scholarly and very practical answer. I wouldn’t have expected less.” Seliadyn rose. “A good afternoon to you, Commander.”
“And to you, sir.” Quaeryt inclined his head, then eased away from the chair.
He wasn’t surprised to see Wereas waiting in the hallway outside the study.
43
By the time Quaeryt conveyed Seliadyn’s invitation to his officers and the two companies reached the barracks, all the shutters and doors had been opened, and a footman waited to show the officers through the quarters. An assistant ostler also helped with informing the squad leaders where they could find the hay and grain set asides for the companies’ mounts, while an assistant cook helped with the preparation of rations for the men and officers.
The barracks were indeed spare, but there were enough bunks with pallets for all the rankers and every officer had a small chamber on the upper level. Quaeryt’s was slightly larger and had a table desk and attached washroom and jakes. The spaces were clean, although there were some traces of dust, suggesting that they had been used sometime in the last year, or that they were cleaned and maintained regularly. Quaeryt also could see that there were three buildings on the south side of the hold, roughly matching the barracks in position, that looked to be in regular use. While not as large as the Telaryn Palace in Tilbora, Seliadyn’s hold was the largest in extent of any belonging to a High Holder that Quaeryt had ever seen … and was definitely kept in good repair.
For the size of the high holding, there was a definite feeling, at least to Quaeryt, that the staff and occupants represented but a fraction of what the holding either could contain, or once had. Yet everything was in good repair, and there was no sign of neglect anywhere. And before Quaeryt retired, when he surveyed the tower, he saw the glimmer of but a few lamps.
The mattress pallet in his quarters was comfortable enough and better than many beds in the inns in which he had stayed, but his sleep was restless, and filled with unsettling dreams he could not remember when he woke early on Meredi. He was relieved that he had not imaged in his sleep, or not enough to have left any traces in the chamber, although he thought the air seemed cooler than it should have.
He was down in the mess early, but Zhelan and Ghaelyn immediately saw him and headed his way. Both looked concerned.
“What is it?” he asked as they approached.
“One of the couriers from Northern Army escaped, sir,” reported Ghaelyn as he stopped and stiffened. “He slipped away sometime after midnight and before dawn. He rolled up a pallet to look like a sleeping man and pulled a blanket over the pallet.”
“Did he take a mount?”
“No, sir. There were guards on duty.”
“So he’s on foot, unless he steals a horse … or someone miscounted.”
“I talked to the High Holder’s ostler,” said Zhelan. “They aren’t missing any horses, and our counts match the records. Do you think he’s headed for the submarshal’s forces?”
“At High Holder Fiancryt’s?” replied Quaeryt. “It’s hard to say. On foot, it’s likely to take a good day, and he might not be well received. Then again, he might be. Or he could just be hoping to lie low and see what happens. And he still might have a mount. There’s always the possibility that the mount totals didn’t include the spare mounts of the first riders.”
“Ah … I don’t think they did,” admitted Ghaelyn.
“Lying low might be hard, sir. Most rankers don’t speak Bovarian,” Zhelan said.
“Do we know if he did? Myskyl likely would have wanted either the courier or one of his escorts to speak Bovarian, I’d think.”
“I’ll see if his escorts know,” volunteered Ghaelyn.
Quaeryt nodded for the undercaptain to leave.
“Even if he does have a mount, it will take him a good three glasses, most likely, if not more, to reach Rivages,” said Zhelan.
“Which means he could already be there, if he left at first glass this morning.” Quaeryt shook his head. “There’s no help for it. We’ll have to assume that Myskyl knows we’re here, or that he’ll know shortly. He’ll also know that we’ve read one of his dispatches and one from Deucalon. But he won’t know what Deucalon wrote. Whether that will make a difference…” He shrugged.
Quaeryt only had to wait a fraction of a quint before Ghaelyn returned.
“You were right, sir. Khend does speak Bovarian … and one of the couriers’ spare mounts is missing.”
“How soon can we move out?” Quaeryt asked Zhelan.
“A quint after the men finish eating. Say three quints. Could be sooner.”
“Then we should. Give the orders to first company. I need to brief Subcommander Calkoran.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt found Calkoran near the east end of the fenced pasture, talking over something with Major Eslym, in Pharsi, while some of the rankers of his company were gathering and saddling their mounts.
Calkoran looked up. “Yes, Commander?”
“We need to move out in the next few quints … as soon as all your men finish eating. One of the dispatch riders escaped. We’ll have to assume that he’ll be making his way to report to the submarshal. He may not be, but I’d be surprised if it were otherwise.”
“As would I.” Calkoran snorted. “You should have chained him.”