The worried-looking officer took the dispatch and began to read. His expression became more worried as he continued. Abruptly he looked up and shook his head. “By themselves, his words are merely worrisome, but knowing what we know…” He handed the dispatch to Nieron.
The black-haired commander began to read. When he finished, he said, “He’s only talking about not wanting the powers of the marshal to be usurped…”
“Are you an idiot?” asked Justanan. “He’s admitting he delayed sending tariffs, which is an act against Bhayar. He’s plotting against another officer appointed by Bhayar. Lord Bhayar is the one who decides how much power an officer under his direct authority has. Commander Quaeryt was not under the command of either the marshal or the submarshal. And as Commander Quaeryt pointed out, as you must be aware, he’s talking about an officer who has laid his life on the line in battle time after time. If there is a blunderbuss in that ruin, and I suspect there is, what other proof do you want?”
Nieron swallowed. “But why?”
“I think,” said Justanan, “Commander Quaeryt has the right of it. We know Kharst was corrupt. We know he did not hazard his imagers in battle. Every single one of Bhayar’s imagers has fought, and several have died. Does that not tell you something?”
Nieron shook his head. “Why would he turn … give up everything?”
“Perhaps they convinced him that he should be ruler and not Lord Bhayar, who is, as the submarshal did say, young to be a ruler over all of Lydar.”
“Could we hear from the captain?” asked Nieron.
“Of course.” Quaeryt stood and walked to the study door, opening it and asking the ranker stationed there-from first company, “Have Major Zhelan escort Captain Whandyn here, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt left the study door ajar and walked back to the table desk. “The captain should be here momentarily.”
When Whandyn entered the study, he looked to Quaeryt. “Sir?”
“Please sit down, Captain.” Quaeryt motioned to the remaining chair and waited until the junior officer was seated.
Whandyn was clearly ill at ease, sitting only on the front half of the chair, his eyes flicking from Quaeryt to the other commanders and back to Quaeryt.
“Captain,” began Quaeryt, “the commanders would like to hear what you heard and saw earlier today, beginning after you escorted me into the submarshal’s study. If you would tell them…”
“Yes, sir.” Whandyn moistened his lips. “I announced Commander Quaeryt and Submarshal Myskyl told me to show him in by all means. I closed the door. They must have talked for a while. Then the door opened, and the submarshal came out. Commander Quaeryt followed him. The submarshal stopped and told me to get Commander Luchan and his assistants and have them join him in the officers’ salon.”
“His assistants?” asked Nieron.
“What assistants?” inquired Justanan almost simultaneously.
“The commander was supposed to bring the Bovarian imagers. That’s all I knew, sir.” Whandyn trembled.
“You knew that was what the submarshal meant?” asked Justanan.
“Yes, sir. He’d told me they were always to be called his assistants.”
“Go on.”
“The submarshal and Commander Quaeryt went into the salon. It wasn’t long because Commander Luchan and the imagers came almost immediately. The imagers went into the little room with the peepholes into the salon…”
Quaeryt could see Nieron’s eyes widen.
“… and then Commander Luchan told me to knock on the door and tell the submarshal that he-Commander Luchan, I mean-had an urgent question for the submarshal. I did that. The submarshal hurried toward the door, and then he stopped … like he couldn’t move…”
“Pardon me, Commander,” said Nieron, turning to Quaeryt, “but there is one question I do need to ask.” He looked back to Whandyn. “At any time, did Commander Quaeryt threaten or use force against the submarshal?”
“Oh, no, sir! Not that I heard, sir … He just stood there when it all happened. The others … Erion and the imagers, they did everything. Well, and Commander Luchan. He tried to trigger the blunderbuss, but the imagers did something to stop him, I guess, because he fell down, but Commander Quaeryt couldn’t even have seen that. He was inside the salon.”
“Erion?” asked Nieron. “Erion?”
“Well … there was a figure that appeared. He looked like Erion. He said something, and then there were lightnings and flame everywhere. Then he was gone, and the Bovarian imagers were all burned up.”
“What about the submarshal?”
“Erion threw lightning or something at him.”
“Erion? How did you know it was Erion?”
“He gleamed all silver and he came down a path from the moon, and there was a huge bow across his back, and he melted an archway in the iron shutter.”
“Oh?”
“Sir … it sounds strange, but that’s what happened. It really did.”
“And Commander Quaeryt had nothing to do with this?”
“No, sir! It was Erion. Commander Quaeryt couldn’t do anything, either.”
“And Commander Quaeryt did nothing?” repeated Nieron.
“No, sir. It was like the submarshal and he were caught. I didn’t see how, but they couldn’t move.”
“I see.” Nieron looked to Justanan.
Justanan shook his head.
“Do you have any more questions of the captain?” asked Quaeryt.
“No,” said Nieron, a clear tone of discouragement in his voice. “That is sufficient.”
“Likely more than sufficient,” added Justanan.
“Captain, you may go. Please report back to Major Zhelan,” said Quaeryt quietly.
“Yes, sir.”
After the door closed behind the departing captain, Quaeryt asked, “Do you want to hear from my undercaptains?”
Nieron shook his head. He looked at Quaeryt. “How did you manage it?”
“I didn’t manage what happened in the officers’ salon,” Quaeryt replied. “I honestly have no idea how that happened. I am an imager, and I was holding full shields to protect myself, but something had clamped around me, and I couldn’t move. I thought that was something done by Myskyl’s imagers. I had a good idea that he would use them against me, and I was prepared to defend myself. I’d thought that would prove he was disloyal.” Quaeryt shrugged. “How all that happened after that … I don’t know.” Not precisely, anyway, and it’s better left like that.
“The captain’s story is very hard to believe,” stated Nieron.
“That’s most likely why he did see what he did,” said Justanan. “Do you honestly think any officer could invent that? Especially one that has never even met Commander Quaeryt before?” Justanan looked to Quaeryt. “Begging your pardon, Commander.”
“No offense taken,” replied Quaeryt. “I didn’t believe what I saw, either.”
“It may be better just to tell the other officers that the fire and explosion caused by the Bovarian imagers’ attack on Commander Quaeryt created the fire and killed Myskyl and Luchan.”
Nieron nodded slowly. “It’s so hard to believe.” Suddenly he looked at Quaeryt. “If we agree that you’re in command, what are your plans?”
“To leave one regiment here, and ride with the others back to Variana,” said Quaeryt. “One regiment here is enough. One has proved sufficient in the west, at Laaryn, and two companies are at Kephria, holding southern Bovaria at the moment.”
Justanan nodded.
“Who would you suggest…?”
“One of the subcommanders,” suggested Quaeryt. “With the death of Commander Luchan and the submarshal, you two are among the most senior officers remaining, and the marshal and Lord Bhayar may have need of you.”
“That makes sense,” said Justanan.
More than you know. But Quaeryt did not voice that as he watched Nieron.
After a moment Nieron nodded. “When would we leave?”
“As soon as possible. Within a day or so.” Quaeryt paused. “I’d suggest we plan to inspect the hold house first thing in the morning, at seventh glass. I’ve posted guards to keep men away from the building. It could be dangerous, and we don’t want anyone tempted to try to loot.”