He woke more than a glass later, feeling less tired, but somewhat stiffer. Walking up and down the road helped with the stiffness, and some more of the bitter lager cleared his head, enough so that he felt considerably better when Weidyn, the squad leader, and Arion returned at roughly two quints past fourth glass.
Weidyn dismounted, handed his mount’s reins to the squad leader, and walked to join Alastar. Arion turned his mount toward the tielines for the imagers.
Weidyn’s face held a slight smile.
Better than a frown or an impassive expression. “What do you think, Captain?”
“It’s a good plan … if you can keep the squads concealed. There are some changes that might make it more effective.”
“I’ll have five imagers with me. That will be more than enough for concealment. We won’t be able to offer as much shielding as we did at High Holder Laevoryn’s. We could do that there because we covered the narrow front of the column. With your men spread and mounted … that will be harder, but their muzzle flashes and any smoke won’t be seen.”
Weidyn nodded thoughtfully. “Any shielding is better than we’d get in the regular order of battle.”
“What are your suggestions?”
“If the situation allows in the first ambush—the southern one—we should wait until the vanguard is partly past us…”
Alastar listened as Weidyn laid out his suggestions, then replied, “I’d agree with all of them, except for the last one. Not that it’s not an excellent idea tactically, but a concealment only affects the eyes, and attempting to wait that long and then move everyone would create enough noise to give the rebels a better idea of where we are. Also, once the company moves, so does the concealment, and that leaves dust and tracks visible, which point to where our forces are. Both of those will put too much strain on the imagers, and they won’t be able to hold that large a concealment and any shielding at all.”
Weidyn nodded. “I had not considered that.”
“You wouldn’t have known. For obvious reasons, especially given how few imagers there are, we tend not to let others know of our limitations.” Alastar kept his tone wry.
Weidyn smiled, if briefly.
“We need to discuss one other matter, Captain,” Alastar said quietly, moving away from the others.
Weidyn followed. “Yes, sir.”
“You know we’re greatly outnumbered.”
“Three to one, I’ve heard.”
“I don’t know if you heard, but the brown-shirts that your men fought at High Holder Laevoryn’s estate had been using special bullets to kill students and young imagers.”
“Sir?”
“If the bullet isn’t immediately removed, within a fraction of a quint, whoever is shot with one will almost certainly die in less than two quints, possibly sooner.”
“The rebels are using those kinds of bullets?”
“No, not any longer.” Alastar paused. “It may be worse than that. We have a thousand cartridges like those. I mentioned this to Marshal Wilkorn. He thought those cartridges would be most useful to whatever company supported us in this attack. The effect would be less in an all-out battle.”
For a long moment, Weidyn did not speak. “The commander mentioned special bullets. He didn’t say they were poisoned.”
“The poison’s inside the bullet. It won’t hurt your men—except they shouldn’t chew the bullets. I’ve heard that sometimes troopers have done that.”
“I’ve kept my men from doing that. The Gulf pirates sometimes did.” Weidyn paused. “More than sometimes.”
Alastar waited.
Finally, Weidyn spoke. “Might I ask what you think of the bullets, sir?”
“I don’t like the idea of using them. I wouldn’t even have considered it as a possibility until the High Holders’ brown-shirts started using them to kill students and imagers. Yet the fact that they would use them tells me that they’ll do anything to overthrow the rex, suppress the factors, and destroy the Collegium. If that happens, almost everyone in Solidar will end up living at the pleasure of one High Holder or another. Given that … and the fact that we’re outnumbered three to one, I don’t see much of a choice.” He paused, just slightly, then went on. “If the rebels were farther from L’Excelsis, we could keep fighting delaying actions. But as I see it, they have to win, and win quickly, and they’ll keep pressing if we withdraw, and a withdrawal could so easily turn into a rout.”
Weidyn nodded slowly. “Some of that I’d thought about. The rest of it makes sense. I don’t like it, either. It’s a choice between the Namer of the night, and the Namer of the day.” His laugh was sardonically bitter. “Best we go with the bullets and the Namer of the day.” After a moment, he said, “I’d prefer to tell the men that the bullets are special and extra-powerful, and to make every shot count because we only have ten cartridges of those for each man.”
“That’s true enough.” So far as it goes.
“If it’s all right with you, sir, I’ll have the squad leader who’s the company armorer get the cartridges tomorrow morning after I’ve had a chance to brief all the squad leaders.”
“That makes sense to me, and you’ve got much more experience in dealing with troopers than I do. Thank you, Captain.”
“Appreciate your plain words, sir. Thank you.”
Alastar watched as the captain turned and left. How many more distasteful decisions will there be? The way matters were going, he already knew.
Too many.
40
A chilly breeze came up on Solayi night, and by Lundi morning, mist and fog filled the air. While the higher area where the imagers were camped was clear, the lands to the west were mist-shrouded, and patches of fog and mist wreathed parts of the road to the south. The sky overhead was clear, and Alastar thought that the sun would burn off the fog by midmorning if not sooner. While the teamsters, who were doubling as cooks, prepared breakfast, Alastar went to find Wilkorn or Maurek, and instead found a trooper looking for him.
“Maitre, sir, the marshal would appreciate a few moments of your time.…”
“Lead on,” replied Alastar, deciding against mentioning he’d been looking for Wilkorn.
Both the marshal and commander were in the command tent when Alastar slipped inside, standing and looking at a large map laid out on a camp table. Both turned immediately.
“You were looking for me, Marshal?”
“We were. Maurek told you yesterday that we hadn’t heard from the first scouts we sent out. We still haven’t. The second set of scouts hasn’t reported back yet, either. I’ve posted full squads three milles to the south on all roads and lanes that might lead to us. I’d be interested in hearing what you make of that.”
Maurek nodded.
“By what I make of that, are you asking if my missing imagers might have something to do with it?”
“You have mentioned concealments, and I can’t see any other way that so many scouts would fail to report.”
“Certainly, one of the two missing imagers is capable of handling a large enough concealment to hide several squads—if they were fairly close together—but he doesn’t have the capability of being in more than one place at a time. If the rebels could figure out where your scouts were headed and there was enough time … I suppose it’s possible he could have thrown up a concealment that allowed the scouts to pass a force that would then have them surrounded and their escape blocked.”
“How would you deal with that possibility?”
“Space the scouts a quint of a mille apart, but each in sight of the one before him. If the lead scout disappears while he’s on the road, it’s likely he’s passed through a screen concealment.”
“How long could this imager hold such a concealment?”
“That depends on how large it is. One across the river road and on the shoulder covering a squad of troopers … easily a glass, probably longer. Large shields, on the other hand, wear out even the strongest imagers quickly.” Alastar only paused f
or a moment before asking, “But couldn’t the rebels do the same thing by using a wooded area close to the river road and waiting for the scouts to pass?”
“They could,” admitted Maurek, “but it seems unlikely that none would escape.”
“The rebels have a much larger force.”
“Either way,” said Wilkorn, “it’s disturbing.”
“So we still don’t know where the rebels are?”
“We know that they’re not yet within five milles of Caluse,” replied Maurek. “Otherwise…”
“That’s almost a day away, then,” observed Alastar.
“It might be two,” said Wilkorn, “or they might be wanting to create that impression while they send part of their forces westward.”
“And bring them through that gap between Lake Shaelyt and the smaller lake just to the northwest of us?”
“We have scouts posted there, just in case,” replied Maurek.
“Can your imagers sense when there is another imager hiding behind a concealment?” asked Wilkorn.
“That is a very rare talent. At present, we have one very young imager who appears to have that ability, but she is young and can only detect concealments that are within a few yards. That wouldn’t be helpful here.”
“I was hoping…” admitted the marshal.
“Is there anything else I should know?” asked Alastar.
“You know what we know.” Wilkorn offered a crooked smile. “Little as it is. We’ll let you know more as soon as we do.”
When Alastar returned to the imagers’ area, he immediately gathered them all together. “There are two things you all need to know. The first is that we will be supplying Fifth Company with some special cartridges. Fifth Company is the same company that we assisted in dealing with the late High Holder Laevoryn, and we will be supporting the company in dealing with the rebels. For those of you who haven’t heard, Captain Weidyn is very experienced. His troopers only know that the cartridges are more powerful. That is true, and that is all anyone needs to know. Is that clear?” Alastar paused and surveyed the imagers one by one before continuing.
“For your information, they were imaged by Maitres Cyran and Alyna. The second matter is that the rebels are at least fifteen milles away. We don’t know more than that because a number of the scouts the marshal dispatched yesterday have not yet returned, and it’s possible that they were ambushed. That means you all should remain fairly close to our muster area because it is possible that some of the rebel forces might be nearby.” Alastar paused. “Are there any questions?”
“How many of their troopers are mounted, and how many are infantry?” asked Tiranya.
“We don’t know precisely yet. Of those who deserted from army headquarters, less than a third are mounted infantry. The first reports from scouts last week indicated that only about a quarter of the forces supplied by the High Holders appear to be mounted. That may have increased since then.”
“Do we know if Bettaur or Ashkyr are with the rebels?” asked Taurek.
“We don’t have any information either way. It might be best to assume that they are, or at least keep the possibility in the back of your minds.”
“Besides the early operations with Fifth Company, sir,” asked Dylert, “what exactly will we be doing?”
Alastar suspected that question had come as much from Thelia as from Dylert, although he honestly didn’t know just how much the junior maitre had discussed matters with Thelia. “What we’re expected to provide is opportunistic support and attack. As we’ve already discovered, there’s a limit to how many heavy rifle bullets most imager shields can take. Leading a charge might sound glamorous, but you can’t lead without being somewhat visible to those you’re leading, and a force large enough to be effective is going to leave traces and be heard, even under concealment. After the first few uses of concealments, bullets will be flying everywhere. So we’ll be doing things like moving close enough under shields and concealments to fire their cannon shells and ammunition. Or perhaps torch their provisions, or any number of other operations that will create losses to them while incurring as few as possible, hopefully none, to the imagers involved. Remember … there are only twelve of you, and likely close to five thousand troopers on both sides. If any of you have other ideas along those lines, I’m open to suggestions.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now … get something to eat.”
As Weidyn had promised, immediately after breakfast a squad leader from Fifth Company appeared with a handcart—and the captain was with him. Both carried heavy rifles.
Alastar walked them to the first supply wagon where Cyran was waiting with ten wooden boxes set out on the tailboard.
“There they are,” said Alastar.
“Do you mind if…” The squad leader looked to Alastar.
“You’d like to look at the bullets, to make sure that they won’t foul your barrels?” asked Alastar gently.
“Yes, sir.”
Alastar nodded to Cyran, who took one of the wooden boxes and handed it to the armorer.
“Awfully nice for a cartridge box,” observed Weidyn, glancing at the other nine boxes. “Men will be wanting them when they’re empty.”
The armorer slid the top open just enough to remove several of the cartridges. Then he lifted his rifle, swiveled the breech, and inserted the cartridge. He inspected the fit carefully, then swiveled the breech down, checking the closure, before he looked to Alastar.
“We’ve fired at least a score of rounds from heavy rifles. You can fire how many you want, but each one you fire is one less with which to kill rebels. Each one was specially made, and there aren’t any replacements.” Alastar smiled pleasantly. “When you fire, just make sure the bullet won’t ricochet and hit someone.”
“I’d like to walk over to the river and see if I can find some wet sand or mud to fire into.”
“Go ahead,” replied Alastar, “but if you want to look at the bullet afterward, put on some gloves. Then wash them when you’re done. The residual from the charge could burn your fingers even when the bullet’s cold.” That was as much as Alastar was going to say, and it was true in a way.
“That charge won’t foul a barrel, will it?”
“No,” replied Cyran. “We actually fired close to two score cartridges from one rifle.”
“Maitre Cyran works with forging and metals, turning benches and tolerances,” added Alastar.
“Go ahead,” said Weidyn. “We’ll wait here.” Once the armorer was out of earshot, he added, “He’s very conscientious. He’d feel better firing an entire box. I told him that wasn’t possible.”
“Oh … it’s possible,” replied Alastar dryly, “but the cost of his certainty would likely be the greater possibility of deaths among his men and comrades.”
“Rushing weapons can be dangerous,” pointed out Weidyn. “It can cost lives.”
“You’re right. It usually does. But if we wait until we’re absolutely certain the cartridges won’t create problems, the revolt will be long over … one way or the other. The question is whether the new weapon saves more lives of our troopers than it costs. We think the special cartridges will … and since we’re hazarding our imagers to help in the matter, it’s not as though we’re not sharing that risk.”
“I did point that out to the armorer.”
“But you’re letting him come to the right decision his way,” said Alastar with a smile.
“Most times, it works better when you let them know the entire problem, or as much as you can.”
Alastar thought he heard three shots, but he wasn’t certain.
More than half a quint passed before the armorer rejoined the three. He looked to Weidyn. “Sir, they don’t seem to foul the barrel. The bullets crack when they hit, but they don’t fragment. They don’t scar the barrel, and they seem more accurate than the ones we’re using.”
Alastar noted the smallest of nods from Cyran.
“Then they’ll do?” asked W
eidyn.
“As far as I can tell, sir.”
“Then load them up. We’ll wait to issue them until just before the evolution. We might be ordered to some other duty first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
Once the armorer was on his way with the ammunition boxes loaded on the hand cart, Weidyn turned back to the imagers. “That’s as good a statement as you’ll ever get from Aloisyn. The better accuracy may help as much as your other touches.” He paused. “Usually, something that’s individually made…”
“Each cartridge and each bullet was imaged to a precise template,” said Cyran. “If you take care, the results can be very precise.”
“So it seems.” Weidyn inclined his head. “You will inform me when we know more about the coming evolution?”
“As soon as we know,” promised Alastar.
The two imagers watched as Weidyn strode northward toward his company.
Alastar cleared his throat. “You and Alyna really worked on finish and balance, didn’t you?”
“That was her doing. I experimented a bit with the composition. Arthos had a few ideas, also.”
At that moment, a junior squad leader hurried up, inclining his head to Alastar. “Sir, the marshal and the commander thought you should hear the latest scouting report.”
“We’ll talk more later,” Alastar said to Cyran before turning back to the trooper. “Lead the way.”
As Alastar neared the command tent, he saw two rankers waiting outside with a squad leader and decided that the three, or at least the rankers, were scouts. When he entered, Wilkorn and Maurek were seated on canvas camp stools, side by side looking at the same map they had been studying before. Both rose.
“Have the scouts come in,” ordered the marshal.
The two rankers Alastar had seen outside the command tent entered, stiffening to attention in front of the camp table. “Sir.”
“You two were the only ones to return from a scouting mission. Is that correct?” asked Maurek.
“Yes, sir.”
“How did that happen?”
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