Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The taller man looked at the shorter.

  The shorter scout cleared his throat nervously. “We were with second squad, third scout company. We rode though Caluse before dawn this morning. We didn’t see anyone. Saw smoke from chimneys, like folks were fixing breakfast. Some teamsters at the brewery were rolling barrels up a ramp onto an old dray. South of town, the captain sent each squad a different way. He and first squad went south on the river road. We went with first squad for more than a mille, might have been another half mille past the millestone. That was where the captain told the squad leader—that’s Plessat—for us to scout the side road that headed off. That’s what Plessat said, anyway. Once we were away from the main road, Plessat detailed me and Borkel here, to fall back two quints. Told us that if anything strange happened, anything happened to the rest of the squad, we were to hightail it back to camp and report. Maybe a mille out, we came to another road, a good wide road. Not paved, but graveled some. Plessat took the squad south on the side road. Looked like anyplace else we’ve been seeing. Fields, cots, woodlots. Musta been another two milles on…” The scout looked to Borkel.

  “A quint more’n two milles, seemed to me.”

  “That was when it happened, right after they road past this orchard, apples, I think. I was looking right at the others. Like I blinked, most of the squad was gone, excepting Fedor and Daffyr. They were maybe twenty yards back of the others. Then, suddenlike they were gone, too. Like they weren’t there at all.”

  Wilkorn and Maurek looked to Alastar.

  “What happened then? Did you hear anything?”

  “Next thing we know, Fedor appears, except he’s riding toward us, low on his mount. Then there were lots of shots, and he and his mount go down. Leastwise, I swear on the Nameless that’s what we saw. Except we’re looking, and he disappears, like he’d never been there.”

  Borkel nodded.

  “Anything else? Horses? Voices?”

  “We were more than half a mille away, sir.”

  “Where did the shots come from?” asked Alastar.

  “They must have come from the orchard. Leastwise, I couldn’t see anyone anywhere else. Don’t see how the squad disappeared, though.” The scout shook his head. “Just gone, and then Fedor shows up, and then he’s gone. Enough to make a man question his eyes. Maybe all his senses, too.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Like we were ordered. We turned our mounts and rode like the Namer was after us. When you see a whole squad disappear…” The shorter scout shook his head, then looked to Borkel. “Best you finish.”

  “Well, sirs,” said the taller scout, “we went back to the main road, but we didn’t see the rest of the company. I mean, we saw the traces showing them heading south on the river road. Weren’t no traces coming back, and we had orders. So we rode back here. We didn’t see no sign of any other troopers, theirs or ours, till we got back to our picket lines.”

  “You didn’t see traces or tracks of other horses on that side road?” asked Alastar.

  “No, sir.”

  “Could you tell how many shots were fired at Fedor?”

  “Sounded like two squads, maybe, but all at once. Then there weren’t any more.”

  “Did anyone fire at you?”

  “Not so as we could tell, sir.”

  Alastar and the two senior army officers continued the questions for almost another quint, but neither scout could add much to their initial report.

  Finally, Wilkorn said, “I think we’ve covered this in enough detail. All I’d like to add is my appreciation for your carrying out your orders. If you two hadn’t done so, you would have been shot or captured, and we still wouldn’t know what had happened.”

  Once the scouts had left the tent, the marshal asked Alastar, “What do you make of all that?”

  “I think we can assume that at least one of our missing imagers has thrown in with the rebels.”

  “How did they manage that?” asked Maurek.

  “The imager used a screen concealment across the road. The rebel troopers were in the orchard, most likely at the very edge. Once the squad passed, the concealment was shifted so that both your troopers and theirs were concealed. One scout tried to escape, and was shot. Since the two who escaped didn’t hear shots until then, I’d assume that the scout squad was greatly outnumbered, with at least a full company aiming rifles at them, and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. That’s just a guess, of course.”

  “I can see that,” replied the commander. “I don’t like it. They just surrendered?”

  “You think they should have chosen to get killed for nothing when the fight is between the rex and a bunch of High Holders?” asked Wilkorn sardonically. “When they’re in an impossible position?”

  Alastar found his thoughts were similar to those of the marshal.

  “I still don’t like it,” declared Maurek.

  “We’ll just use it,” said the marshal. “Spread the word to all the troopers that the rebels are shooting scouts, and that so far out of all the scouts only two have returned. Get the point across that while those men once may have been comrades, they’ll now kill their former comrades without even blinking.”

  Has it come to that? How could it not, given the anger of the High Holders?

  “We still need to decide how to deal with them,” pointed out Maurek.

  “Does the road where the scouts were ambushed lead to that hamlet south of where we planned the first ambush?” asked Alastar.

  “That’s what we were looking at when you came in,” replied Wilkorn.

  “I was just wondering…”

  “That was our thought as well,” said Maurek.

  “What if we tried the same thing on them … but south of the hamlet?” asked Alastar.

  “Were you thinking of some of your imagers with Fifth Company?” Maurek frowned. “Even with imagers, and the lane as narrow as it is, that could be a real problem with just one company if they sent a battalion that way. Aestyn’s cautious that way, and so is Marryt.”

  “Two companies at least,” said Wilkorn

  “Major Luerryn, too,” added Maurek. “That’s for the troopers. Luerryn will listen to you. You impressed him, Maitre.”

  “Let’s look over the map and the earlier scouting reports,” said Wilkorn. “We need to give this some thought.

  Alastar had the feeling he was in for at least a glass of deliberation and planning.

  41

  Early Mardi morning found Alastar saddling the gelding. He’d already imaged both water bottles full of the barely passible dark lager that was the best he could manage when Cyran appeared.

  “I don’t want to seem insubordinate, Maitre, but might it be more prudent if I took second group with Major Luerryn’s forces?”

  Alastar suppressed the wry smile he felt. He knew from where that question had come, but he didn’t ask Cyran. “It’s a good thought, but I think I’ll need your support a great deal more a little later.” At Cyran’s expression, he added, “I appreciate your concern, but, as I’m sure Alyna may have indicated, I don’t always recover from heavy imaging as quickly as I did a few years ago. That means the more time I have between imaging, the more effective I’ll be … and the more all of us can do together. So it’s likely that I’ll be asking you and second group to handle whatever the next task is. If you go first, on the other hand…”

  Cyran nodded, and a brief smile followed. “I just wanted you to know.”

  “I understand, and I’m very grateful.” And Alyna will be also … if matters work out anywhere close to what we’ve planned … which they likely won’t. “Make certain second group rests, but keep them close together so that if you have to mount up it won’t take long.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cyran still wore a concerned expression when Alastar mounted and formed up his group.

  Alastar, Akoryt, and the imager of first group left the encampment at sixth glass, directly behind Weidyn and his first squad,
with Major Luerryn and Alastar riding side by side at the head of first group, followed by the remainder of Fifth Company and then Eighth Company. Slight wisps of mist swirled around the edges of the River Aluse, and the air was cooler than it had been in days, but then, less than two weeks remained before the end of harvest and the beginning of fall.

  “How far in front of the main force do you think the rebels’ advance companies are?” asked Alastar once the formation was headed west on the narrow road leading to the lane with the rebuilt bridge.

  “Anywhere south of Caluse,” replied Luerryn. “They could be even farther north if they’re taking the side roads. I wouldn’t anticipate the main forces on the side roads. They’re too soft for all the cannon and the supply wagons.”

  “What’s the largest force you’d put on the side roads?”

  “In one formation? Two companies.”

  “That’s why we’ve got two?”

  “The commander and I do tend to think alike.”

  “What about Commander Aestyn? Or Hehnsyn or Marryt?”

  “From all I’ve heard and seen, Hehnsyn’s very traditional. I don’t know anything about Marryt. Aestyn … he got the command dealing with the pirates in the Sud Swamp because he’s more adventurous. He’d put cannon on flatboats and bombard pirate camps from the middle of a bog where the pirates couldn’t even get to the boats.”

  Although Alastar nodded, what Luerryn said about the rebel commander bothered him more than a little. “I assume the marshal knows that?”

  “That’s why he picked the spot he did. No swamps, no bogs, no backwaters, no terrain any higher anywhere close.”

  But Aestyn likely knows that, mused Alastar.

  Once they had turned off the west-heading road and onto the dirt lane, Alastar studied the sides of the lane, checking the clingweed to see if it showed more traces of horses, but he couldn’t see much of any change since the last time he had ridden there. Nor was there any sign of riders as they passed through the berry-bush fields, while the first flooded field showed a slightly lower water level than before and more exposed mud.

  Weidyn ordered scouts out to go through the ill-tended woodlot, but they discovered nothing. Nor were there any signs of large numbers of riders on the part of the lane leading to the second flooded field between the lane and the river road. The only recent tracks were those of four or five mounts, most likely those of Weidyn, a few troopers, and Arion.

  So far … so good.

  As Weidyn’s squad rode up the low rise to the crest from which Alastar had observed the hamlet situated several milles north of Caluse, Alastar could feel his guts tightening and he checked his shields once more, wondering if they’d be met be a hail of rifle fire, but nothing of the sort occurred, and Luerryn called a halt, which Alastar would have suggested if Luerryn had not already ordered it.

  “A bit more than two milles to that hamlet,” observed Luerryn. “The road widens at the bottom of here. Unless my eyes fail me, there’s a narrow hedgerow just this side of the hamlet and that rubs west and then turns more to the south. The hedgerow keeps going south, but there’s another road going west off of it.”

  “My eyes must have failed me,” Alastar replied wryly. “I didn’t see the hedgerow at all. I can see it now.”

  “It’s easier in morning light. The long shadows help.”

  Alastar wasn’t so sure that he would have picked out the hedgerow without Luerryn’s assistance, especially given that trees and bushes lining the lane were uneven, and even had gaps in places, but couldn’t help but wonder what else he might have missed. He didn’t think his eyes were that much worse than they had once been. But how would you know?

  He glanced toward the bottom of the rise to the south, where the lane widened, and then beyond. It was definitely possible that the second lane Luerryn had pointed out might afford another route for the rebels, possibly even connecting to the side road described by the two returning scouts. “Could they make better time by sending the mounted units on the side lanes?”

  “Probably not, but they could pick up a lot more forage, and it would make it easier for them to try an encircling maneuver. I don’t see any dust, but there won’t be much, except on the river road, not with the ground as damp as it’s been.”

  Alastar looked downhill and watched as the two scouts rode along the road south from the rise and toward the point where the hedgerow joined the south road. They reined up, and one took out a blue banner on a short pole and waved it.

  “Looks like it’s clear so far. Thought it should be, but you never know,” said Luerryn. “Column! Forward!”

  As Alastar rode beside the major, he looked ahead to the hedgerow that bordered the lane heading west from the narrow road on which they rode. It wasn’t that tall as hedgerows went, a little less than three yards and appeared to be somewhat shorter farther west, but he wondered why that was the only hedgerow in the area. “I don’t like riding past a side road that we haven’t scouted.”

  “There wasn’t any sign of riders or wagons on the road around the hamlet,” Luerryn pointed out. “Just one full mounted company would stretch several hundred yards along these lanes and roads. Could an imager hide that many riders?”

  “Most competent imagers could conceal a squad. A very good imager could conceal a company. More than that would be hard for any length of time.”

  More than a quint went by while they rode past small cots, an apple orchard, and what Alastar thought might have been a stand of pear trees, before they neared the hedgerow.

  Alastar looked to his left, in the direction of the river. A low berm with a level top almost the width of the road bordered by the hedgerow ran the two milles or so toward the river, joining a raised flat field or space just short of the trees immediately to the west of the river road.

  Once Luerryn and Alastar reached the half crossroads, the major signaled a halt and turned to the Maitre. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like to take a look down the side road.”

  “Then we should send a scout in front of you.”

  Alastar frowned. “That might be dangerous for the scout.”

  “It undoubtedly will be. The marshal has far more scouts than imagers.”

  Alastar managed not to wince at the major’s pragmatism. “And scouts are more expendable than entire companies.”

  “That, too. I’ll send a squad with you. The squad leader will be Helmnyn. How many imagers will you take?”

  A polite way of saying that you’re not going alone. Alastar kept his smile to himself. “Two. Arion! Seliora!”

  Luerryn gestured and a trooper rode forward.

  In less than half a quint, the small formation turned onto the hedgerow road. The scout was already a good hundred yards ahead. Then came the three imagers—all abreast—with the mounted squad close behind, led by squad leader Helmnyn.

  The sound of the gelding’s hoofs on the road changed, and Alastar looked down. The lane was stone-paved, although a thin layer of dirt covered the stone, and some of the pavers were missing and others were cracked, suggesting that the road was indeed old. He looked up and glanced back toward the river, but the imagers riding behind him blocked his view.

  “Sir?” asked Arion.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking.” Alastar suspected that the old road had once run along the berm right to the river, and that the flat area had held buildings, perhaps a place where cargoes could have been loaded or unloaded off riverboats. But who had built it? When? And where had it led? There were certainly no cities, and no sizable towns to the south and southwest.

  Alastar smiled, shook his head, and returned his concentration to the road ahead.

  As the imagers and as Helmnyn’s squad continued westward, Alastar kept his eyes moving, noticing that the section of hedgerow through which the scout was passing was more even, seemingly all the same, and didn’t have the breaks he had observed from the rise in the road. The scout rode deliberately, almost stiffly, still a hu
ndred yards ahead. Alastar couldn’t blame the man for feeling like he was a target. He well might be.

  For a moment, the scout appeared to disappear, then reappear.

  “Company! Halt!” Alastar ordered, projecting his voice. “Recall the scout!” In a much lower voice, he added, “Helmnyn, pass the word quietly. Ready arms.”

  Alastar continued to watch as the scout turned his mount, but there was no flicker or change in the trooper’s appearance. Did you imagine it? He didn’t think so. Then, abruptly, he realized something else. The hedgerow where the scout had been is far too regular. “Arion … just west of where the scout turned, image a cloud of red pepper across the lane and on both sides of the hedgerow. Into the hedgerow a bit.”

  “Into it, sir?”

  “I have my doubts that it’s as solid as it looks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  An almost impenetrable red fog filled the road a hundred yards ahead. For several moments, nothing happened. Then the fog seemed to move, and congeal over figures. Part of the hedgerow vanished, leaving gaps on both sides of the narrow road. In those gaps Alastar could see ranks of mounted troopers carrying rifles and wearing crimson and black armbands. Despite the momentary chaos caused by the cloud of red pepper, all too many of those rifles were pointed in the direction of the imagers and the single squad that accompanied them.

  In moments, several rebel troopers began to fire at the imagers.

  “Seliora! A screen concealment in front of us.”

  Abruptly, the rebel force vanished as well, but the scout remained in sight less than thirty yards away, now spurring his mount toward the imagers.

  “More red pepper, and hot iron needles to the gaps on each side of the road!” Alastar turned in the saddle. “Squad leader! Have your men fire mounted-rider-high into those gaps in the hedgerow. Rapid fire!”

  “Yes, sir.” Squad Leader Helmnyn raised his voice. “On my command! Rider high. Into the gaps! Fire!”

  Alastar rocked in the saddle as several bullets ripped into his shields, then imaged hundreds of wooden darts into the gaps in the hedgerow, followed by hundreds more, knowing that using wood would take far less effort than iron, even as he heard the thunder of hoofs pounding toward his small force, and as the fleeing scout rode past Seliora.