“Heavy rains four days ago, the canalman said, but the berm side of the canal didn’t give way until yesterday.”
“I can be with you in a quint or so.”
“You don’t need to hurry that much, sir. It’ll take longer than that before everyone’s ready to mount up.”
Quaeryt had another thought, one he should have had first. “I’ll need to meet with the submarshal before we head out.”
“I thought you might, sir. He said he’d be here in a few moments.”
Quaeryt didn’t have to wait long for the submarshal. Skarpa arrived within moments of the time that Zhelan had left to inform the undercaptains and engineers.
“You know I’d hoped we could reach Eluthyn by last night,” began Skarpa.
“I know, but it was better to stop than settling nine regiments on the town in darkness.”
Skarpa cleared his throat. “With all the delay … it might be best to march ahead today to Eluthyn. It’s only seven miles. That way we’d have more time to arrange for supplies and quarters. It would also give the mounts and men at least a day’s rest…”
Quaeryt grinned. “You scarcely need my approval for that. Except you’re suggesting that Eleventh and Nineteenth Regiments accompany Southern Army as well.”
“It would rest them more as well.”
“By all means. First company and Vaelora and I will have to stay with the boats, though, and I’ll need the imager undercaptains and the engineers to deal with the breach in the canal.”
“I’m not comfortable with just one company. I’d thought to have two companies from my forces remain here as well.”
Almost half a glass passed before Quaeryt, the imagers, first company, and Captain Neusyn from the Nineteenth Regiment engineers rode west, leaving the regiments, the canal boats-and Vaelora-temporarily behind.
It was well past eighth glass when Quaeryt and Neusyn reined up and dismounted on the towpath on the north side of the empty canal, a good five hundred yards east of the leaking emergency water gates, and several hundred yards from the nearest canal post building.
Quaeryt looked at the south side of the canal, the so-called berm side, where the stone walls were backed by the spoil dug from the canal itself. The stone blocks had collapsed into a rough heap. He turned to Captain Neusyn. “Didn’t something besides rain have to cause this?”
“Almost looks like someone blasted the underburden away, so that the water leached out and eroded the support under the lowest course of stones until they collapsed.” Neusyn frowned. “But that … I need to look at it more closely.”
Quaeryt looked skeptically at the muddy bottom of the canal.
“Better to cross through the mud,” said Neusyn. “I wouldn’t want to walk across that emergency gate.” He gestured vaguely with the iron-tipped staff he carried. “It’s barely holding, and if it goes, the water will widen the breach and drain more of the canal.”
Quaeryt could see that, but he didn’t like it. He and the engineer had to walk almost a hundred yards farther west until they reached a set of stone steps that allowed a short jump down to the mud of the canal bottom. Quaeryt’s boots sank into the mud not quite to midcalf, and dark globs of mud sprayed up onto his trousers. He wasn’t terribly happy as he made his way through the mud after the engineer, trying not to spray more of the smelly mud on himself.
Once Neusyn reached the far side of the canal, he stopped short of the hole in the bottom of the canal that extended to the south and all the way through where the stone walls and the stone and earth berm beyond had been. There, only a long pile of cut stones lay toppled and half buried in muck and mud. After studying the toppled stones for several moments, the engineer captain walked around the stones, prodding them and the area around them with the iron-tipped staff. He shook his head as the staff revealed a length of bone, then another.
“The stories were true, it would seem,” said Quaeryt. “That looks like a human bone.”
“There are others over there at the other side of the gap … just short of where the wall is sagging,” said Neusyn.
Quaeryt looked in the direction the staff pointed. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought there were enough bones there to account for several bodies.
“The clay preserved them for a time,” added the engineer. “But bad engineering tells in the end.”
“What was so bad about it?” asked Quaeryt.
“Do you see these white chalky flakes and grains?”
The white fragments that Neusyn pointed out obviously meant something, but what that might be Quaeryt had no idea. So he just nodded.
“They’re gypsum.”
That didn’t explain any more to Quaeryt. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It dissolves when there’s a lot of water around it. When they built the canal, after they laid the stone walls and mortared the stones in place, they sealed the bottom of the canal itself with clay. That’s usually enough to keep seepage to a minimum, but if anything happens…”
“The rain couldn’t have done that in a few days, then?”
“No. It’s been sinking for years. You can see the way the canal walls have sunk. Might have been the runoff from the berm funneled down there, or maybe even rodent holes…”
Quaeryt looked at the stone courses. From what he could see, the stones had sagged in various ways for more than fifty yards on each side of the gap in the wall and berm.
“… wouldn’t be that obvious with water in the canal, but now…”
“So … what will it take to put it right?” asked Quaeryt.
“The footings under the stone courses need to be replaced, with solid stone, if we can find any. The part of the canal bottom that’s been eroded needs to be replaced with solid fill, with at least half a yard of good clay on the top, and then the stones reset and mortared. A good half yard of clay on the outside of the south wall, and the same on the bottom of the canal where it’s been washed away. Stone rip-rap or backing on the outside before the berm is replaced…”
“All right. Let’s go back. You explain that carefully to the imagers, and we’ll get to work.”
“Can they…?”
“That’s what they’re here for. This can’t be any harder than what they’ve done before, and they’ll be doing it without having an enemy attack them while they’re working.”
As the two waded through the mud to the north side of the canal and then climbed up to the towpath, Quaeryt couldn’t help but think about the bodies buried under the walls. But you’ve killed far more men than this canal did … and for what? He didn’t have an answer to his own question … only a hope that the deaths might lead to a more peaceful and united Lydar. Does that hope justify what you’ve done?
Quaeryt pushed those questions into the back of his mind and gathered the undercaptains, listening as the engineer had explained what was necessary.
Then Quaeryt turned to the imagers. “Horan … image those stones in the breach, the pile of muddy ones in that hole in the bottom of the canal, onto the berm. That’s the flat raised part beyond the wall. Put the stones, say, fifty yards west of the westernmost part of the breach.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once those stones had been moved, Quaeryt turned to Desyrk. “If you would begin to image away the muck in the breach, in small amounts so that no load tires you too much.”
Desyrk nodded, then began to concentrate. Bit by bit, the muck began to vanish. After less than a quint, the first riders of the Southern Army began to ride past, along the towpath and the ground to the north of the canal.
After a quint Quaeryt said, “You stop for now. Smaethyl, you take over with the muck.”
As he could, Quaeryt alternated between imagers, but it was past the first glass of the afternoon before they finished cleaning out the breach. By then Skarpa’s forces and Quaeryt’s two regiments had all passed and were, Quaeryt hoped, settling into Eluthyn.
When he was satisfied with the cleanup and removal, Quaeryt
summoned the engineer.
Neusyn looked at the gaping gash where, two glasses before, there had been a breach, uneven courses of stone, toppled stones and muck. “That would have taken at least several days with all my men.”
“Imagers do offer some advantages.” Quaeryt glanced over at the undercaptains, all of them sweating somewhat despite the cool breeze out of the northwest, then at the gash. After several moments, he turned to the engineer. “You need a stone footing, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It should run from one end to the other, but how high should the stone be?”
“About a digit below the bottom of the lowest course of the stonework on each side.”
Quaeryt studied the gash, and the hundred or so yards between the undamaged canal walls, thinking. Then, he reached out into the lands to the south of the canal, lands he hoped had been warmed by the weak autumn sun during the morning. Carefully, he visualized a smooth stone footing, filling the lower trench, and stretching from one wall to the other.
A flash of light and a wave of chill swept over the group, and a slight feeling of dizziness struck Quaeryt … and passed. He looked across the empty canal at the smooth expanse of gray stone, then at the sparkling ice and frost stretching southward across the stubbled fields beyond the canal for close to half a mille. After taking a deep breath, he said to Neusyn, “That will have to warm up, I think, before the others begin to image the walls back in place.”
The captain swallowed. “As you say, Commander.”
Quaeryt looked to the undercaptains. “We all need a break, and some rations, before we go back to work on the walls.”
In the later part of the afternoon, after a break of nearly a glass, Quaeryt directed the undercaptains in their imaging to replace the stonework, then the clay, and finally the berm. They did not finish until well after fourth glass. While they made ready to return to the regiments, Quaeryt and Neusyn walked the several hundred yards to the small canal house. The weathered canalman was standing outside, waiting.
“The repairs are finished,” Quaeryt said.
“Sir … never seen anything like that,” said the weathered canalman, looking westward at the stonework, then back at the commander.
“It’s not something imagers usually do,” replied Quaeryt, “but Lord Bhayar needs the Great Canal in working order. I don’t think you should open the locks and emergency water gates for another glass or so.” Quaeryt was being cautious, but he couldn’t help but worry that some of the material might be chill and should warm before coming in contact with water.
“Whatever you say, sir.”
Quaeryt nodded, then headed over to where the mare and the undercaptains were mounting up.
On the ride back to the canal boats and first company, Quaeryt took some time imaging the dried mud off his trousers, but being careful not to image away any of the fabric. When he finished, he realized that he was tired, but only physically so, and that he was having no trouble with his shields. That was good, especially after imaging a massive section of stone into place.
“Well?” said Vaelora when Quaeryt returned. She wrinkled her nose. “What…?”
“Canal mud. It’s not exactly perfume. I imaged away the worst of it.”
“How bad was it?”
“One of Kharst’s engineers cut corners…” He went on to explain what had happened and what he and the other imagers had been forced to do, then finished, “It will likely be tomorrow afternoon before the springs refill this section of the canal, and we’ll have to wait until at least some of the cargo boats-”
“Why do we have to wait?”
“Because they’re all jammed up at the locks in Eluthyn. We couldn’t get through until they’ve moved.” Before Vaelora could say more, he went on. “Since we’re going to be here for another day, we might as well visit Eluthyn tomorrow. The locals should be getting used to a Telaryn force of some size by now. There might even be an inn with decent fare.” He paused. “I do think that the accommodations here are likely to be better than in the town.”
“In that, dearest, I would agree, but it would be nice to see more than water and canal walls and fields and small towns.”
“We can manage that.”
Vaelora smiled.
10
Quaeryt woke up with a start, lying on his back. He could not move, except to breathe, and his breath was a thin white cloud above him that crystallized into fine needles of ice that stabbed at the flesh of his face as they solidified and fell. The chill seeped over him like ice water, but without any sense of wetness as it bit into his exposed flesh.
Standing in the ice mist facing him were white figures, assemblages of bones, angular skeletons. The sightless eyeholes of the skulls looked at him, accusingly. As he lay there, Quaeryt became aware that standing on each side of where he lay were men in the blue-gray uniforms of Bovaria. Each Bovarian trooper was coated in ice, and each stared down at him, as if to demand a reason why he stood there, frozen and immobile.
“No…” Quaeryt could barely choke out the words. “No…”
Then … the skeletons and the ice-covered troopers faded away, and Quaeryt lay in the icy sheets of the wide bed in the canal boat’s sleeping chamber, with Vaelora’s arms and warmth around him.
“Dearest … dearest…”
“I’m here,” mumbled Quaeryt.
“The windows … They’re coated with ice.” Vaelora wrapped her arms even more tightly around Quaeryt. “Another terrible dream, dearest?”
“I was frozen in ice … again. This time … there were skeletons, bones of ice, and they were all looking at me.”
“Bones, skeletons?”
“Yesterday, when we repaired the canal, we discovered bones, bones of the workers who died building it and who were buried under the walls and the bottom of the canal.”
“You didn’t say anything about that last night.”
“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to think about it.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with them.”
“No … but I couldn’t help thinking about how they died for a purpose. Have the thousands I’ve killed, more than those Kharst and his sire killed in building the canal, died for any real purpose?”
“You can’t think that way, dearest. You can’t.”
“I keep telling myself that. I keep saying I’ve had to do what I’ve done, but sometimes I’m not very good at persuading my dreams to consider things that way.” Quaeryt shivered.
“Thousands would have died if you hadn’t done what you did. In the end, it might have gone the other way, and thousands more in Telaryn might have died. Bhayar is far more merciful than Kharst ever was. Neither he nor Father nor Grandsire killed thousands to build canals. They didn’t employ assassins to kill uncooperative High Holders.”
Quaeryt sat up slowly, looking around the sleeping cabin. The frost that had coated the inside of the shutters and the paneled walls was beginning to melt, but the air was still far cooler than it should have been, even in late fall. “Are you all right?”
“Me? I’m fine.” She paused. “Are you?”
“I will be … thanks to you.” He turned and put his arms around her.
Somewhat later, after Quaeryt had stopped shivering and both were dressed, they sat across from each other at the narrow table in the salon, sipping tea and finishing the remnants of egg toast drizzled with an apple-berry syrup.
“I wonder how Skarpa is doing in finding supplies in Eluthyn,” mused Quaeryt.
“He won’t be having that much difficulty. It would be rather hard for factors to deny someone with nine regiments.” She paused. “Didn’t you get a message while I was dressing?”
“I did. It just said that he had established quarters in the north of Eluthyn and that the town was calm. The factors wouldn’t cause problems, but purchasing their supplies could be hard on the town if there aren’t High Holders with supplies. I should have mentioned that. Then…”
&
nbsp; “Then what?”
“Purchasing supplies from either holders or factors will drive the costs of goods up here, no matter how it’s done.”
“There are costs to war that no ruler can pay.” Vaelora smiled. “I have no doubts Submarshal Skarpa will have done what he can, dearest. If he hasn’t, you can always go to the High Holders. You have a way with them.”
Quaeryt made a sour face. “Just another form of coercion.”
“All power is a form of coercion,” she pointed out.
“It is,” he agreed, “but the problem is that you can’t get much done without power, and the less power you use, in whatever form, the longer it takes to get things done. The more you use, the more likely people are going to get hurt or killed.”
“Sometimes, using more quickly hurts fewer people than not acting.” She looked at him. “A man who doesn’t act can claim he didn’t do anything to hurt people, but what happens if more people die because he doesn’t want blood on his hands?”
“I understand that argument all too well, dear. It’s why I have nightmares.”
“No … you have nightmares because you understand the costs of power. Those who don’t sleep soundly. You’ve often wondered why Bhayar is up so early every day. It’s because he worries himself awake.”
Quaeryt hadn’t even considered that, he had to admit.
“Now … dearest … shall we prepare to ride to Eluthyn?”
By way of an answer, Quaeryt stood and extended his hand to Vaelora.
Two quints later, as they rode westward on the towpath, escorted by first squad from first company, Quaeryt looked at the canal water level, which seemed to be almost as high as it had been before the breach-until they reached the closed water gate. While water was filling the space between the easternmost lock and the water gate, it was less than a yard deep, needing another yard before it reached a level equal with that behind the emergency water gate to the east.
Before long, they began to ride past more and more cots set in the fields, both to the north and the south of the canal, and then the towpath was bordered by warehouses and factorages, stretching for the several hundred yards leading to the first lock just east of where the canal crossed the Phraan River. The water level remained about a yard deep, and most of the canal boats tied to the bollards on the canal wall tilted slightly one way or the other, indicating that the water had not yet risen enough to lift them off the bottom of the canal.
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