“High Holder Chaelaet requested that I tender his regrets that he was unable to meet with you, Submarshal.”
Quaeryt decided against correcting him. “Who are you?”
“Loetnyn, the assistant steward.” The white-haired man offered a resigned expression.
“Where might High Holder Chaelaet be at present?”
“I could not say, sir, save that he is not anywhere in the hold or in the nearby properties.”
That didn’t surprise Quaeryt. “Do all the High Holder’s armsmen wear green and gold?”
“Sir?”
Quaeryt waited.
“Yes, sir. They always have.”
That settled another question, and it definitely made Quaeryt even less sympathetic to the absent High Holder. “How many people are in the hold at the moment?”
“I couldn’t say exactly, sir. There are fifty some servants, usually, but a number are with the High Holder and his family. I could not say exactly. Perhaps a score.”
“And their families?”
“Most live in the village.”
“That’s at the end of the walled walk and steps to the east?”
Loetnyn frowned, his eyes taking in the mounted and armed men who filled the courtyard. “Yes, sir.”
“You are to pass the word that everyone-every last man, woman, and child-is to be beyond the walls of the hold in less than a glass. Anyone who remains will die. While they are leaving, you will show us the items of value suitable to be saved and given to Lord Bhayar.”
Loetnyn’s mouth dropped open. He swallowed without speaking. Finally, he managed a weak, “But … sir…”
“What did High Holder Chaelaet expect, steward? He has not pledged allegiance to Lord Bhayar. He will not meet with his envoys.”
“He said … sir … to tell you that he expected the courtesy due any High Holder.” Loetnyn swallowed.
“He has offered no courtesy and no acknowledgment of allegiance to Lord Bhayar. He can scarcely expect it in return.”
“But…” Loetnyn appeared totally aghast, as if he could not believe what was about to happen.
“Enough,” said Quaeryt quietly.
It took almost two glasses to inspect the hold and all the rooms that might have held items of value. There were few of those, fewer than Quaeryt had expected, and he had not expected many given the location of the hold. Most of Chaelaet’s wealth had to lie in the lands and their harvests and possibly in timber.
There were no golds or silvers in the empty strong room. There was a magnificent harp in the holder’s personal quarters and a lute almost as precious, but no clavecin anywhere, not that Quaeryt would have been able to remove it. There were several tapestries, quite an array of worked silver, mainly for dining, and, surprisingly, an antique Cloisonyt vase glazed in shimmering green … possibly the single most valuable object in the hold, yet it had been almost buried in a cabinet holding worn silver pitchers.
All told, it took a small wagon to hold the various treasures.
The steward kept looking at Quaeryt as if he could not believe that a minion of Lord Bhayar would so casually loot a high holding.
You’re going to be even more shocked shortly. Unfortunately. Quaeryt turned to the assistant steward. “I do hope that everyone has left the hold.”
“You aren’t going to fire it, are you?”
“No.” Quaeryt paused. “We’re going to level it into a heap of bricks and stone.”
“… No…” The protest was barely murmured.
“Your master does not seem to have grasped the fact that Lord Bhayar does not brook defiance or even casual disregard.”
“But … what of the people … the village?”
“We have no intention of touching either. Why do you think we gave you warning … and insisted on people leaving the hold?” Despite the warnings, Quaeryt had his doubts that everyone had left … but he’d done what he could.
Keeping Loetnyn with him, Quaeryt returned to the courtyard and gathered the imagers. “We’re headed to the northern end of the hold. We’ll bring down the walls and the buildings starting there.”
Quaeryt watched as, numbly, Loetnyn walked beside the mare along the stone lane beside the main keep and past an overgrown space that looked to have once held gardens, with two large heaps of manure on the north end, and then between a long and moderately kept barracks across from a long stable. Quaeryt reined up in the space between the north end of the stable and barracks, where he studied the low walls and the small orchard beyond the paved area. Then he turned the saddle.
“Undercaptain Baelthm, forward.”
When the oldest undercaptain rode forward, Quaeryt gestured toward the small outbuilding beneath the walls. “See what you can do to bring that down.”
Baelthm looked quizzically at Quaeryt.
“Do what you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
Although Quaeryt was ready to help, Baelthm managed to bring the walls in and down by imaging away the keystone over the door and, Quaeryt suspected, by removing a small section of a support beam. Even so, the older imager was white and shaking when he finished.
“Good thinking. Drink something, and then eat some biscuits,” said Quaeryt. “Undercaptain Khalis, forward.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Flatten as much of the wall as you can without totally exhausting yourself. I’d prefer that it collapse outward so that all the rubble falls over the cliffs.”
Khalis nodded, then turned and concentrated.
After several moments the entire north wall, from corner tower to corner tower, a length of nearly seventy-five yards, shivered and then slowly tumbled outward, leaving only a set of massive foundation stones protruding less than half a yard above the remaining ground.
“Undercaptain Lhandor, forward.” Quaeryt waited, and then ordered, “The west wall from the corner back even with the north end of the stables.”
More stones crumbled and then tumbled.
Section by section, Quaeryt and the imagers retreated, leveling walls and buildings, until the entire hold had been leveled except for the main keep, a four-level stone structure, and the walls and gates to the south of it. He’d also had Baelthm remove the narrow wooden bridge that led over another deep declivity to the path winding down the east side of the rocky hill to the village. The air was far colder than it had been two glasses before, and flakes of ice dropped out of the clear sky intermittently.
“Back across the bridge and hold!” Quaeryt ordered, then waited as first company crossed.
Once the entire force had withdrawn through the gates and across the bridge to the lane down to the main road, Quaeryt and the undercaptains followed them. Quaeryt doubted that any of the undercaptains were ready for powerful imaging-but they would be again by Meredi or Jeudi, when it would be necessary once more.
That meant he’d have to bring down the main keep and the remaining walls by himself. He’d studied the keep, and seen that the south wall seemed to lean. He squared himself in the saddle, then concentrated on the main keep, on drawing whatever warmth he could from the depths beneath the largely leveled hold and visualizing a seamless circular pillar in the middle of a smooth surface where there had been rubble rising skyward, composed of all the stones from the keep and the walls.
Light flared everywhere for a moment, then vanished.
Quaeryt rocked in the saddle, his head throbbing. He could still see, and what he saw was a white column some five yards across rising a good fifty yards above the flattened paved surface where there had been a hold. Surrounding the column was a white mist that slowly began to dissipate. Then the white surface split, and shards of ice cascaded down, leaving a featureless gray circular column with a flat top dominating the hill.
The wooden bridge had vanished, but so silently that, for a moment, not even Quaeryt had noticed.
Behind Quaeryt, no one said a word.
He glanced down. Loetnyn had turned pale. He stood there shuddering.
Quaeryt looked at the assistant steward. “Your master’s high holding and the lands it once held are now the possessions of Lord Bhayar. Should he be unwise enough to attempt any action against Lord Bhayar, his life will also be forfeit … and so will that of any man who joins him or fights for him.”
“You … you are like the ancients returned.”
“No. Unlike them, we will never rule. We only serve. And we serve those we believe to be the most just. Did we attempt to harm a single person in the hold?”
Loetnyn looked down.
“Go,” said Quaeryt quietly, image-projecting authority and a sense of fairness and justice.
The assistant steward remained standing at the edge of the narrow road that ended at the bridgeless gorge. Then he turned and headed into the trees, stumbling as much as walking.
Quaeryt looked to Zhelan. “Order the company to return to the regiment.”
“First company! Forward!”
Zhelan did not speak again until they had ridden more than a hundred yards down the lane, letting first company lead the way. “Do you think what you did will endear the peasants to Lord Bhayar?”
“Not at first,” Quaeryt admitted.
“If this High Holder gathers his men, they will not desert him.”
“Then they will die.” Quaeryt sighed. “Perhaps by the second or third time, some holder’s followers will understand.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but some will never understand why. They will only comply through fear.”
“If that fear turns to respect, and I believe it will in time, all will be well.” He paused, then asked quietly, “Do you have any suggestions for dealing with the next High Holder?”
The major did not reply for a time, then finally said, “I would that I did, sir. They are all … if one is charitable or kindly just, they see that as weakness. Yet they see any strength that they cannot overcome as vileness.”
“I’ve gotten that impression. I don’t want to lose troopers to make holders feel better.”
“No, sir. You shouldn’t.” Those words were said firmly.
Compared to the High Holders of Bovaria, the Khellan High Council seemed to show the height of reasonableness, Quaeryt reflected. He rode silently, still trying to think of another strategy that would not risk troopers and imagers, given what they faced. He hadn’t thought of one by the time first company rejoined the regiment.
“I take it that the noble High Holder Chaelaet was not present?” asked Skarpa when Quaeryt rejoined him.
“He left an assistant steward to tell me…” Quaeryt explained what had happened.
When Quaeryt finished, Skarpa nodded, a gesture that was both resigned and accepting. “It won’t be this easy the next time.”
“It might not be that hard with High Holder Duravyt on Vendrei. He may not have word by then.”
“He will. We’re probably being watched right now.”
“You’re likely right. But he won’t have much time to set a trap in the hold, and he won’t want to destroy his own hold or keep. After that … the possibilities are even worse,” replied Quaeryt dryly. And that will mean that we’ll have to be even nastier. Still … what else could they do? Requests from Bhayar hadn’t resulted in pledges of allegiance. Politeness hadn’t worked. Nor had a show of force.
“If the others are as stubborn as Chaelaet, all of their holds may have to be reduced or destroyed.” Skarpa looked to Quaeryt, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“I don’t see any alternatives-not that won’t take tens of regiments and longer than it took to get full allegiance in Tilbor. Do you?”
Skarpa shook his head. “They’ve been allowed to be too independent for too long. Rex Kharst was too indulgent.”
And that was the pity of it all. The southern High Holders-and perhaps others far from Variana-wouldn’t respect anything that was a reasonable overture, and anything that they would respect was far from reasonable.
But hasn’t it always been that way with those who have held too much power or wealth for too long? He eased his mount back beside Vaelora.
“You didn’t have any choice…” she murmured in a low voice.
He did not look back in the direction of the gray column dominating the flattened hilltop as they rode back toward Geusyn.
48
On Meredi morning Quaeryt readied himself to take first company, as well as Alazyn’s Nineteenth Regiment, back out to Laetor. Once on the road below the leveled hold, he and the undercaptains would begin clearing, smoothing, and improving the narrow track that led to the next nearest hold, because he wanted to clear the road as much as possible before Jeudi, especially since there was no way to meet with High Holder Duravyt on Jeudi without covering much of the distance from Geusyn the day before.
Vaelora had started to dress when Quaeryt shook his head. “You’ll be coming with Skarpa and his two regiments later today. We talked about that last night, remember? You said you were tired.”
“That was last night.”
Quaeryt still thought she looked tired, but saying that would only stiffen her resolve. So he waited as she continued.
“You talked about leaving early. I don’t remember you saying anything about my being escorted by Skarpa.”
“I thought that was clear.”
“Clear? How?”
“Because we’re a working party, merely improving the roads for you. You’re Lord Bhayar’s sister and the most important envoy. Having you with me sooner than necessary for a member of the ruling family would undermine your status in the eyes of the High Holders … and of the Autarch.”
“Merely improving the roads?” replied Vaelora with a light sardonic tone. “And what, exactly, does the Autarch have to do with it?”
“You’ll need every evidence of stature when we have to treat with him.”
“If we have to treat with him, and that’s unlikely, dearest.”
“You think so?”
“I do … one way or the other.”
“I would strongly prefer that you rest this morning and come with Skarpa,” Quaeryt said gently.
“Since you are expressing a preference … and not commanding, dearest…” Vaelora paused meaningfully before concluding, “I will rest this morning.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt tried not to sigh in relief.
“You’re sweet when you’re concerned,” she added, “especially when you stop trying to order me around.” She smiled, an expression both pleased, yet appreciative. “Not that you do all that often. But still…”
Bhayar said that she could be difficult. He’d also mentioned something about Quaeryt being difficult and the two of them deserving each other.
“I’m glad you’re taking a full regiment.”
He looked at her quizzically.
“If the undercaptains have to clear that much road, they’ll be tired by the end of the day. So will you. You might think about sending a company ahead of the clearing … if you haven’t already.”
“Farsight … or prudence?” he asked.
“Prudence. You know that the only farsight flash I’ve had since we left Variana doesn’t make much sense.”
“Do you want to tell me?”
“You know how I feel about that.” She shook her head. “Besides, I don’t think it reflects something about to happen soon.”
“Like when you saw yourself entering the Telaryn Palace years before it happened?”
“You like the thought that we were destined to be together.” Vaelora smiled. “You know, the idea of destiny is a bit of a conflict for a man who doesn’t believe in the Nameless. How can there be destiny without some force creating it?”
“Maybe there is a force, just not the Nameless or the Namer.”
“Then … it’s still a Nameless force.”
Quaeryt couldn’t argue that. “I need to be moving.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He flushed, then shook his head. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Skarpa
is planning to ride out just before noon.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Quaeryt stepped forward and put his arms around Vaelora, conscious as he only had been recently of the physical reminder that they would be parents. He embraced her gently, kissed her, and stepped back, taking a long look at her before turning and leaving the chamber.
Less than a glass later, wearing his winter jacket, if full open, he was riding near the front of the column headed eastward once more, with Alazyn on one side of him and Zhelan on the other. With the comparative smoothness of the imager-improved road, the ride to the gateposts that marked Laetor was far easier than it would have been otherwise, and it was only slightly after eighth glass when they reined up. Quaeryt glanced toward the gray stone column. It did look ominous against the high gray clouds that he hoped did not foreshadow a cold winter rain.
“Commander…?” asked Alazyn, his voice low but firm.
“Yes?”
“Begging your pardon, sir. I know you’ve explained that we need to clear and widen these roads, but…”
“Why now when, if we have to destroy more holds, there won’t be any holdings left?”
Alazyn nodded.
“Because there aren’t enough imagers to be everywhere. Once we leave, regular troopers can use the roads as necessary with less fear of ambush. Also, it will allow the locals to travel and trade more. The more they do that, the sooner Bovaria and Telaryn will be truly united.” You hope. “That will, I trust, limit the years and years of skirmishes and rebellion that occurred in both Khel and Tilbora.”
“Do you think…?”
“That it will be that easy?” Quaeryt snorted. “Hardly. But anything we can do now that makes things easier for those who are helpful in uniting Lydar and harder on those who aren’t will cost us fewer lives in the future. Especially if we can do it without many casualties.”
“I can see that,” said Alazyn.
“Before we begin with the imagers, I’d like a company sent out to hold a position a half mille or so ahead of us. The imagers will be concentrating on the road, and I don’t want them surprised. The troopers aren’t to stand and fight anyone who attacks. If that happens, they’re to withdraw and let the imager undercaptains move forward to deal with the attackers … or at least widen the fighting area so that the attackers can’t dart back in and out of the trees and entice our troopers into that sort of skirmish.”
Antiagon Fire ip-7 Page 36