Quaeryt nodded. “She never said much, but the few times I intimated such, she didn’t disagree, and she fled Variana after her sister’s death in rather sordid circumstances involving Kharst. She confided in Vaelora, but Vaelora had to promise not to tell me anything, except that where women were concerned, Kharst was far worse than any of the stories about him.”
“The stories tell of a man who’s little more than a beast.”
“I can only tell you what I’ve heard, but Vaelora doesn’t exaggerate, and I don’t think Mistress Eluisa does, either.” Absently, he hoped that Eluisa D’Taelmyn was still at the Telaryn Palace in Tilbora. Then he almost smiled as he recalled that Vaelora had never finished learning the clavecin pieces from Eluisa. There were always loose ends, in personal and professional sides of life.
Skarpa slid into the seat between the other two officers. “We just got a dispatch from Deucalon.”
Quaeryt decided to say nothing.
Meinyt snorted.
“Neither of you looks pleased.” Skarpa took the ale that the serving woman had left and took a swallow. “Can’t say that you’re wrong.” He set down the mug. “They’re still in Rivecote Nord. Their casualties were few, since the battalion stationed there decided to withdraw after initial contact rather than face destruction. They’ve got the cable ferry working. The rest of the dispatch is politely worded. We’re not to advance precipitously. He wants better descriptions of where we are, since the places we’ve been aren’t on the maps he has.”
“Did he say anything about our taking Rivecote Sud?” asked Quaeryt.
“Not a word. I wrote a dispatch before we left to be sent to him once they got the cable ferry back. Told him your imagers had made our capture of Rivecote Sud almost without casualties.” Skarpa grinned momentarily. “I also mentioned the winch repair. His dispatch said it was still holding up after they replaced the cables and restored the ferry service.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” replied Quaeryt.
Skarpa took another swallow of the ale, then looked up toward the gray-haired woman.
She hurried over. “Yes, sir?”
“Appreciate your serving the three of us.”
“Yes, sir.” She scurried off.
“I’ll have to reply, right after we eat,” Skarpa went on, “since the marshal requested that I confirm his orders, and commanded the dispatch rider to wait for my response.”
“Worries about your initiative, does he?” said Meinyt.
“All marshals worry about their commanders’ initiative, whether they have too much or too little. Just as commanders worry about that in their subcommanders.”
“Some commanders,” suggested Quaeryt, “are less uncomfortable with initiative in subordinates.”
“Only when they trust them,” said Skarpa dryly, “and I can trust you two to overextend yourselves and your men … and somehow make it work.” Before either subcommander could say more, he added, “Is there anything you haven’t told me that the marshal should know?”
Meinyt shook his head.
“The locals don’t seem to have any great affection for Rex Kharst,” Quaeryt said. “The marshal might see if that’s so on his side of the river, or just here because it’s more isolated.”
“I’ll mention that. Anything else?”
“Not that we haven’t told you.”
“Good. We might as well eat hearty.” Skarpa glanced at the server approaching with three platters.
19
Later on Solayi, Quaeryt and first company rode out to the local high holding, only to find that the dwelling was shuttered and secured, as were all the outbuildings, with no sign of retainers or tenants. That, Quaeryt suspected, was likely true for many holdings as they neared Villerive. They left everything untouched and returned to Roule where, thankfully, Skarpa did not require services, perhaps because he had the men readying themselves to set out on Lundi morning. Quaeryt did notice that Skarpa sent a dispatch to Deucalon announcing his actions just as they left Roule.
By Meredi evening, a dispatch courier caught up with them, bearing orders for Skarpa to stop in the next sizable town and to inform the marshal of their location, and not to advance unless attacked or required to deal with Bovarian forces … or unless he received orders.
Skarpa made no comment, but only passed the dispatch to Meinyt and Quaeryt.
“Does he want to take until winter to reach Variana?” groused Meinyt.
“Marshal Deucalon is very cautious,” suggested Quaeryt.
Skarpa raised his eyebrows, then said, “We’d best find a good sizable town, then.”
That took another three days, because the commander deemed all those through which they passed as hamlets or “little better than hamlets,” although several were almost as large as Roule or Rivecote Sud. Skarpa did send off dispatch riders every day, reporting on each of the hamlets or small towns, and their locations, while observing the lack of sizable towns on the south side of the river that met Deucalon’s criteria.
Finally, just before ninth glass on Solayi morning, the scouts reported a millestone stating that Caernyn was six milles ahead.
“That’s even on the map,” observed Skarpa.
Both subcommanders, riding on each side of him, laughed.
The scout looked puzzled, but set off once more to investigate the town.
Two glasses later, the scouts returned, riding hard before they reined up. “Sir … they’ve got troops. More than we’ve seen since Ferravyl. They’re dug in behind stone walls, not really exactly forts, on the slopes south of the town. There’s a long swamp on the south.”
Skarpa looked to the subcommanders “Had to happen sooner or later.” Then he asked the scout, “What about the troops? How many?”
“It’s hard to tell, sir. They look to have more than a regiment, and some are wearing maroon uniforms.”
“Maroon uniforms? Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t say that they all are, but most of those we saw were.”
“What else? Did you see any catapults? Or cannon?”
“There weren’t any cannon ports in the walls, sir, but we couldn’t rightly see what was behind them. We had to ride hard to escape one of their patrols.”
“How does the river road approach the town and those slopes…?” Skarpa asked questions for almost a quint before he sent the scout off to discover what else he could. Then he ordered the regiments forward once more.
“Maroon uniforms,” offered Meinyt. “They wouldn’t be Antiagon troops, would they?”
“Who else would be in maroon? But why would they be here? It’s more than five hundred milles to the nearest part of Antiago.”
“The Autarch did wed Kharst’s niece,” offered Quaeryt. “It just could be that Aliaro fears that if Bhayar takes even the eastern half of Bovaria, he’ll turn his sights to taking Antiago.”
“That’s more likely, except that regiment had to be in Bovaria before we even set out from Ferravyl,” said Skarpa.
“Maybe the Autarch thought Kharst would defeat us, and he wanted his share of the spoils,” suggested Meinyt.
“We need to give him his fair share,” said Skarpa sarcastically. “If we can.”
“If we can?” asked Meinyt. “They’ve only got a regiment.”
“They’re using stone walls,” said Quaeryt. “Do you think they might have imagers and Antiagon Fire? Was that why you asked about catapults?”
“With Antiagons, that’s possible.” He frowned. “They probably won’t have imagers, not in Bovarian territory. Antiagon Fire-that’s more likely. If they do, we’ll need your imagers.”
Quaeryt frowned. “I’ll have to think about what they can do.” He glanced to the hazy but clear sky. No chance of rain. Not soon, anyway.
“One of them can deflect arrows. Why not a fireball thrown from a catapult?”
“Arrows don’t weigh nearly as much.”
“And a bridge doesn’t weigh anything?” asked Skarpa.
“None of us have,” Skarpa said, “but we’re likely to find out sooner or later.”
“I need to talk to the imagers.” Quaeryt guided the mare back along the narrow shoulder of the road until he reached Fifth Battalion. As he eased in beside Major Zhelan, he called out, “Undercaptain Voltyr, forward.”
Voltyr rode forward.
“Do you know anything about Antiagon Fire?”
“Sir?”
“We’re likely about to face an Antiagon regiment that’s positioned behind stone walls. Would you like to wager that they don’t have at least some weapons that employ Antiagon Fire?”
“No, sir. But I don’t know much about it.”
“It has to be created by imagers, it’s said.”
“Yes, sir, but I don’t know how. No imager I know ever knew how.”
“What do you know about it?”
“It’s supposed to be a sticky liquid that’s dark, like bitumen, and it has resins mixed in it, and some say brimstone, and then there’s a yellow-white powder that’s mixed with that, but it has to be coated with hot wax or it will burn, even on top of water.”
“It burns on top of water?” asked Zhelan.
“I’ve read about that,” replied Quaeryt. “Do you know why it takes an imager to make it?”
Voltyr shrugged. “No, sir, except I heard that only an imager could create the powder.”
Quaeryt looked to Zhelan. “Have you ever encountered it?”
“No, sir. Aren’t the Antiagons the only ones who have it?”
“At least one High Holder from Nacliano has it,” replied Quaeryt. “His ships have special cannon and shells they use against pirates.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.”
“Voltyr … ask the others if they know anything about Antiagon Fire, then ride back and ask the Khellan majors.”
“Yes, sir.”
In little less than a quint Voltyr returned with the information that none of the imagers or Khellan officers knew more than he and Quaeryt had already discussed.
As he rode on, Quaeryt continued to think. Given the way Captain Shuld had handled the shells on the Diamond Naclia, it had been clear they could easily explode. That meant a regiment likely wouldn’t carry large amounts … But what if they kept them in small containers, like miniature cannonballs that would fit in small catapults? He tried to recall what had happened to the pirate ship. The flames hadn’t appeared until after the shell struck … Yet it couldn’t have been the impact that created them-or they didn’t need much of an impact because there were too many reports of Antiagon Fire being used against troops in situations where the impact of a shell or globe grenade could not have been that forceful.
When, a glass later, just after midday, Skarpa called a halt more than a mille from the stone emplacements, Quaeryt still had no answers. For all his questions, he had come up with only one possible way of dealing with the Antiagon Fire. And it was a way he really didn’t want to try, especially after he rode forward to join Skarpa and Meinyt and surveyed what lay before them.
The approach to Caernyn was suited far more to defense than attack. The river road followed a tongue of land, likely man-made, through a marshy lowland before leaving the swamp and rising along the right side of a slope that extended a half mille or so before flattening out. The marsh continued around the base of the slope as far as the eye could see, turning into a lake at some point. The far left end of the slope was heavily wooded, and the woods angled westward away from the marsh. The river road rose from the swampy lowland into a gradual slope that bordered a bluff overlooking the River Aluse. Near the top of the slope a waist-high brick wall some five yards from the right shoulder of the road marked the edge of a steep drop-off down to the River Aluse. Between the road and the woods was an expanse of meadow that held grass and a few low scrub bushes. At the top of the slope, between the road and the woods, was a pair of long walls rising two yards above the matted grass that grew right up to the ancient stones.
At the river end of the wall flew a banner bearing the emblem of a chateau in the center of a yellow sunburst against a vivid blue background. At the southwestern end of the walls was a second banner, bearing a jagged lightning bolt of green and yellow crossed with a stylized halberd, all against a bright maroon background.
So … Kharst … or those who ruled before him … believes he is the sun whose light illuminates Bovaria? Do all rulers believe they are at the center of everything? Quaeryt was afraid he knew the answer to his question.
“Subcommanders, do you have any suggestions as to how we might best attack?” Skarpa raised his eyebrows.
“Go around them if we can, and attack from the rear,” suggested Meinyt.
“It’s twenty-five milles around the southern end of that swamp and lake,” replied Skarpa. “Might be farther than that, and it looks like the approach from the west isn’t much better.”
“Why’d they build a town here, then?” asked Meinyt.
“Just for that reason,” said Quaeryt. “In the early years it was probably hard for river reavers to get to flatboats who tied up here.”
Skarpa nodded. “It’s a good spot to stop on the river, and the higher ground along the river goes for maybe eight milles. The map shows the marsh and the lake as just one long lake. Could be the place was an island in the river a long time back. Anyway, it’s here, and we can’t just go around it and leave an Antiagon regiment sitting here.”
“They were sent here to stop us,” suggested Quaeryt. “They’ll have Antiagon Fire and who knows what else. They might even know that you’ve got imagers.”
“That thought had occurred to me,” said Skarpa. “Do you have something in mind?”
“Just that I’d rather not lose a lot of troopers this far from Variana.” Quaeryt paused. “Is there any way to get to those woods over there?”
Skarpa smiled crookedly. “The marsh is filled with swamp lizards, some of them three, four yards in length, with teeth as long as a man’s hand. If you stay away from the water, you’ll be exposed, but it’s a bit far for their archers.”
“Can you send scouts to see what the woods are like?”
“I already have, but none of them have come back … and they should have by now. That means I’ll need to send a squad, because we don’t want to mount an attack and discover another regiment on our flank.”
Left unsaid was the fact that the casualties would likely be high for a recon squad.
A quint later, Quaeryt watched as a squad from Third Battalion rode across the lower part of the grassy slope, some fifteen or twenty yards above the reeds that marked the edge of the marsh. A few shafts flew from the stone ramparts, but fell short. Then, when the scouting squad was less than a hundred yards from the woods, scores of shafts flew out, and four riders slumped in their saddles immediately, and several others were hit. The squad turned and withdrew, not quite at a gallop, and not quickly enough to avoid having three other troopers take shafts.
“I’d say that they’ve got two companies of archers there, maybe more,” observed Meinyt.
“There is one way,” mused Skarpa. “We could do exactly what they want. Just do it at a time and in a way that they won’t expect.”
“A night attack?” Meinyt frowned.
“That or an attack well before dawn,” said Skarpa. “We’d have to make certain that there aren’t any pits in the road or on the shoulder or in the grass beside the road.” He looked to Quaeryt. “Could your imagers put smoke and pepper behind the stoneworks just before we attack. With that and in the dark…”
“I’d have to get them within a few hundred yards. First company would need to be one of the lead companies.”
“Why not all Fifth Battalion?” asked Meinyt. “The Khellans need to do
their share.”
“That might be best,” agreed Quaeryt.
Skarpa nodded. “Once it’s dark, I’ll have men walk the road. They should be able to get within a few hundred yards before the Bovarians-or the Antiagons-start lofting shafts. They can mark any pits or traps with reeds.”
“Getting the reeds might be a problem,” said Quaeryt.
“There are enough along the part of the road we just traveled away from the swamp lizards,” replied Skarpa. “Once the pits are marked, we’ll wait a time, then form up silently-or as quietly as the troopers can-just out of range of bows and catapults…”
After another half glass or so, Quaeryt returned to Fifth Battalion. First, he briefed Zhelan, Ghaelyn, and the imager undercaptains on what they could expect, with possible tactics with which they could respond. Then he summoned all the Khellan officers. Once they had gathered, he surveyed them, then began, in Bovarian.
“There are likely two regiments at the top of the slope. One is Bovarian, the other Antiagon. The Antiagons may have their fire. They also have filled the woods to the west with archers. The idea behind their defense is to force us to take the road, and then pin us against the wall and the cliff … or to require us to make a direct attack on stone ramparts. It would take two to three days to withdraw and then make our way around the swamp and lake … and the western approach is almost as bad. The marsh and the lake to the west are filled with swamp lizards, and we don’t have boats.”
Six pairs of dark eyes studied Quaeryt, along with those of Zhelan and the undercaptains.
With a smile Quaeryt wasn’t certain he felt, he went on. “So we’re going to do what they expect in a way they don’t expect, and Fifth Battalion will be among the lead forces. After dark, scouts will walk and creep up the road and mark any pits or traps…” He went on to explain the details of the planned attack.
When he finished he asked, “Is that clear?”
Major Calkoran nodded politely, then asked, “Do you wish us to give quarter?”
Quaeryt responded, “If someone has fallen or is too badly wounded to fight, leave them. Do not pursue those who flee-unless Major Zhelan or I give the order to do so. Our task is to defeat those who oppose us and take the town, not to slaughter the helpless.” He smiled. “This is not kindness on my part, or that of the commander. Slaughtering those wounded who cannot defend themselves wastes strength and takes time. We need to defeat and scatter them so they cannot re-form those who might delay us on our way to take Variana and to destroy Rex Kharst.”
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