Imager’s Battalion

“That may be, but I’d wager we won’t get a response until sometime in the morning.”

Quaeryt nodded, but he had his doubts about that. Deucalon might lag with his forces, but he’d have no qualms about pushing Skarpa and Fifth Battalion.

“You need some food and rest.”

That, Quaeryt didn’t doubt.

75

Quaeryt was standing outside one of the temporarily abandoned cots west of the battle site before seventh glass on Solayi morning, still thinking about the results of the cannon. You’ve worried about trying to do too much with your imaging, but somehow it’s always worked out. Can you count on that?

He was still pondering that when Skarpa rode up and dismounted.

“How are you feeling this morning?” asked the commander.

“Sore. What else would you expect?” Sore was an understatement, since every movement hurt to some degree, and his chest, which had almost felt healed, ached once more.

“A dispatch rider showed up about a quint ago. I thought you’d like to see what the marshal’s orders are.” Skarpa extended the sheet of heavy paper.

Quaeryt took it and began to read, skipping past the salutation and flowery first words.

… Given the likelihood that favorable weather will not last, you are to press on with deliberate haste until you reach a favorable staging position for a final attack on Variana. Such a position should be no farther than a half day’s travel from the city’s edge unless you earlier encounter any defensive works too great for your forces to surmount without exorbitant cost …

Quaeryt handed the sheet back to Skarpa. “What cost is exorbitant? When you don’t have enough troopers left to hold off the Bovarians before Deucalon can arrive?”

“Something like that.”

“When should we be ready to ride out?”

“Well…” drawled Skarpa, “the orders say deliberate haste. Say around ninth glass. By then I should have good scouting reports for the river road over the next ten milles. That’s almost to the outskirts of Variana.” He offered a crooked smile. “I told the scouts to look for places on the side roads with recent smoothing or repairs. Also for really deep ruts anywhere.”

“Do you think we’ll see more cannon before we reach Variana?”

“I’d not be surprised if there might be one or two that try to loft a shot or two into the front of the column.” Skarpa shrugged. “Also wouldn’t be surprised if there were none, and all that Kharst has could be waiting for us outside Variana.”

“The maps don’t show any bridges over the Aluse between Caluse and Variana.”

“Might be because there aren’t any. That also might be why Deucalon didn’t have much choice in crossing the Aluse.”

“Because Kharst wouldn’t want us to take his chateau?”

“That … and most of the city is east of the River Aluse. So Deucalon would have to take the city first just to get to the bridges in order to reach the chateau. Also … once we take the chateau and defeat Kharst, the folk in the city will give Lord Bhayar less trouble. Makes sense.”

“It also makes sense for us to soften things up for the marshal.”

“That’s what junior commanders and subcommanders do. Even when they’re not imagers.”

Quaeryt smiled wryly, accepting the modest rebuke. “We’ll be ready by ninth glass.”

“We likely won’t see any Bovarians for a bit, but you never know.” Skarpa nodded, slipped the order sheet back into his uniform, then returned to his horse and mounted.

As the commander rode off, Zhelan appeared. “Sir?”

“We’re to be ready to ride by ninth glass.”

“With all due respect, sir…”

“It’s not the commander’s decision, but the marshal’s.”

“Yes, sir.”

The way in which Zhelan agreed suggested the major was less than impressed by Deucalon’s orders.

By ninth glass, Quaeryt was still sore, but not quite so stiff when he mounted the mare, who seemed wholly untroubled or bruised. “You’re hardier than I am.”

“Sir?” asked Khalis, who’d had a tendency to hover around Quaeryt, and who was already mounted and waiting.

“Just telling my mare she was tougher than I am.”

Khalis shook his head.

“She’s fine. I’m the one who’s sore.”

“That’s because you shielded her, sir. She knows that.”

Quaeryt had his doubts about that, but only said, “She’s been good to me.” He wasn’t looking forward to the day’s ride, and he had the feeling many of the troopers likely weren’t, either, especially those in third company.

Fifth Battalion led the column, and Skarpa rode beside Quaeryt under a hazy sky. Again, they saw no High Holdings anywhere near, and only two that might have been, in the distance to the west, down narrow lanes. Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder why there were so few. He would have thought there would be more nearer to Variana. Then again, maybe it was just that there weren’t that many High Holdings. Even a thousand High Holders spread over a land the size of Bovaria would mean not that many all that close together.

So why were there so many more closer to Ferravyl? Because of the Naedaran influence and affluence in the past? Trade on the river? Quaeryt had no idea, only possibilities.

As the time neared third glass, Quaeryt noted that the sky had turned slightly darker with thin high gray clouds.

“It’s a bit cooler,” observed Skarpa in the early afternoon. “Might get more so.”

“I’ll take the heat if it means we don’t get cold rain,” replied Quaeryt.

At a quint past first glass, a scout galloped back toward Quaeryt and Skarpa and pulled in beside the commander. “Sir! There are repaired holes on the side of the road ahead, and it looks like some of the paving stones have been replaced.”

Skarpa turned in the saddle. “Column! Halt!” Then he turned his attention to the scout. “How far ahead?”

“You see that pair of lowland pines on the right side of the road up there? Maybe a hundred yards past that … where that big lake and swamp begin, right west of the road. There are foot troopers on the flat farther along, but they’re not dug in. Didn’t see anything like cannon.”

“What about repairs?” asked Skarpa. “Are they longwise, running the length of the road, or sideways?”

“More like an angle, sir.”

Skarpa and Quaeryt studied the terrain. Farther west was a thickly forested area that seemed to stretch for milles, with but a single narrow dirt road angling south and then west from the small hamlet north of the swamp- fringed lake. The forest came to within a few hundred yards of the lake at the south end, and within a mille or so farther north, the trees were practically on the shore.

Quaeryt could also see that the narrow strip of land between the road and the river was low and open as well.

“What do you think?” asked Skarpa.

“The cannon have to be somewhere in front of the woods on the other side of south end of the lake,” suggested Quaeryt. “Maybe just inside the trees.”

“That would account for the angle of the gouges in the road that they repaired.” The commander paused. “We couldn’t ride through the road ahead or the land flanking it without taking a lot of casualties … if they have cannon.”

“Then we’ll have to see if they do and take their cannon. Once they’re gone, dealing with whatever forces are