“Because his wife will make sure he survives as a cripple?”
Arion nodded.
“I thought that only fair. The lands were hers, and so long as he lives, she cannot be forced to marry someone else.”
“If she has no children, he will live only long enough for her to find another High Holder suitable for her. If she has children … he will live only long enough for her to claim that he died of natural causes that came from his stupidity in attacking you.”
Quaeryt nodded. Arion sounded as though he knew the Bovarian laws of succession better than did Quaeryt. “How do you know the laws of Bovaria?”
“I studied to become an advocate … until the time of the Red Death and the Bovarian invasion. Then there was greater need for skill with arms than with law.”
“Isn’t there a great deal of difference between the laws of Khel and those of Bovaria?”
“In many areas, they are similar. In the matter of property-holding and legal standing, women have more rights in Khel than they do in Bovaria … or Telaryn.”
That scarcely surprised Quaeryt, not given what he had learned about Pharsi women, especially in the last year. “But why did you study the laws of Bovaria and Telaryn?”
“Not so much the laws of Telaryn. Because there was much trade between Bovaria and Khel, our factors needed to know what recourse they had under Bovarian law.”
“Not much, I imagine,” said Quaeryt dryly.
“More than the Bovarians wanted us to have. That was another reason for the invasion. Many Bovarian factors owed thousands of golds to Khellan factors and traders, and they did not wish to pay what they owed…”
As Arion explained, Quaeryt listened, discovering in greater depth yet another reason for the Bovarian invasion of Khel.
In the end, it wasn’t much before the evening meal by the time the companies returned to Caernyn. Because Skarpa was tied up with his regimental quartermaster and requested that Meinyt and Quaeryt meet with him after the evening meal, Quaeryt checked with the other Fifth Battalion company commanders and the imagers, barely finishing before it was time to eat.
Afterward, Quaeryt and Meinyt waited until the public room of the River Inn emptied before joining Skarpa, as he had requested, in the corner farthest from the kitchen and the entry archway. Quaeryt brought a recently refilled mug of pale lager to the table. Meinyt’s mug contained lager, Quaeryt suspected, while Skarpa’s likely held ale.
Skarpa set down his mug and motioned for them to sit, then looked to Quaeryt. “How did your venture with the High Holder go?”
“Let’s say that it didn’t go exactly as planned, but he does have supplies that will be available to us. We also learned a few things … perhaps confirmed is a better word…” Quaeryt went on to explain what had happened.
When he had finished, Skarpa nodded. “That sounds like what I’ve heard about Rex Kharst. It’s good to know about the supplies.” He paused. “I’ll need to report about your encounter.”
“I had thought as much. I’ll also note it in my observations of High Holders.”
“Just say that this … Fauxyn was insolent and unwilling to be cooperative. He attacked you, and rather than killing him, you merely broke his knee and jaw. That should be sufficient, and that is what I will also report. His acts come from Bovarian law and customs, and Bhayar doesn’t much care for them. So they shouldn’t concern us or the campaign.” Skarpa turned to Meinyt. “Do you have anything to add?”
“We’ve seen boats putting out from the north side of the river. They’ve had Bovarians in uniform watching us.” Meinyt looked to Quaeryt. “You didn’t see any sign of scouts, did you?”
“No tracks, no sign of them.”
“Except for the river, neither have we,” said the grizzled subcommander. “How long does Deucalon want us to sit here waiting?”
“He’s decided to move,” replied Skarpa. “This afternoon, just before supper, I received orders to advance to the town just east of Villerive. That’s why I was talking to the quartermasters about supplies. We’re to head west immediately and take up positions to be able to move within glasses to intercept any Bovarians using the bridge at Villerive. We’re also to keep the bridge from being destroyed.” Skarpa glanced at Quaeryt. “Or be prepared to rebuild it.”
Quaeryt winced. “I think we need to be closer than that to the bridge.”
“We’ll see.”
“Did the marshal say anything about how they’re doing?”
“Only that they are advancing steadily without significant opposition.” Skarpa snorted. “We’ll likely run into that at Villerive.”
“Or Nordeau,” suggested Quaeryt.
“Why do you think they’ll wait until Nordeau?” Skarpa’s voice was level.
“If the maps are accurate, Nordeau is only a hundred milles from Variana. We’re already two hundred milles into Bovaria. Villerive is close to eighty milles east of Nordeau. If they wait at Nordeau, rather than Villerive, Kharst will have more time to bring forces from the west and southwest. He has to know that he’ll need every man and mount he can gather.”
“You don’t think they’ll just let us take Villerive?”
“No. If I were Kharst, I’d try to bleed us as much as possible, using as few troopers as necessary, all the way from Villerive to Nordeau.”
“They’ll try and hold us until the fall rains come,” said Meinyt. “Until winter, maybe. Said that Deucalon should have moved faster.”
“It may be that Lord Bhayar has made that point,” suggested Skarpa. “Regardless … we are where we are, and you need to have your men ready to move out at seventh glass in the morning, Subcommander Meinyt.”
“Sixth glass for Fifth Battalion?” asked Quaeryt. “So we can pick up those supplies from Fauxheld?”
Skarpa nodded. “I’ll have the quartermasters’ wagons following you. You’ll need to have all dispatches and reports ready just before sixth glass.” He swallowed the last from his mug, then set it on the table and stood. “That’s all.”
Quaeryt and Meinyt rose as well, and then left to inform their officers.
It was more than a glass later before Quaeryt entered his room, and half a glass more before he finished his report to Bhayar. Only then did he turn to finishing his letter to Vaelora, beginning by recounting the events at Fauxheld before adding his own musings.
