by two squads from Fifth Regiment that had reached the top of the cut, and casualties were taken care of, Skarpa called a halt in an open area another mille farther east, then summoned Meinyt and Quaeryt.
The three met under an oak that offered shade, but little other relief from the harvest heat and soggy still air … or the red flies that seemed to be everywhere. Quaeryt blotted his brow and waited for the commander to say what he would, absently shooing away the flies.
“We got too complacent,” Skarpa said bluntly. “We can’t afford losses like that. I mean, losses for no real purpose. They knew where we were and what we were doing.”
“We haven’t seen any scouts, and not even many boats on the river,” said Meinyt.
“That doesn’t mean there weren’t any.” Skarpa snorted. “It doesn’t mean there were, either.”
Quaeryt was afraid he knew exactly what the commander was suggesting, but decided to see if Skarpa would spell it out.
“They might have found it out from the other side of the river.”
“Spies in the main body, you think?” said Meinyt.
“Where there are golds and armies, there are spies. Here or there, doesn’t make much difference. From now on, we’ll have to be doubly careful of places where we could be ambushed. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many casualties?” asked Skarpa, looking to Meinyt and then to Quaeryt.
“Thirty-two dead, a hundred and two wounded,” replied the older subcommander, “and ten of those probably won’t make it.”
“Three wounded, one seriously,” added Quaeryt.
“Your imagers killed thirty-one of the archers.” Skarpa’s voice was even. “Our best count was that there were two companies up there.”
Quaeryt understood the unasked question. “Under those conditions, each imager has to concentrate on an individual archer. There are six imager undercaptains. That works out to more than five for each undercaptain in less than half a quint. The fact that they were killing archers is what prompted the Bovarians to withdraw when they did. Otherwise…”
“… they would have kept shooting down at us far longer.” Skarpa shook his head. “I’ll need to brief the scouts. Just because a place looks impossible to get to doesn’t mean that it is.”
“How did they get there, sir?” asked Meinyt.
“They used flatboats, probably in the dark last night or the night before, and pulled up in a cove on the north side of the point. You can’t even see it from the road because of the trees down there. Then they hiked up here and waited. The trail they took was too steep and narrow for the troopers to follow it down on horseback. By the time we had enough men to do that, they were on their flatboats heading across the river.” Skarpa looked to Quaeryt. “With everyone jammed up, I couldn’t get word to you quickly enough to get the imagers to where they could deal with the boats. That brings up another question. Could your imagers have set the upper slope afire? Could they do it again?”
Quaeryt considered before answering. “They might have been able to, but anything strong enough to fire green brush and kill archers might have been powerful enough to sweep down and kill some of our men.” He smiled wryly. “I’d like to claim I’d thought of that at the time. I didn’t. It just didn’t seem right.”
“You might keep that in mind in other places,” said Skarpa. “Sticky as it is right now, doesn’t mean we’ll get rain you can freeze.”
Quaeryt nodded.
“According to the scouts, there’s another town some eight milles ahead. Road looks clear, and there aren’t any more steep slopes or swamps along there, just fields and a bunch of orchards … and another holder’s place that looks deserted, but I’ll leave that to you and Fifth Battalion, Quaeryt.”
“Do you want us to take the lead?”
“Might as well. That way, you can stop and look the place over, then bring up the rear when you’re done. I’ll have the supply types bring up a couple of empty wagons just in case.”
“We can do that, but I’d wager it’ll be cleaned out.”
“I won’t be taking that … but you never know with High Holders.”
Quaeryt had known that for a long time, and the events of the last year had more than reinforced that lesson.
28
On Vendrei evening, the Telaryn forces occupied the small town of Fuenh eight milles west of the river point. Of the hundred or so dwellings, Skarpa had commandeered the large dwelling above the River Aluse that served as inn and public house. In the early evening, Quaeryt walked from the inn toward the stable that held the imager undercaptains.
Shaelyt and Akoryt were sitting astride a bench, playing plaques with a deck that appeared almost new. For a moment, Quaeryt wondered how that could be, then smiled and asked, “How many times have you imaged those plaques new, Shaelyt?”
The young undercaptain grinned. “These … not at all. They’re Akoryt’s. I do have a deck of fortune that’s been renewed a few times.”
“You didn’t have a sideline before you became an undercaptain, did you?” Quaeryt asked Akoryt.
“No, sir. Not that kind.” Akoryt offered a lopsided smile. “I did tell a few people that I could take their old plaque decks and trade them in for new ones cheaper than they could buy new ones. Mostly gamblers.”
“You’re from Estisle, right?”
“Yes, sir. Why do you ask?”
“It’s one of the few places where you could get away with that. Enjoy your game.” Quaeryt eased away, watching Baelthm, who leaned against the stable wall. The older man was watching … something. After several moments he could make out birds in a tree-a false olive with its silver gray leaves. He shook his head, remembering when, as a boy, he tried to eat one of the hard green false olives … and the bitter taste it had left in his mouth. He could see that the birds were young robins, trying to avoid the sharp thorns in getting to the fruit.
Baelthm looked from the tree to Quaeryt. “There’s a place for everything in the world. The robins love the false olives, and they’ll risk the thorns to get to them.”
Quaeryt nodded. “Sometimes, finding that place is hard.”
“That’s life, sir.” The older undercaptain smiled.
Quaeryt moved on, toward the end of the stable, where Voltyr stood alone, looking through a gap between houses at the River Aluse. He turned as Quaeryt neared.
“Good evening, Voltyr.”
“Good evening, sir.”
“You have a pensive expression. What are you pondering on a night like this?”
“How you schemed to get Bhayar to send you to Tilbor, and how I am now an undercaptain in a war when I once thought that the greatest danger in life was scheming High Holders and jealous functionaries and scholars in Solis.”
“You’re suggesting a connection?”
“It’s more than a suggestion.” Voltyr looked directly at Quaeryt. “Sir … how many Bovarian archers did we kill?”
“You imagers, you mean? Twenty or so, I imagine.”
“Ah … sir … I was talking to Undercaptain Jusaph. He heard that it was thirty-one. I wondered about that. I talked to the other undercaptains and counted up what each of us did. It came to eighteen, and none of the troopers killed any.”
“And?” asked Quaeryt mildly.
“Others might also be able to count, sir, and come to certain conclusions.”
“That’s possible, but I’d like that to take as long as possible.”
“Might I ask why, sir?”
