“It’s some sort of trap.”
“There may be a few.” Quaeryt gestured to Desyrk. “Remove the lock, if you would.”
“Yes, sir.”
Desyrk studied the chain and lock. In moments, the lock was in two pieces, and one of the first company rankers stepped forward and unwound the old chain, then swung the gates open and outward.
“Undercaptain Threkhyl, forward. Image something heavy onto the paving stone just inside the gate.”
Despite a puzzled look, the ginger-haired undercaptain immediately replied, “Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt thought he could hear a grinding sound. “Another boulder, if you would.”
A second boulder appeared, next to the first, and abruptly the entire paved section of lane that had been swept collapsed, leaving a pit a yard deep.
Zhelan glanced to Quaeryt.
Quaeryt only nodded, then said, “Imagers forward.”
Once the undercaptains were lined up facing the open gate, he added, “I’d like that pit filled in solidly and the paving stones replaced. Undercaptain Voltyr, you coordinate the effort.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make certain it’s firm. You six will be the first to ride across it.”
Desyrk and Akoryt exchanged quick glances, but Voltyr only nodded, as if he’d expected nothing else. A faint smile flicked across Shaelyt’s lips. Once again, Threkhyl looked puzzled, if but for a moment.
The undercaptains took almost a quint to fill and repair the pit. All were sweating from the combined effort of imaging and the mugginess of the day by the time they finished, mounted, and rode to the far side-which remained solid.
Baelthm was pale, Quaeryt noted, and he called out, “All of you eat something … and get a drink from your water bottles.” He gestured to Zhelan. “Have the battalion follow … slowly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt rode forward and joined the imagers, then motioned for them to follow him and the two outriders along the lane toward the hold house. As they neared the main dwelling, he called back to Zhelan. “Leave the main house alone for now. We’ll start by looking for supplies.”
The outbuilding nearest the hold house was the stable. The two strap handles of the main doors were not chained, but fastened with heavy rope tied into a simple knot. Quaeryt reined up and looked to Ghaelyn. “Have your men untie the knot. Then have them find something they can use to push the stable doors open. When they do, have them stand back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt waited while the troopers followed his orders, then watched as they used weathered planks they’d found stacked in the rear of the stable to push open the doors. Nothing happened.
“Have them take the planks and wave them around inside the doors, and prod the ground there.”
Ghaelyn conveyed that order to the troopers, and the men began to wave and prod.
Abruptly heavy sacks filled with something crashed down onto the packed clay just inside the stable doors, followed by what looked to be a small anvil.
“It might not hurt to prod some more,” said Quaeryt.
More prodding resulted in no more objects falling.
“Now they can look inside … but carefully.”
“Yes, sir.” Ghaelyn raised his voice. “You heard the subcommander. Time to look for supplies, but watch where you put your heads, hands, and feet.”
Quaeryt and the imagers waited, along with the remainder of first company, and the other companies of Fifth Battalion. He also listened to the low murmurs among the imagers.
“… how does he know all that?… never been here…”
“… doesn’t trust anyone…”
“Would you, after what they did to that hamlet…?”
“… you think, Shaelyt … have that expression … again…”
“… subcommander is a child of Erion … the hunter makes his own wary…”
Quaeryt wasn’t so sure about that, or that he’d been wary enough in the past. He looked back to the stable doors as a squad leader walked out, dust on his sleeves, trousers, and boots.
“There’s nothing at all in the stables, sir … except … a few barrels of oats, and I’d not trust ’em, not with a dead rat lying beside ’em.”
“We’ll make a more thorough search later,” said Quaeryt.
The next outbuilding’s entrance was trapped in a fashion similar to the stables. Once inside, Quaeryt could see that it had held various crafts, and held a smithy, a woodworking shop, a chamber used for carding and spinning. The third structure was a storehouse.
When Quaeryt reined up, Zhelan eased his mount alongside. “Do you think the entrance to every building is trapped?”
“Yes … but not terribly well. Enough to hurt the unwary, though.”
“Why…?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Quaeryt said quietly. “I’d like to see more before I say much.”
Unlike the other outbuildings, the storeroom doors were of heavy, ironbound oak, and were double-chained and double-locked. Voltyr and Shaelyt imaged away the locks. Once more, when the troopers probed the space behind the door, there was a reaction. Except this time, what dropped down behind the door were two huge timbers, either one enough to crush a man to a pulp. More probing released a third timber.
Yet when the area behind the doors was cleared, the troopers reported that the space inside was empty.
Quaeryt dismounted. “I think I need to take a look here.”
Inside the stone-walled structure was a large open space, but on one side were several smaller rooms. All were empty. In the front west corner of the building Quaeryt found a trapdoor. Under it was a staircase. He had to wait another half quint for the troopers to find and light a torch before he could descend the stone ramp that lay beneath the door.
When he reached the lower level, it, too, appeared empty, except for the score or so of barrels stacked two high and deep against the rear wall of the lower level. He moved warily and held full shields, stopping short of the barrels.
“Pull out these barrels and stack them against the side wall.”
Between two barrels in the second row, those against the rear wall, lay a dead rat. Quaeryt nodded. Then he studied the rear wall. There was something about it. He looked up to the beams overhead. While the spacing was even, the braces for the long beams had been added later, and they did not look as if they actually were weight- bearing.
“Yes, sir.” Shaelyt stepped forward without hesitation.
In moments a square opening appeared in the wall, revealing that it was of wood, faced with limestone to make it appear identical to the foundation walls.
Shaelyt wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“Good. Thank you.” Quaeryt eased forward until he could see through the opening. On the other side of the false wall, he could see more barrels, perhaps hundreds, stacked three high. He couldn’t tell how deep. “We’ve found our supplies.”
Then he stepped back. “Desyrk and Akoryt, enlarge the opening so that someone can get inside and open the real door so that we can roll out the barrels.”
After Quaeryt was satisfied that Major Arion and fourth company could handle sorting and rolling the barrels from the lower level of the storehouse up to the ground floor, he sent Voltyr, Akoryt, Desyrk, and Baelthm-and third company-back to the stables to see if fodder or grain had been hidden somewhere behind false walls there. Then he inspected the last three outbuildings, all of which were little more than empty livestock sheds and barns. All held no traps, or none that he and the troopers could discover.
Finally, he rode back to the hold house with Threkhyl and first and second company.
Once there, he studied the dwelling, not so large as Fauxheld or some of the others, but clearly larger than
