Imager’s Battalion

been delayed before. It’s probably one of those onetime foul-ups, he told himself. Besides, who would care about a personal letter of that nature? He lifted her letter again, then stopped. He still didn’t like the time the letter had taken in reaching him, especially when she had used official dispatch riders. But who would delay it? Bhayar might read it, but he certainly wouldn’t have held on to it for weeks.

Finally, he continued reading.

… and they felt deserted. We did not eat away from the mess. Without you, I would not have felt secure, although my dreams have not been disturbed.

Quaeryt nodded at that intimation that she’d had no more farsight flashes.

So much has changed, it seems to me, but as a mere woman, I cannot say whether my feelings are a result of my lack of experience in the wider world or because we are living in a time that foreshadows great change. From the little I have seen, I do believe that those with power are reluctant to relinquish it, and more so when their power derives from another than from their own position or ability. There is none so vindictive as a vengeful assistant who believes one of greater ability has attained position through familial ties, and who will not believe that those in power who have great ability demand more of those with whom they share family than those who are less familiar …

Deucalon, Myskyl? Too many men fit the description of a vengeful assistant, but perhaps another letter would reveal more.

He kept reading through the more cheerful observations about the pleasant weather and her desire to see her brother’s wife, and at the end, he realized that she had mentioned no one related to her by name, nor did her letter bear any identification except a single “V” at the bottom, below the words “all my love.”

Abruptly he realized that it was almost fifth glass and that the officers’ mess was about to begin below in the public room of the inn. He folded up the three letters and slipped them into his personal dispatch case, the one that had accompanied him all the way from Solis, through shipwreck and worse. He could barely fit them in, given Vaelora’s other letters and that the case was far from large. He eased the case back into his kit and then hurried from his chamber down the steps to the main level.

42

Vendrei came and went, leaving a cloud-covered sky that promised a downpour on Samedi, but ended up only offering scattered showers. Quaeryt found a waterproof and took a squad from Major Arion’s company and rode west to inspect and study the Bovarian defenses surrounding Villerive. Unlike the other river towns, there were neither swamps, marshes, nor forests blocking the approaches to the city on the south side of the River Aluse. In fact, the southern section of Villerive, located on largely flat and slightly raised ground, did not appear that much larger than Caernyn. It was encircled by a recently constructed set of earthworks that extended little more than a mille from one end to the other. Still, an earthen berm nearly two yards high suggested considerable effort, and several score catapults behind it implied the strong possibility of Antiagon Fire. The level ground made the danger from muskets, and possible hidden pits, greater as well. Yet the sheer openness of the approach made Quaeryt question why Kharst had chosen Villerive as a position to hold. When he returned to Ralaes, he and Meinyt discussed the defenses with Skarpa, but none of them had been able to discern what else lay behind that recently constructed berm.

The intermittent rain stopped sometime on Samedi night so that by the time Quaeryt finished breakfast on Solayi and headed to the onetime plaques room in the inn to meet with Skarpa and Meinyt, the clear sky and warmth promised a steamy day.

Meinyt was already in the plaques room. Skarpa was not.

The older subcommander looked to Quaeryt. “Wager we’ll attack Villerive tomorrow. The commander looks worried, and that ass-saving bastard Deucalon will want things as easy as possible for his troopers.”

“So we attack first, and Deucalon holds back. The Bovarians move more reinforcements across the bridge to stop us, and then Deucalon attacks?”

“Something like that.” Meinyt fingered his chin. “Hope your imagers can do what they’ve done before.”

Quaeryt smiled wryly. “We’ll need to do more.” Not that you know exactly what more to do, since the Bovarians have remained holed up behind their earthworks.

“You will indeed,” said Skarpa, closing the door behind himself and motioning to the chairs around the battered dark oak table. “We’re to attack tomorrow. Marshal Deucalon has not ordered or suggested a specific plan for us. He has ordered us to make a strong enough push to fully occupy the Bovarians.”

Meinyt glanced sideways at Quaeryt, with an “I told you so” look.

“You both have studied the maps and the defenses. Does either of you have any other thoughts? Any concerns?”

Who wouldn’t have concerns? Still, there was nothing he could do about them. Quaeryt shook his head.

Meinyt frowned. “They’ve only got earthworks, so far as I can see.”

“You’re wondering why they’re picking a city that’s not walled?” asked Skarpa.

“It had occurred to me, sir.”

“When was the last time anyone managed to make an attack more than two hundred milles inside Bovaria? For that matter, are there any walled cities in Telaryn except Ferravyl?”

Quaeryt did not mention that some of the older towns, such as Cloisonyt and Montagne, had vestiges of ancient walls remaining.

“Kharst didn’t ever anticipate an attack this far inside Bovaria,” said Skarpa. “And you can’t build stone walls overnight … not even with imagers. Anything else?”

Both subcommanders shook their heads.

“Then we’ll proceed as planned, with each regiment and Fifth Battalion assaulting a different stretch of earthworks so that the defenders can’t concentrate their forces. I’ve already sent a dispatch. Deucalon’s just a few milles east of us on the other side of the river. We’ve got courier boats to cross now.” Skarpa glanced at Quaeryt. “I imagine there will be space for a few private dispatches.”

“Thank you.”

“There is one other matter.”

Quaeryt caught the twinkle in the commander’s eyes. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d appreciate it if you would consider…”

“… conducting services this evening?” finished Quaeryt.

Skarpa nodded.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“You always do. Still say you’re the best chorister I’ve ever heard.”

After leaving Skarpa, Quaeryt returned to his small chamber in the inn, where he quickly read over the letter he had written the night before, especially one section …

After we took Ralaes, we discovered once more the methods by which Rex Kharst enforces control over his High Holders. Commander Skarpa summoned a meeting of senior officers, and as we began, assassins with small crossbows attacked the officers. Through sheer chance … none of our commanders or subcommanders were injured, and we captured two of the assassins. We discovered from them that Kharst maintains several companies of such assassins and that one of their duties is to deal with recalcitrant High Holders. While it is clear that any successful ruler must find a way to maintain order and control over High Holders, it would strike me that a quieter and more subtle form of control might be better suited to a ruler, and that perhaps one that incorporated knowledge and persuasion, leaving a quiet but completely effective force as a last resort … Those problems, if they should exist at all, are in the future. Before long we will be facing the Bovarian forces at Villerive …

He nodded. That would have to do. He added a few sentences of affection and concern, then sealed it and tucked it inside his uniform before heading downstairs. After locating the dispatch orderly, he handed over the letter and a silver, then went to meet with Zhelan.