Imager’s Battalion

had the feeling that the norther had stronger innate imaging capabilities.

By Meredi evening, Quaeryt had exhausted them all, as well as himself, and he slept soundly, even on the uneven plank floor of the small cot.

Jeudi morning saw Fifth Battalion and the three regiments on the old stone road once more. Skarpa alternated riding with his senior officers, beginning with Khaern, since Eleventh Regiment led the column, and then Quaeryt, because Fifth Battalion was next.

“What have the scouts found?” asked Quaeryt as soon as Skarpa joined him.

“So far, there’s still no sign of any Bovarian forces nearby. No tracks at all.”

“They could have come downriver by boat.”

“They could scout that way, but you can’t see much from the river, and once they set foot on shore, they’ll leave tracks. How are your new imagers coming?”

“They’re solid, but they need training and experience. I did get in some extra training yesterday. That was helpful, even if I suspect the marshal didn’t like the delay.”

“He might not, but one of the old armsmen’s sayings is ‘Don’t fight two enemies at once.’” Skarpa offered a short barked laugh. “I’m not about to try to fight the weather and the Bovarians at the same time. I’d wager he didn’t, either.”

No, but Deucalon’s the type to claim you could because you’ve got fewer men to lead.

“If the maps and the millestones are accurate, we’re about fifteen milles short of the outskirts of Nordeau,” Skarpa went on. “I have the scouts looking for places to stay tonight … or longer. That depends on what the defenses look like. And whether we get more rain. Sky’s clear now, but you never can tell once you get past midharvest.”

Quaeryt adjusted his cap and blotted his forehead. The clear sky and blazing sun suggested to him that Vendrei would also be hot and without rain.

“If they’ve got stone walls, can your imagers pull them down or put gaps in them?”

“A few might be able to create gaps. With stone, they’d be narrow. It might be easier to destroy the gates or build earth ramps up the lower walls. I’d have to see the walls before I could say.”

“What about Antiagon Fire?”

“We’ve been working on dealing with that in a number of ways.”

“You’re sounding more and more like Meinyt. You don’t talk the same, but you’re like every other experienced commander. You don’t like to promise anything.”

“That’s because I have the feeling that the Bovarians are going to spring some surprises, probably some here, and then a lot more as we near Variana. Don’t you?”

“I’ve been expecting more than we’ve seen,” Skarpa admitted. “Why do you think they haven’t shown more?”

“Because Rex Kharst underestimated Lord Bhayar. I have the feeling he thought Bhayar was a weak successor to his father, and that the revolt in Tilbor proved that. Kharst may have thought he could take Ferravyl and then slowly carve out chunks of western Telaryn. When he lost most of his army in eastern Bovaria and Bhayar attacked, all he could do was withdraw slowly while he called in troops from everywhere else. At some point, we’re going to encounter more troops than we have.” A whole lot more.

“I’ve thought something like that myself.”

“Has Deucalon?”

“I hinted at it. He dismissed what I said, but he thinks the same thing.”

“You think that’s because he doesn’t want to admit that a junior commander came up with the same thought?” Or because he wonders if I came up with it?

“Might be. Also might be because he doesn’t have any proof.”

“If we’re right,” said Quaeryt dryly, “we’ll get the proof when we find forty Bovarian regiments facing us at Variana.”

“I’ve had a similar thought about that, too.”

Quaeryt just nodded.

After discussing possible tactics for another quint, Skarpa eased his mount off the road and onto the shoulder, riding back to talk to Meinyt.

At a quint or so past the first glass of the afternoon, with the sun beating down as if it were still midsummer, as Quaeryt rode around a sweeping turn to the northwest, to his right he caught sight of a shimmering straight line running westward from the River Aluse, roughly paralleling it, bounded by darker gray, and then by trees on the northern side. The road turned due west just south of where the canal entered the River Aluse, with stone walls rising from the river. The ancient road continued beside the canal as far as Quaeryt could see. Unlike the first canal Quaeryt had encountered, though, the water in the canal was shallow and stagnant, and in less than a half mile from where the canal ended at the river, the shallow water became a marsh. After another half mille, the marsh turned to swampy grassland between the gray stone walls.

Ahead to the left was a small hamlet of a score or so small dwellings and outbuildings, with fields and woods alternating in an irregular pattern, much as had been the case for most of the ride that day. Narrow paths wound in and around both fields and woods, and the fields were marked off by sagging split-rail fencing. Once again, Quaeryt realized that they had seen no high holdings. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any around, just that they’re not along the river road. Given that the road was excellent, he couldn’t help but wonder why High Holders had not positioned themselves close to it.

Another two glasses passed, with one short break. The road and the dry grassy canal continued westward together. Quaeryt checked his map, and then had Zhelan, now riding beside him, check as well, thinking that they must be within ten milles of Nordeau and wondering when and where Skarpa would call a halt for the evening.

Less than a quint later, a squad leader came riding back along the shoulder, then eased in beside Quaeryt. “Subcommander, sir, Commander Skarpa has requested that you and Fifth Battalion make your encampment in the second hamlet ahead. The first one is larger, and that will be for Fifth Regiment. The smaller one is about a mille ahead.”

“What about the other regiments? Do you know?”

“There’s a village not quite a mille south of the hamlet where Fifth Battalion will be, and another just to the west of you. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I need to tell Subcommander Meinyt.”

“Don’t let me keep you.” Quaeryt gestured for the squad leader to depart.

With a nod, the trooper pulled out and headed down the shoulder.

Quaeryt turned to Zhelan. “If you’d pass word to the company officers?”

“Yes, sir.”

Before long, Fifth Battalion neared the first hamlet mentioned by the squad leader, a gathering of close to forty dwellings and more than a few outbuildings, one or two of which looked to be large and solid. All the dwellings and buildings were of timber, much of it unpainted or stained so long ago that the wood had grayed to the shade of untreated and weathered wood. A few wisps of smoke rose from some of the chimneys, but it was clear the villagers had fled.

Zhelan, again riding beside Quaeryt, shook his head. “Poor folks. Don’t even know what it’s all about. Just hope that we leave them something.”

“We’ve left more than Kharst’s men have.”

“Just hope we haven’t ended up leaving it for them.”

So did Quaeryt.

Another quint brought Quaeryt and Fifth Battalion to the smallest hamlet-the one assigned to Fifth Battalion. It looked to be far older than the hamlet Meinyt’s regiment was doubtless already occupying. As Zhelan directed the companies, Quaeryt remained mounted, half watching as Third Regiment rode by on the old stone road. When they had passed, Quaeryt took a moment and crossed the road to take a look at the narrow, grass-filled canal that still seemed to him that it once had led to Nordeau. He frowned. The stone walls ended less than half a mille west of the hamlet. Beyond that point, a low swale continued westward in a straight line, but there was no sign of stonework.

Someone must have mined the canal for stone. But who? And why?

With that thought in mind, he rode back across the road and toward the large center cot, where Zhelan had