The squad leader did not cross that invisible perimeter, but motioned for Quaeryt to approach.
The scholar did, halting in the shade just under the canvas. “Sir, you requested my presence.”
“Have a seat, scholar.” Rescalyn pointed to the middle chair.
Quaeryt took it and waited.
“You’ve seen the flooding to the west, I take it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The last skirmish was hardly over, and a messenger from High Holder Dymaetyn arrived. He blames me- oh, it was far more politely worded than that-for the destruction of valuable lands. How do you think Lord Bhayar would expect me to reply?”
“Sir, I have no instructions to give you. Lord Bhayar asked me to observe you as an example of a good governor.”
Rescalyn laughed. “You are persistently consistent, scholar. Then, in your own capacity as a scholar, how would you suggest that I respond?”
“I would express concern for the damage, but note that the problems created by the hill holders long predate your tenure as governor and stretch back well into the reigns of the Khanars. You might also observe that, had the Khanars and the High Holders of the past been more willing to deal firmly with the hill holders, such recent events as the flooding might never have come about. Then you could note that, since harvest is over and it appears that his lands have indeed been harvested, additional moisture should only be beneficial for most of them, provided, of course, that the dams, streams, and levees are returned to their previous courses prior to the onset of winter. That will require some effort, but certainly not so much as that which you are making on behalf of both Lord Bhayar and Telaryn to permanently resolve a problem that should have been dealt with generations back.”
“Just on behalf of Telaryn, I’d think,” mused Rescalyn, before saying, “Go on.”
“If you wish to be conciliatory, you might offer the expertise of some of your engineers in helping develop the work plans for his efforts at restoration.”
“He won’t like that.” Rescalyn’s voice was heartily bland.
“He won’t like anything except having you and your men repair everything and then pay him compensation. If you do that-”
“Then every last one of them will want the same. I can see that. In fact, what you suggested follows closely what I already wrote. I do like the offer of a few engineers to assist him in planning. That way, he can’t say we did nothing at all … and all of them complain that we don’t do enough. There’s nothing new about that.” Rescalyn fingered his chin.
Quaeryt waited.
“How are you finding Sixth Battalion?”
“I’m working to observe and help and not interfere.”
Rescalyn rose. “Good. That’s all.”
Quaeryt stood immediately. “Yes, sir.” He nodded politely, then turned and left.
The more Quaeryt met with Rescalyn, the less he trusted the man-or his motives. And the one comment Rescalyn had made about “on behalf of Telaryn” reminded Quaeryt, again, that he’d never heard the governor speak of Bhayar … and that went along with the slight dig in his speech about no one in Telaryn knowing what the officers and men had done.
80
By early Jeudi afternoon, Quaeryt understood all too well what Rescalyn had in mind for the timber fort. The engineers set up portable bombards, just out of bow range, and used them to hurl crocks of burning bitumen at the palisade walls as well as within. In less than two glasses everything was aflame. A good many of the defenders escaped by running into and through the waters and swamps they had created. Almost as many ran into Seventh Battalion and did not survive.
Even those who reached the immediate safety of the watercourses and swamps might not live all that long, Quaeryt knew, since stagnant waters held their own dangers, from whitemouth snakes to the bloody flux. When full night fell, the site of the palisade still glowed in the darkness, and the smell of burning wood and other less pleasant odors filled the valley and even drifted as far eastward as the regimental camp. Quaeryt wondered if the hill holders understood what Rescalyn intended for them.
He doubted it, and, in a way, that bothered him as well, because they were plaques in the governor’s game and had no idea how they were being played. Yet, at the moment, it was too early for Quaeryt to act, especially since he still needed to survive the coming battles, or skirmishes, as Rescalyn called them. Besides, from what he’d experienced, he had little love for the hill holders, who seemed to think that they could do whatever they wanted with comparatively few repercussions.
For whatever reason, possibly simply sheer exhaustion, Quaeryt did sleep better on Jeudi night, and, true to his words, Rescalyn had the regiment on the road well before sunrise on Vendrei.
Once they reached the valley floor, they stayed on the main road for close to three milles before heading southward on a dirt lane that, in turn, led to another lane, that rejoined the road leading westward from Boralieu- the one that Quaeryt had ridden many times during his time at the post. While no one had actually said so, Quaeryt gained the impression that the regiment was headed directly toward Waerfyl’s hold.
Sixth Battalion formed the rear guard, following the supply wagons, which followed the engineering wagons. Rescalyn had given that position to the battalion, according to Skarpa, because Sixth Battalion had taken among the heaviest impacts of the fighting in the hills. Quaeryt had refrained from pointing out that the very first attack on the regiment had been on the rear guard.
Since he was concerned about his ability to carry heavy shields for any length of time, Quaeryt held the lightest of shields with trip points set to register any intrusion and strengthen his shields. Even so, he still worried, because every impact against the shields weakened him, and he’d seen enough to know that he needed shields to survive. He just wasn’t that good a warrior.
“I’ve been riding this road for years,” said Meinyt in a low voice. “Still looks different every time. It’s not just the light, either.”
“Trees grow and change,” suggested Quaeryt.
“More than that.”
Quaeryt had no answer. He just nodded.
Another glass or so passed, when the faintest patter alerted Quaeryt to the incoming volley, and he immediately flattened himself against the mare’s neck.
“From the right!” snapped Meinyt. “First and second squads!”
That didn’t include Quaeryt, but he didn’t see any point in staying on the road, not by himself. Because continuing alone would have made him an even more obvious target, he followed Meinyt across the yards of cleared ground flanking the road and toward the trees, keeping himself low on the mare, while trying to extract the half-staff from its leathers. He almost had it free when he entered the trees. In the predawn gloom, he thought he saw riders ahead, but he wasn’t certain.
He definitely heard another volley of arrows and quarrels, but none touched him or his shields. Just as he congratulated himself on that, a figure appeared ahead and to his left and hurled something at him-a large throwing ax. While his shields did stop the weapon, he could still feel the muted impact.
The astonishment of the hill raider froze him for a moment, long enough for Quaeryt to bring up the staff and catch the man at the juncture of arm and shoulder and fling him from the branch to the ground. Quaeryt kept moving, following Meinyt and keeping low until he heard the sound of the recall horn, when he eased in beside the captain, and the two trotted back to the road, without speaking.
As they cleared the trees, Meinyt turned. “You didn’t have to come with the squads.”
“It seemed like a better idea than staying on the road alone.”
