That worried Quaeryt, and he reined up short of the lead dray horse in the team, then turned to Alusyk as he neared. “We need to drag the wagon off the bridge and do it quickly. As quickly as possible.”
“That will likely break the wheel and splinter the axle. That might damage the goods. I’d like to know what’s in the wagon. He didn’t want us any too close.”
One of the teamsters in the first waiting wagon volunteered to help, by taking the traces of the damaged wagon. Several others came forward, and with extra ropes and three other horses, they managed to drag the wagon with the working front wheels and two collapsed rear ones forward over the bridge whose timbers flexed more than Quaeryt would have liked and down onto the east side and then onto the shoulder.
“Unfasten the horses from the traces,” Alusyk ordered the four troopers who had helped move the wagon. The other five held the mounts, including Quaeryt’s mare.
Quaeryt looked from the wagon downstream toward where the Myal joined the Aluse, but he saw no sign of the swimmers. Then he looked back toward the wagon.
The captain walked around to the back of the wagon and opened the loading door. He looked inside. “They were carrying elveweed. I think it is anyway. Probably coming from the marshes around the Sud Swamp. The so- called spice factors in Ruile harvest it and sell it where they can.”
Quaeryt wondered if some of the elveweed had been destined for Hyleor in Extela.
“Why would they try to stand up against us when they knew a regiment was coming?” asked Alusyk. “Just for elveweed.”
“There are golds in elveweed,” said Quaeryt dryly.
“Smells like something burned here.” Alusyk bent over and lifted a bundle of the elveweed. He sneezed, once and then again. “Something under here … a steel plate.”
“Get out of there. Run!” Quaeryt turned and sprinted toward the bridge.
WHUMPP!
Quaeryt felt himself being flung toward the river. Then he felt nothing.
* * *
Out of the darkness … there was dampness on his face. Quaeryt realized he was lying on his back looking up at scattered gray and white clouds. Between two of the clouds, he saw the partial disc of Artiema, barely visible in the bright sky. A trooper who had been kneeling beside him with a damp cloth in his hand rose and stepped back.
“Scholar … can you hear me?”
Quaeryt recognized Skarpa’s voice, and he turned his head. Waves of dizziness washed over him, but receded. “I can hear you. See you, too.” After a moment, he asked, “What about Alusyk? The others?”
“How are you?” asked Skarpa.
Quaeryt wiggled his fingers. They all seemed to move. So did his toes. He moved his arms, then his legs, then rolled onto his side. He felt dull throbbing in places all over his body, but everything seemed to work as he slowly worked himself to a sitting position. “I don’t think anything’s broken. I ache all over.” He paused. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Alusyk’s dead. The wagon exploded. Something from the explosion crushed his skull. Two of the troopers are dead, and one has a broken leg. Another has gashes. Most of the blast went down. Dug a big crater in the shoulder of the road, and cracked the paving stones on that side.”
“That’s what it was supposed to do.”
“Do what?”
“Blast through the center of the bridge and destroy or damage the center pylon so that it would take time to replace … or for us to find another way over the river.”
“How did you know?” asked Skarpa. “Why didn’t you warn the others sooner?”
“I didn’t know. Not exactly. There were too many things that didn’t feel right. I couldn’t figure out why a wheel would break exactly in the middle of the bridge … or the archers … but when Alusyk said it smelled like something burned and there was a steel plate … Then I knew and I yelled for him to run. I’d wondered about all of the teamsters swimming away, too … How many teamsters swim?” Quaeryt slowly stood. “You said something about this being the last large river between here and Ferravyl, but that means it’s the closest to Bovaria. The elveweed was for show, to explain the extra guards.”
“That means Kharst is about to mount an attack … if he hasn’t already.”
Quaeryt thought about nodding, then, given the way he felt, decided against any such motion and said, “I’d wager on it.”
“Are you able to ride, or should I have one of the wagons pick you up?”
“I’ll ride.” Quaeryt knew from experience that riding was easier than bouncing on a hard wooden wagon seat. “What about the teamsters?”
“I told the ones that were still here to cross the bridge and wait at the next turnout.” Skarpa turned and strode toward his mount.
Quaeryt followed, his steps far less vigorous as he made his way to where a trooper held the mare.
63
Despite Skarpa’s misgivings, Third Tilboran Regiment approached the east side of Ferravyl just before second glass on Meredi. By then, Quaeryt’s dizziness had subsided, but his stiffness and soreness remained, so much so that he felt like a creaky old man whenever he mounted or dismounted, although he did his best not to show his discomfort. As they neared the city, and as small mean steads gave way to crowded huts and houses, Quaeryt found the air hazy and his eyes burning ever so slightly.
A major Quaeryt didn’t recognize was waiting with a squad of troopers on the river side of a set of ancient stone posts flanking the point where the stone-paved highway narrowed into the brick pavement of the city.
“Commander Skarpa!”
Skarpa did not halt the column, but motioned for the major to ride up beside him.
“Major Lewyn, sir. I’m attached to Fourth Telaryn, detailed to Marshal Deucalon’s staff. You and Subcommander Scholar Quaeryt are to join Lord Bhayar immediately at headquarters. Your regiment has been assigned to North Post…”
Quaeryt missed a few words as he considered what the major had said.
“… and would like you to have your men proceed there immediately. You’ll rejoin them within a glass or two. Lord Bhayar wanted me to convey that as well.”
“The beginning of the north river road isn’t that far from the main post,” Skarpa said. “Why didn’t you just wait there?”
“I was ordered out here so that you wouldn’t have to be away from the regiment for long, sir. The Bovarians could attack at any time.”
Skarpa turned in the saddle. “Major Meinyt to the fore! Pass it back!”
Quaeryt almost smiled. Meinyt was only riding a few yards behind them, at the head of Third Battalion, and within moments, the grizzled major pulled up beside Skarpa, easing between the commander and Major Lewyn, as if the headquarters major were insignificant.
“Yes, sir?”
“Major Meinyt, you’re acting commander until my return.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lewyn glanced from Meinyt and back to Skarpa, but said nothing as Meinyt dropped back slightly, allowing Skarpa and Quaeryt to move out at a fast trot, leaving Major Lewyn and his troopers momentarily behind.
Lewyn had to urge his mount almost to a canter to catch up. “I didn’t expect … You didn’t give any instructions…”
“You said time was important, Major. You wonder why I said nothing more,” said Skarpa. “Because I don’t
