“Barges don’t have enough draft for it to matter,” said Deucalon. “There aren’t any shallows in the Narrows.”
“That’s true, but the current runs faster in the main channel.” Quaeryt understood Deucalon’s point, but from the marshal’s first words, the senior officer had annoyed him. “That affects how much time an imager has, and the main target will be the center pylon.”
“You think so, Subcommander?”
“If they can bring down the center pylon, that will make repair the most time-consuming and difficult. It will also allow them to sail past and make it most difficult for you to stop barges carrying troops or goods in the future.”
Before Deucalon could speak, Bhayar did. “The subcommander spent considerable time at sea, Marshal. He knows vessels as well as imagers and other scholarly matters.”
“Major Ghesal knows the channel. I’ll have him brief you.” Deucalon was not quite dismissive. He turned and gestured to an undercaptain. “Summon Major Ghesal.”
Quaeryt said quickly, “What I don’t know is how they will detonate the powder at the right time. Would the crew just light fuses, and dive overboard, with the tiller roped in place?”
“That’s most likely,” admitted Deucalon. “They’ve got small boats. We’ve seen some of them.”
“I take it that you have some other indications that a barge attack is likely,” Quaeryt offered politely.
“Our spies have reported that there are more than a score of heavy barges upstream. They are moderately laden, and their cargo is covered with oilcloth waterproofs. Also, brimstone has become extremely dear in recent months.” Bhayar smiled. “Last night there was a fire, and then an explosion on the Vyl, just upstream of where it joins the Aluse.”
“There are also reports of more than two regiments crossing the Vyl well to the south,” added Deucalon sourly. “There are four regiments on the west side of the Vyl.” He looked to Skarpa. “Once we determine what attack is most imminent, Third Regiment will be sent to block or delay the advance of the southernmost Bovarian forces. We’ll be leaving other regiments closer to the city until we know the disposition of the Bovarian troops.”
Skarpa merely acknowledged the situation. “Yes, sir. We’ll stand by.”
Deucalon half turned away, then turned back. “What do you plan, Subcommander?”
“I’ll bring the imagers here, and we’ll walk to the best position, depending on what the major tells me.”
“You can stable your mounts below,” Bhayar said quietly. “That way, they’ll be close at hand if you need to move.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Quaeryt waited until Deucalon was farther away. “I take it you don’t have much faith in the cannon.”
“I have great faith in the cannon. I have little faith in the cannoneers. There was no time to send word to Solis to obtain a truly experienced officer or squad leader. The cannon have been fired often enough, but not against moving targets.”
Quaeryt nodded. Bhayar had never built a navy, and there were only two Telaryn warships worthy of the name. “That’s why the cannon aren’t on the bridge itself?”
“Would you put powder and shell on the bridge?” asked Bhayar dryly.
Quaeryt didn’t need to reply to that question.
“I need to meet with the other commanders now,” Bhayar went on. “I’ll check with you later.” He turned and walked toward the steps down to the courtyard, accompanied by Deucalon, and followed by two undercaptains and a major, none of whom had said a word.
Quaeryt looked to Skarpa, then shrugged.
Skarpa grinned, and then the two headed for the steps.
At the bottom, the commander looked to Quaeryt. “Do you think what you plan will really work?”
“It will work,” predicted Quaeryt. “The question is whether it will work well enough.”
Skarpa laughed. “You’ve been with Meinyt too much. You sound more and more like a grizzled old major every day.”
“Better that than a young scholar.”
“You were never young. Inexperienced, maybe, but not young.”
Quaeryt wasn’t sure he agreed with Skarpa about that, especially after what he’d learned that he didn’t know in Extela, but he didn’t dispute the commander. Instead, he took the mare’s reins from the waiting ranker, and the two of them rode back to the regiment.
Less than a quint later, Quaeryt and the undercaptains were back in the same courtyard, turning their mounts over to the duty ostlers. After he dismounted, Quaeryt removed the cloth bag from his saddlebags and took it with him as he led them back up to the north parapet.
As Deucalon had promised, an officer was waiting.
“Subcommander, I’m Major Ghesal. Marshal Deucalon left word that you had some questions about the channel.”
“I do. If you’d tell me what you can and where it gets closest to either bank…”
“I’ll do what I can, sir. The rivers change some every day…”
Quaeryt listened as Ghesal explained, especially when he began to describe the flow closer to the bridge.
“… the Ferrean’s bigger and got a stronger flow, and so the channel’s more to the south after they meet, but all that water pushes off the stone there”-the major pointed-“and it swings back more toward the middle so that, just about opposite the west end of the parapet, it’s almost straight west of the isle pylon. There used to be more of an upstream point to the isle, but two years ago … think it was two, we had a hard winter, and the river froze there. When it thawed, a whole lot of rock crumbled into the Aluse. The west part of the isle ends no more than five, six yards west of the base of the pylon. It’s mostly underwater. It used to be ten, twelve…”
“So a barge could run up on the stone and hit the pylon?” asked Quaeryt.
“It’s possible. But the isle’s not much wider than the base of the pylon. Sharp enough to rip the bottom out of a boat. I saw that happen years back.”
Ripping the bottom out of a barge wasn’t going to do much to help the imagers, Quaeryt thought. That would just ground the barge right below the pylon.
Three rankers appeared with an array of poles and a roll of canvas. While the major continued with his explanations and answers to Quaeryt’s questions, the men assembled a framework at the back of the parapet and then tied the cloth to the top of the framework, creating an awning of sorts, similar to the one over the raised platform from which Bhayar had earlier observed the river.
The squad leader in charge eased his way over to Quaeryt. “That’s to give your officers shade, sir, while they wait.”
“Thank you.”
When the major finished, Quaeryt thanked him, waited until he departed, then turned to the imagers. “You may be wondering why I was asking about the river flows and the channels. It appears as though the Bovarians will mount at attack on the Narrows Bridge here. They’re bringing up troops from the south, and they will likely send barges filled with powder and iron or metal fragments downriver against the bridge itself. There are cannon positioned on the approach ways to the bridge. They will attempt to sink those barges at greater range.” As Quaeryt thought about it, he realized another reason why the imagers were necessary. Given the height of the approaches and the bridge itself, the cannon couldn’t be trained on the river close to the bridge itself. “Our task will be to stop as many of the barges that get past the cannon as possible.”
“Sir…” began Threkhyl.
Quaeryt looked hard at the undercaptain. “I’m not asking you to stop a barge. And putting holes in the barge likely won’t help much, because by the time a barge is close enough for you to do that, it will reach the bridge before it sinks. But … there is an imaging way of dealing with the barges.” He extracted one of the small pieces of iron from the bag he held, the larger needle-like fragment. “Most of you have seen a smith at work, have you not?”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply. Only Baelthm did not answer.
“Your task will be to image small pieces of iron into the kegs and bags of powder on the barges. But … you are to image them as red-hot, the way they would be if a smith had forged them.”
