Princeps

“Why not image a lit candle?” asked Akoryt.

“Because the powder would smother it before the flame could heat it. Haven’t you ever put out a candle with your fingertips? You do it quickly, and your fingers don’t even get warm. That’s what would happen to your lit candle. The powder will smother it. Red-hot iron will set off powder.”

“How do you know this?” asked Threkhyl.

“Because I tossed red-hot iron into powder,” replied Quaeryt. “I don’t advise standing close and doing that.”

There were no other questions.

A glass passed, and another, and Quaeryt and all the undercaptains were sweating, despite standing under the canvas awning. Finally, a ranker appeared with rations and water. Nearly another glass passed before Quaeryt saw a dark blotch on the water to the west, and then another one, and then more.

Bhayar and Deucalon knew more than they bothered to tell me. But then, he knew more than he’d chosen to tell them.

In less than two quints, more than a score of barges filled the river, each towed roughly to midriver by boats powered by rowers. During that same time period, the crews manning the bridge winches had raised the nets so that they were a good six or seven yards above the water.

As the current carried the barges downriver, Quaeryt could see that in the stern of each barge was a raised platform with a man standing on it and a tiller to a long rudder. Both platforms and tillers had to have been added.

“Undercaptains! To the parapet!” Quaeryt ordered.

Once they had lined up, Quaeryt stood at the eastern end of the line they formed.

Bhayar appeared at Quaeryt’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I wonder how reliable those steersmen will be.”

Bhayar shrugged. “I imagine the men steering the barges have been paid extra golds, most likely at least partly in advance. I’d also judge that they will have to light a fuse and fasten the tiller in place and then jump overboard. I’d also wager that those who are successful, if they survive, will get more golds. Bovaria is a large land, and finding twenty men who will take great risks for golds is not impossible.”

“And paying large amounts to a few men is far cheaper than losing hundreds or thousands of men in an assault on fortifications,” added Quaeryt.

Bhayar nodded without speaking. After a moment he moved away, back to the raised stone platform in the middle of the parapet, where Deucalon remained, a sour expression on his face, with several undercaptains, captains, and majors flanking them.

Just as Major Ghesal had predicted, once the leading barge reached the point where the waters of the Ferrean joined the Aluse, the barge swung toward the southern side of the river, and after traveling more than a hundred yards, eased back toward the middle of the river.

Thwump!

The sound of the cannon jolted Quaeryt, but he looked to the river. The cannonball struck the water a good fifty yards aft of the first barge, and well short of the second one.

“… what are they aiming at?” demanded Threkhyl.

“… not as easy as you think,” murmured someone.

Desyrk, Quaeryt thought. “Don’t even try to image the iron into one of the barges until it’s abreast of us. Don’t all of you try to image into the same barge. Threkhyl … you take the first barge, but not until I give the order. Voltyr, you take the second, and Shaelyt, the third … If one of you is having trouble with a given barge, I’ll direct another imager to help.”

Two more cannon reports echoed between the stone walls of the Narrows, but neither shell was anywhere close to the first barge. Yet another shell splashed into the dark water short of the first barge, and another behind it. The next shell hit beside the barge, spraying a sheet of water over the front section, but apparently doing little damage.

Quaeryt studied the first barge as it neared a point even with the west end of the parapet. The steersman was lashing the tiller in position, and the barge looked to be positioned directly at the tiny stone isle from which the central pylon rose. Then he bent down for several moments, then dived off the rear of the barge. After a moment, he bobbed up and began to swim toward the south side of the river, awkwardly. Quaeryt noted two white ovals under each arm.

Bladders … filled with air. He returned his concentration to the first barge.

Right after it came abreast of the western end of the parapet where Quaeryt had stationed the imagers, Quaeryt ordered, “Threkhyl! The first barge! Image now.”

He watched as Threkhyl concentrated … and kept concentrating. Then, the oilcloth tarps covering the cargo area shivered … and exploded. Fragments flew everywhere, and spray and smoke obscured the spot where the barge had been. For several moments Quaeryt couldn’t determine how the barge had fared.

Then he saw that it had broken into two pieces, with the aft section clearly sinking, but the forward part remained floating, and a section appeared to be burning.

Bitumen-treated?

The cannoneers had shifted fire to the second and third barges, presumably the crew on one end of the bridge targeting one, and the crew on the other end aiming at the other.

While the next two barges weren’t that close together, Quaeryt worried because the remainder of the barges were far more closely clustered.

“Voltyr, take the second barge!” Quaeryt ordered.

Voltyr concentrated, but nothing happened-except that the cannoneers finally successfully targeted the third barge, which exploded in a hail of fire and fragments. Yet the second barge was already past the middle of the parapet, and the tillerman had fastened the rudder lever and bent to light the fuse. The Bovarian straightened and then jumped off the barge, heading toward the southern pier that rose out of comparatively shallow water. Even so, if the pier went …

Quaeryt imaged two small chunks of red-hot iron, and then a third.

A flash of light-headedness followed. Somehow imaging iron over water takes more effort. Another aspect of imaging that he hadn’t known or counted on.

He watched the second barge, then took a deep breath as it exploded-before he looked back upriver, only to see three more barges, almost abreast of each other, but separated enough that the explosion of one wouldn’t trigger the explosion of another. Gouts of water sprouted across the river, but none struck the next group of barges. Another round of shells was equally ineffective, except one cannonball struck close enough to the middle barge to send spray over the Bovarian guiding it.

“Shaelyt! Try for the barge on the far side.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Desyrk … the middle one, and Akoryt, the nearest to us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt turned to the oldest imager. Baelthm was actually shaking. “Don’t worry, the explosions won’t reach us here.” Not unless it’s a misaimed shell from our own cannon crews. “I want you to be ready to deal with any of the next barges that come close to this side of the river.”

“Can I try hot silver? Silver’s easier for me than iron.”

“You can certainly try it first. All I care about is getting metal hot enough to fire the powder.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt turned his attention to the raft of barges. The one closest to the bridge was the one nearest the south side of the river. He glanced to Shaelyt, intently looking out at the river, hopefully concentrating on the barge aimed at the far bridge pier. The tillerman had fastened the rudder and had stooped to light the fuse when the barge flared into light, flinging the body of the hapless Bovarian skyward and then into the river.

Shaelyt shivered, but straightened.

The cannoneers bracketed one of the barges farther upriver, and after several misses hit the craft with two shells and enough force that the steersman jumped from the stern and the barge began to sink … without exploding.

Desyrk’s face was drawn, but little shivers struck the oilcloth waterproof of the barge he’d been assigned.