Somehow … even as Skarpa’s assessment amused Quaeryt, it also bothered him.
“He said you’d say that, and his answer was that he needs Zhelan
All Quaeryt could do was shrug helplessly.
74
Jeudi morning found Quaeryt riding southward on the river road on the east side of the Vyl, its channel barely more than thirty yards across, if deep enough to make crossing a chancy business. Still, during the previous day, they’d seen no sign of any Bovarian forces, although they had moved slowly through small village after small village, some barely even hamlets, resting men and mounts frequently. Quaeryt had ended up bringing Shaelyt and Desyrk with him, and leaving the others, because Threkhyl was still the strongest imager; Voltyr had a head on his shoulders; Akoryt was limited in what he could do, but helpful; and Baelthm wouldn’t do well in a battle, anyway.
“I don’t see why they didn’t cross somewhere along here,” observed Quaeryt. “You could run cable across between two trees, one on each side, and hand over hand the men and harness the mounts and pull them over. That’s if you didn’t want to cross at a known ford.”
“But they didn’t,” Skarpa said.
“So the whole point of all of this is to split our forces again?”
“Yes. We don’t have a choice. Not really. If we don’t find them and slow them down-or stop them-then they could circle and catch our forces from the flank or behind.”
“So they weaken Bhayar’s forces one way or another.”
“That’s what they hope. But Third Regiment’s better than they think, and you and that overlarge company are worth close to another regiment.”
Quaeryt snorted. “You actually told Bhayar that I’d end up with you? You’re going to get in trouble, my friend, wagering on me.”
“That may be, but those who wagered on others fared far less well,” replied Skarpa with a cynical grin.
“A mere matter of chance.” And Quaeryt wasn’t even certain Skarpa was right. Certainly, anyone who had wagered on Quaeryt’s ability to remain as governor of Montagne would have lost … although Quaeryt was less and less certain he personally had lost, since governing was a thankless position and since he had learned more than he’d originally wanted to admit, especially about trying to avoid situations where the choice was between getting something done and making people with power happy.
“I think not.”
At that moment a scout appeared, riding back north on the river road toward the outriders and the vanguard that Skarpa and Quaeryt led.
“The scouts have found the Bovarians,” suggested Quaeryt.
Skarpa just nodded and raised an arm, gesturing for the scout to join him and ordering, “Column! Halt!” Then he rode out to the side.
Quaeryt followed.
The scout, a junior squad leader, reined up.
“What did you find?” asked Skarpa.
“The Bovarians are about two milles ahead,” began the scout. “That’s where those hills are. They’ve formed up in two positions. One regiment is on the south hill, in plain view. The other is on the back side of a hill north and east of there. The space between the northern hill and the river road is mostly fields. I think they’re bean fields. There aren’t any walls, but there are ditches on the west end of the fields … look to be mixed regiments, maybe half foot, half mounted…”
When the scout finished, Skarpa asked, “How far apart are the two regiments?”
“Close to half a mille. Could be a bit more, sir.”
“Did they see you?”
“We tried to be careful, but they might have. Didn’t see anyone moving, though.”
Skarpa frowned. “I want you to go take another look, but stay off the road and out of sight. We need to know if they’re holding those positions or getting ready to move.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll move up another bit, but take our time.”
Once the scout had turned and headed his mount back southward, Skarpa turned in the saddle and looked at Quaeryt. “What do you think?”
“What if you form up on the flat in those bean fields?” asked Quaeryt. “They’d have to leave the heights to engage you.”
“They won’t. The longer they can keep us occupied…”
“Exactly,” said Quaeryt. “But what would happen if they were attacked from the rear? From behind the hill they’re on?”
“They’d see anyone coming. They’d pull back to the hilltop and use the heights,” Skarpa said.
“I think there’s a way to get close enough so that they’re surprised. The attacking company could split off before you get in eyesight of the nearer regiment. What if you posted scouts, so that when the Bovarians are surprised, you know when to start up the west side of the hill. The regiment to the south would likely wait, wouldn’t they? Even if they didn’t, it would take them time to reach the hill, and you’d have the higher ground.”
“I’d be caught between two regiments.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because you’d still have the north side of the hill open to withdraw, if you have to.”
“And you’re going to be the one to make that hidden attack?”
“Well … I’m not very good at following other people’s orders…”
Skarpa shook his head. “You realize what will happen to me if you fail?”
“It won’t be any worse than what happens to me,” Quaeryt pointed out. “And you just said that the Bovarians would wait for days if we don’t attack.”
“You don’t have enough men to make that work. You need a battalion, at the very least.”
“See if Meinyt would support me.”
“He’d support you to the Namer’s door,” snorted Skarpa. “I don’t have to ask.”
What Quaeryt realized was that what Skarpa was also telling him, if indirectly, was that commanders had to know what their officers could and would do, and they had to know it without ever asking. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“You don’t learn everything in one campaign.”
At times, Quaeryt wondered if he’d ever learn near enough to survive the battles he kept getting caught in, let alone succeed in his long-term plans … plans that seemed further from realization than ever. And they’d seemed so simple back in Tilbor-just find a way to make life more secure for imagers and scholars.
“We’ll move up and rest everyone. While they’re resting, you and I and Meinyt can go over what you have in mind.”
What with one thing and another, it was close to midmorning when Quaeryt addressed the two imagers who had accompanied him. “Shaelyt, Desyrk, I want you to ride or stay just behind Commander Skarpa. Your orders are simple. Kill anyone who gets close enough to injure him. Don’t be fancy. Do whatever is easiest for you. If you know how, image pitricin into their brains…”
At that Shaelyt nodded, but Desyrk looked appalled.
“… or image a thin blade through their eyes. This isn’t honorable combat. It’s war, and we didn’t start it.”
With a nod, Quaeryt turned the mare and rode toward the rear of the column, where Meinyt and Zhelan had gathered their troops.
“We’re going to make a surprise attack on a Bovarian force that’s waiting to ambush the main body of Third Regiment.” Quaeryt looked to Zhelan, and then to the other company officers.
