Princeps

“They only look impossible. No one else is stupid enough to try them, and sooner or later, I’m going to attempt something that is truly impossible … and men will be hurt and die.” In retrospect, politically some of what he’d attempted in Extela had also been impossible … and he and Vaelora had paid the consequences.

“You worry about that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s also the mark of a good officer. Good officers always push their officers and men beyond what seems possible, but they never stop worrying about the costs to those they lead. Sometimes, they push too far. It happens. But I’ve seen, and heard, about how many more men are lost through excessive caution. If you lead a regiment through three hard-fought battles and push through to victory, and lose a third of your force, ministers in the capital will claim you’re a terrible commander. Yet they’ll praise a commander who only loses a hundred or so men in ten smaller battles, and never realize that he’s lost half his force. Lord Chayar understood that. I can only hope his son does as well.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Do you really know? His replacing you in Extela doesn’t fit what Skarpa would like, but political battles aren’t the same as military ones. That he’d discovered as governor. But will there be other political constraints that will cause the same kinds of problems in the end?

Quaeryt didn’t have an answer to his own question. Only time and events would answer it. “Bhayar said that the Bovarians had at least six regiments around Ferravyl. Does anyone really know?”

“We fought half a regiment up north and two down here. Seems to me that Kharst wouldn’t have sent two up the Vyl with only four left to try to take the city. I’d wager on eight.”

Quaeryt nodded. “So would I.”

“And I’d not be surprised if we don’t see them right soon, late this afternoon, certainly by tomorrow. They’d want to attack before we got back and before Bhayar gets all the other troops from the east.”

“How many more has he called in?”

“I don’t know. Deucalon and Myksyl wouldn’t say. If he stripped all the garrisons, I’d judge another eight regiments. Maybe ten. They say he started building regiments as soon as he left Tilbor at Year-Turn.”

That was something Quaeryt hadn’t heard.

“Right now … we need to worry about dealing with the Bovarians with what we’ve got.”

Quaeryt couldn’t argue with that, either.

76

At less than a quint past ninth glass Quaeryt caught sight of a Telaryn courier, flanked by two rankers, riding hard toward Third Regiment. The three were not riding down the road, but approaching through the plots of small growers from the northeast.

Skarpa looked to Quaeryt. “Thought something like this might happen.”

“I said I wouldn’t wager against you.” Quaeryt blotted his forehead, then glanced northward. The heavy gray clouds had moved far enough south that they covered more than a third of the sky, but had not reached the sun, and the air felt damper and more muggy than ever. He looked at the approaching riders again. “That’s an undercaptain.”

“Frig!” muttered Skarpa. “More trouble. Sow’s belly worth and more.” He did not slow the regiment, but waved for the undercaptain to join them.

The junior officer eased his mount up beside Skarpa. “Commander, sir … Marshal Deucalon requests that you move forward with deliberate speed. There are six or seven Bovarian regiments about to attack.” He handed Skarpa what looked to be a quickly sketched map. “You can see here, sir. Submarshal Myskyl is holding the approach to the bridge with two regiments. Marshal Deucalon holds this ridge with three regiments. The Bovarians have a regiment or more on the triangle, but their main body is to the south of Marshal Deucalon’s force. Your attack on the rear of the main Bovarian force would trap them between you and Marshal Deucalon.”

“Where is Commander Pulaskyr?” asked Skarpa, passing the map to Quaeryt.

“Commander Pulaskyr and Commander Claeph are engaged to the north against several other Bovarian regiments.”

Skarpa almost uttered something, then clamped his mouth shut.

Quaeryt scanned the map. He could guess what had happened. Deucalon had learned of the approach of the Bovarian main body from the south, and had positioned his main force on the ridge a mille south of the bridge, so as to hold the higher ground. He’d left Myskyl and two regiments as a rear guard at the bridge, but once Deucalon had moved to the ridge, somehow the Bovarians had barged troops across the Vyl onto the triangle. If Deucalon moved against the Bovarian main body, that would allow the Bovarians on the triangle to use the river road to attack Myskyl and threaten the bridge and city. Myskyl couldn’t move to reinforce Deucalon-or to attack the Bovarians on the triangle without abandoning the bridge approach, and it appeared that the Bovarians might have enough troops in the main body to split out and send a regiment or more east and then due north to take the bridge. Also the Bovarians on the triangle had the option of attacking Deucalon’s rear.

Was the use of all the barges against the bridge also to give the impression that Kharst didn’t have enough left to carry troops over the Vyl? After a moment Quaeryt answered himself. More than likely.

Quaeryt could see why Skarpa had wanted to swear … and then some.

“How far are we from the rear of the Bovarians?” asked the commander.

“Near-on a mille and a half. They’re just beyond that low rise.”

“So they likely can already see us?”

“Most likely, sir.”

“Tell the marshal that we’ll do what we can,” Skarpa finally said.

“Yes, sir. I’ll convey that.”

Once the undercaptain headed back northeast, Skarpa turned in the saddle to Quaeryt. “I know what I think. What about you?”

“Deucalon has to be outnumbered,” Quaeryt said. “If we just attack the rear of the Bovarians, we’ll be swallowed.”

“And?”

“If we attack from the road, and we’re unsuccessful, we’ll have very few places to go. If by some chance we are successful in moving them, they can just head east and around Deucalon toward the bridge.”

Skarpa nodded. “So we’ll have to trample lanes and maybe the fields of all these poor growers to avoid getting trampled ourselves. We’ll have to leave a couple of squads with the riding wounded to guard the prisoners and their wounded, too. Hate doing that, but there’s no help for it.” He shook his head. “Might as well get on with it.” He rode forward to the lead squad, Quaeryt following him, and shortly, the entire regiment was moving down a lane heading east-northeast, with scouts spreading out to the north and east.

“Can you and the imagers do anything to get us closer … the way…”

Quaeryt rode without speaking for several moments. What could you get Shaelyt and Desyrk to do that would help so that the Bovarians wouldn’t see … or wouldn’t see clearly? He considered, then nodded.

“They can probably see us right now,” replied Quaeryt. “If we can pass by a woods or even a woodlot where they can’t see us for a bit, they might lose sight of us.”

“Might lose sight?” Skarpa raised his eyebrows.

“Might lose sight,” Quaeryt repeated flatly. “There’s also something else that might work, but I’ll need to talk to Shaelyt and Desyrk.”

The commander nodded.

Quaeryt eased the mare out to the side and then back to where the two undercaptains rode.

“Sir?”

“We’re going to have to attack the rear flank”-except it may not be the rear when we get there-“of a large Bovarian force. I’d like you two to try something when we’re not too far away from