Calkoran snorted. “He wishes to be the rex … or lord.”
“Not in name. Only in fact,” added Zhelan.
“Do they want to destroy all the imagers, sir?” asked Lhandor.
“Only those that would support Lord Bhayar,” replied Quaeryt. “I think that the submarshal understands that if there is no unified body of imagers, Bhayar will have to pay much greater heed to the marshal and submarshal.”
“So it’s all a trap to kill you, sir,” said Zhelan. “They set it up so that you’d be sent…” He paused, then frowned. “But how…?”
“Do you remember what Daefol said when I mentioned the new bridge?” asked Quaeryt.
“He said that … the submarshal had imagers. Wouldn’t you know about that?”
“If they were Telaryn imagers,” agreed Quaeryt. “We never did find Kharst’s imagers, the ones that survived.”
“You think they’ve thrown in with the submarshal?”
“It’s the only explanation I can think of.”
“Sir, you can’t just walk in there,” protested Khalis. “It’s a trap.”
“Then we’ll have to spring it without getting caught.”
“You’ll have to take first company,” insisted Zhelan. “The men will be safer. Myskyl wouldn’t have any compunction about killing a hundred Khellans.”
“Eighty-nine, now,” said Calkoran.
“We’ll all leave here tomorrow … early,” said Quaeryt. “Very early. Then we’ll find a woodland or the like where most of the companies can wait, but be ready to move as necessary.” If necessary.
Quaeryt went on to explain what he had in mind. He also hoped that whatever the kitchen fixed, it wouldn’t be unpalatable. His stomach was growling.
46
After sleeping on a makeshift straw pallet on Meredi night, Quaeryt was up early on Jeudi morning and making certain that both companies were out of Folan well before seventh glass. As the scouts had reported the day before, the west river road north from the hold was far better and, in less than a glass and a half, they had covered a good six milles, when the scouts Quaeryt had sent out earlier, accompanied by Lhandor, riding a spare mount, to provide concealment when necessary, returned to report.
Quaeryt did not call an immediate halt until they reached what was either a large woodlot or a less than well-managed hunting park, most likely not part of Fiancryt, where the troopers would be hidden from casual view. Then he gathered the imagers and the officers so they could hear what the scouts had found.
“How did it go?” asked Quaeryt.
The squad leader smiled. “Just as you thought, sir. When we went through the town … well, the west part of Rivages, no one even looked at us. The edge of the city proper is less than a half mille ahead. You can see that most of the city is on the east side of the river. Barely a town on this side. Not all that prosperous on this side, either. We rode past the bridge. The High Holder’s lands start, it looks like, another two milles north, and the gates are maybe a mille farther.”
“Did you see any patrols? Did they see you?”
“We saw two patrols heading out, sir, but the undercaptain did whatever hid us once we left the town proper area.” The scout turned to Lhandor.
“Yes, sir. I thought we could run into troopers anytime. So when we went into a shaded place where the trees shadowed the road, I raised a concealment. That way, anyone who might be watching would just think they lost us in the shadows.”
“Good thought. Tell us about Fiancryt.”
“It’s on the river. The road swings west a bit around the buildings and grounds. There’s a low stone wall around the whole hold house and all the outbuildings. Some of the parts of the wall look new. There are two iron gates off the river road. One looks to be for most folks. The gates are open, but there’s a full squad stationed right at the gate. There’s a trade gate, or maybe for supplies, south of the main gate. It’s chained and locked, but there are some guards there, too.”
“Is there a lane or road along the wall where it heads toward the river?” asked Quaeryt.
“More like a path, sir. We took it a ways. There aren’t any gates there, not even posterns.”
“Is there any other way into the grounds?”
“No, sir,” answered the squad leader. “Leastwise not from the paths or roads, not without climbing the wall, or by boat from the river.”
Quaeryt looked to Lhandor. “What do you think?”
“There are places, I think, where we could image a postern in place, one wide enough for a single mount and rider. Without too much effort. The wall is not that high or thick.”
“I like that idea,” replied Quaeryt with a laugh. After a moment he said, “You’d best get your own mount. We need to head out.”
“I can’t say as I like this, sir,” said Zhelan.
“We’ve been over this already,” replied Quaeryt. “I don’t like it any better than you do, but anything else is worse.”
“I know, sir. That’s why Ghaelyn will be commanding the four rankers accompanying you.”
“He’s the undercaptain,” said Quaeryt.
“He insists, sir. He says it has to be done right, and that means he wants to make sure it is. The only way that’s possible is if he’s there.”
Ghaelyn nodded and added, “Yes, sir.”
“Imager undercaptains,” said Quaeryt, “I appreciate your willingness to accompany me, but I want you to understand that I cannot order you to come with me.”
“You could, sir, and it would be within your rights and our duty,” replied Khalis with a broad grin, “but you won’t. That’s why we’re coming.” He looked to Lhandor and Elsior.
Both nodded.
“Besides … even if we hadn’t promised, we’d be coming,” added Lhandor, “because you have to succeed … or we’ll all end up dead or exiled.”
“Or like in Antiago,” added Elsior.
Quaeryt looked to Calkoran and Zhelan. “If we don’t come back or if Ghaelyn and the rankers come back alone, then you know what to do.”
“I don’t much care for that, either, sir, begging your pardon,” replied Zhelan.
“Neither do I,” replied Quaeryt, “but Lord Bhayar and Lady Vaelora need to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
With a quick gesture to Ghaelyn, Quaeryt said, “Let’s head out.”
After waiting for a mule cart to pass and get a good hundred yards away, headed north toward Rivages, presumably to market for something, the eight riders moved out from cover and onto the road, slightly covered by a blurring concealment that Quaeryt dropped once they were all on the road.
“Sir?” ventured Khalis, from where he rode beside Quaeryt.
“Yes?”
“I know you think that if … well, if your plan doesn’t work … that Lord Bhayar will need to deal with the marshal and submarshal in order to hold Lydar together. I don’t see how that will work without the Collegium.”
Quaeryt smiled wryly. “I don’t either. But I’ve been wrong before, and I could be wrong now.” You likely just won’t be around to see it this time if you are. “And Lord Bhayar needs to know in order to have a chance to make it work. He can always disavow anything we do if we fail. After all, he didn’t give us precise instructions. He just ordered me to find out why he wasn’t getting any dispatches and see if we could do something about it, and send word back if we couldn’t.”
“You don’t care much for the submarshal, do you, sir?”
“What I feel doesn’t matter. What matters is whether he’s loyal to Lord Bhayar.” Quaeryt stopped talking as Ghaelyn led the small party of nine around the mule cart.
The man leading the mule glanced up, gave the smallest of headshakes, and resolutely looked at the road ahead.
So far as Quaeryt was concerned, that was just fine. As he rode along the west river road toward Rivages, and Fiancryt, to the north, he went over his rough plans again. He had thought about entering Rivages and Fiancryt under the co
ver of darkness, but he’d dismissed that for a number of reasons, including the fact that it would have been much harder to find Myskyl and the others he sought.
In another quint, they were at the outskirts of the western part of Rivages, with neat brick and timber-plastered cots, some with thatch roofs, but most with fired flat tile roofs. The shutters were largely oiled, rather than painted. The road remained a graveled dirt way for another two hundred yards until they came to a square, paved in yellowish brick. A narrow timber bridge crossed the River Aluse, its causeway ending at the eastern edge of the square. A varied array of carts, small stalls, booths, tables, and peddlers were lined up around the edges of the square, except in front of the long and low inn on the west side.
As they rode past, Quaeryt ignored the efforts of those selling … and a few comments as well.
“… early apples … better than potions for you know what…”
“… cherries, fresh cherries…”
“… just what we need … more Telaryn troopers around…”
“… wonder where they’ve been … didn’t come over the bridge…”
“… coulda been delivering a message to DaFool…”
“… careful … playing up to the high ones…”
“… scarves for your woman, scarves for your lady…”
Once they had ridden through the square, the road narrowed into a street, largely fronted with shops for the next few blocks, then small dwellings … and then a few blocks of larger houses, before they rode past another block or so of smaller dwellings that dwindled into scattered cots. At that point, when he thought no one was looking Quaeryt raised a concealment shield. “I’ve raised a concealment. If any troopers ride toward us, they won’t see us. So we’ll need to move to the right shoulder of the road.”
“Yes, sir.”
After they had ridden another hundred yards or so, they came to a stretch of the road where there were no cots. On the west side of the road were tilled fields, filled with alternating crops, including beans, wheat corn, some maize. On the east side, there was what appeared to be a hunting part, with little undergrowth and trees with greater separation than in a natural forest. Fiancryt lands, thought Quaeryt.
Before long, Quaeryt saw riders in Telaryn green riding at what looked to be a fast trot, three of them, likely a dispatch rider and two escorts. Since they did not have spare mounts, they were most likely traveling a comparatively short distance, perhaps to the regiment patrolling south of Rivages on the east side of the river or to High Holder Paliast or, less likely, to Lady Tyrena D’Ryel-Alte. Quaeryt eased the gelding to the shoulder, and the others followed his example.
The three rode past as if Quaeryt’s party did not exist, which was fine with Quaeryt.
After riding another mille, Quaeryt saw the stone wall of Fiancryt, and in another two quints, he turned the gelding onto the path along the south wall, occasionally standing in the stirrups to see over the wall in order to locate a place where trees or bushes blocked a direct view of that section of the wall from the hold house and its outbuildings. Roughly two hundred yards off the west river road, Quaeryt found such a spot, where a grove of some sort of ornamental topiary was flanked by two small flower gardens. From what he could determine, no one was in the gardens, and there were no sounds of voices, not that he would have expected such during the morning in a hold largely occupied by Telaryn troopers.
He gestured to the others and reined up. “First, we need to image a smooth opening in the wall, wide enough for a single mount and rider. Khalis?”
“Yes, sir.” Khalis looked at the wall, and after a moment an opening appeared, with a faint hint of mist vanishing from the smooth stone on each side of the gap.
“Now we need a gate, hung on two sturdy iron gate hinges drilled into the stone. It should look old. Lhandor.”
In moments, what looked like a postern gate filled the space.
Quaeryt smiled. “After we ride through, Elsior, we’ll need a latch on the other side.”
“Oh … I’m sorry, sir,” said Lhandor.
“That’s all right.” Quaeryt looked to Ghaelyn. “Undercaptain, you and the men are to wait here among the trees until you have word … if you can, avoid detection. If you cannot, ride off and return later. If you have no word by fourth glass of the afternoon, you’re to return to Major Zhelan and report that. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt extended his shields enough that they pushed open the gate as he rode through it, still holding the concealment. He glanced around, surveying the area, but it was deserted and he moved forward to allow the other three to enter the hold grounds. He waited while Elsior imaged a proper latch with a heavy catch before he spoke.
“Now, what we’ll do is ride as close as we can, under concealment. When I order it, most likely in a corner of a courtyard, hopefully near a stable, Khalis, you and Elsior raise personal concealments. You’ll have to tie your mounts and walk away to follow us. Lhandor, you won’t raise a concealment. I’ll drop the overall concealment and immediately head for a junior officer. Lhandor, you’re to accompany me until you get to a position where you can raise a concealment without much notice, but all three of you are to follow me, but at a distance, and under concealment. Follow me into the hold house, but do not enter any chamber I enter. They could be traps, and I might need help from outside.”
“Yes, sir, but…?” Lhandor looked puzzled.
“I’m a senior officer. I wouldn’t show up without a junior officer. Appearing without an escort would make everyone suspicious. What will happen”—You hope—“is that everyone will see that I’m properly accompanied, and when you vanish from sight, that you’ve been told to wait somewhere.”
All three undercaptains nodded.
As the four rode out from behind the topiary and across the meadow, largely clover, Quaeryt noted, toward the hold buildings, Quaeryt concentrated on trying to identify which buildings were likely what. The hold house itself was one of the larger ones Quaeryt had seen in Bovaria, built of the same gray stone as the wall and rising three stories. Unlike Seliadyn’s hold, or that of Daefol, the hold house showed no signs of fortification or the like, with comparatively wide windows on all levels. The plan of the main house was simple, with a square central section and two wings extending from the main section, running roughly north-south, parallel to the River Aluse, some three hundred yards to the east. The main house was situated on a rise some twenty or twenty-five yards above the riverbank. There was a courtyard at the south end of the main house, almost directly ahead of Quaeryt, if several hundred yards away, but nothing directly behind it so as not to block the view of the river. While he could not be certain, it appeared as though there was also another courtyard on the north end. Several low buildings formed an arc away from the south wing of the hold house, possibly a guesthouse, two stables, and two barns, plus a low shed. There was also a small pier on the river with an adjoining pavilion. The pavilion was vacant.
Quaeryt rode slowly across the meadow angling the gelding toward the rear of the south courtyard, that section where troopers, and officers, were more likely to assume someone there had been there for a time. When they neared the rear of what was clearly a stable, Quaeryt said, “Keep your voices low if you have to speak.”
Then he rode through the paved space between the stable and the barn to the east of it, reined up just short of the courtyard, and dismounted. “Lhandor, you dismount.”
Lhandor nodded.
“Concealments, Khalis, Elsior.”
The pair acknowledged his order by vanishing from his sight.
Quaeryt led the gelding around the corner and into the courtyard toward the nearest stable boy, noting that there was a hitching rail just a bit farther on.
“If you’d stable him,” Quaeryt said with a smile, “somewhere you can find him in a glass.”
The stable boy looked up at Quaeryt, took in the commander’s insignia, and nodded. “Yes sir.”
> “Also, my undercaptain’s mount, if you would?”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt offered a pleasant smile and then began to walk toward the hold house, not rushing, but not being leisurely, either. After he’d walked a good ten yards, he glanced back, smiling as he saw Khalis’s and Elsior’s mounts tied to the railing.
Lhandor kept pace with Quaeryt, just at his shoulder, but a half step back.
When they reached the side entrance to the hold house, the trooper standing there glanced at Quaeryt’s insignia, but said nothing as Quaeryt stepped through the doorway, followed by Lhandor, who paused as if brushing something from his eye and held the door for several moments before leaving it ajar and hurrying to catch up to Quaeryt, murmuring, “They’re inside, sir.”
“Good. Thank you,” replied Quaeryt in a low voice as he looked down the long corridor, before spotting an undercaptain carrying a folder of papers. Quaeryt turned his steps toward the junior officer, catching up with him just outside an open doorway, through which Quaeryt could see several table desks and a number of rankers seated at them, some with ledgers.
“Undercaptain…”
The undercaptain turned, puzzled rather than surprised as he took in the gold crescent insignia, before looking at Lhandor and relaxing his expression slightly. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m looking for the submarshal.”
“He’s in the command study, sir.”
“If you’d show me the way…” Quaeryt smiled politely, but his tone conveyed the sense of an order, not a request.
“Yes, sir. This way, sir.” The undercaptain turned and continued past the chamber holding the ranker clerks.
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