Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I’ll walk with you. You didn’t think I’d let you out of my sight any sooner than necessary, did you?”

  He smiled. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t.”

  As the two walked through the gray light of early morning toward the stables, Alastar couldn’t help thinking how differently the rebellion had developed from the time of madness that had marked the end of Rex Ryen’s rule … and how many more High Holders were now involved.

  Back then it was only about tariffs. He almost shook his head. The “simple” issue of tariffs had resulted in the death of the marshal of the army, the rex, and the head of the High Council, not to mention an attempted officer mutiny within the army, and the deaths of more than a regiment of troopers. Now … the struggle over golds, privilege, and power had combined into an armed High Holder rebellion.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” observed Alyna.

  “Just thinking about how small the troubles of when I became maitre were compared to what we face now. I certainly didn’t see them that way then.”

  “The stakes are higher now. High Holders were secure in their position then. Now many are not, and all of them worry. They worry more because they see the Collegium as powerful and as a potential enemy.”

  “Then there are factors like Vaschet,” mused Alastar.

  “The factors and the High Holders share a similar belief. They both believe that power should be determined by who has the most golds, property, and other physical resources. Most of them resent any other source of power and would destroy it if they could.”

  “Or they believe that golds should be able to purchase it. But since the rex controls the army”—or some of it—“and the Collegium controls imaging, and the Collegium places the freedom and safety of imagers above golds, even though we both know it’s not that simple…”

  “… only the Collegium has the power to keep them both from ruining Solidar in their single-minded pursuit of lands and golds,” concluded Alyna. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “Something along those lines. But that’s not all. The Collegium has taken impoverished children who have very limited imaging abilities and given them the skills to do other things. So far I don’t see most High Holders or factors doing that unless they see it bringing them more golds than such training costs.” He snorted. “They always plead an inability to do that when times are hard, and then claim they can’t do it when times are good because they have to save for when times are hard. That means that doing things for everyone’s good can only be done by the rex and the Collegium.”

  “That means higher tariffs and dissatisfaction,” pointed out Alyna. “That’s not exactly the most cheerful thought to set out on.”

  “No … but it might be more useful in not letting me get too sympathetic toward anyone.” Alastar’s words were sardonically spoken.

  “Stay sympathetic to me and the girls … and all the imagers who need your leadership … and remember what I said about Cyran.” She paused. “I definitely mean that.”

  Still recalling the vehemence with which she had spoken, Alastar said, “I’ll remember. There’s no way I could forget.”

  “Good.”

  As they neared the stables, Alyna reached out and squeezed Alastar’s hand. “Just take care of yourself.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “No. Just do what I said.”

  “I will.” He wasn’t about to argue with the iron in her voice.

  Just at the edge of the stable yard, Alastar halted, turned, and put his free arm around Alyna. Her arms went around him for a long moment before they separated, and he crossed the yard to where Kaylet had the gray saddled and ready for Alastar.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Maitre.”

  Alastar surveyed the yard, finally locating the two supply wagons, nodding as he noted the two spare mounts on short lines from the second wagon. After that, he fastened the saddlebags in place behind his saddle and glanced around the yard, looking for Cyran, before realizing that next to Alyna stood Shaelyt, holding the hand of his and Tiranya’s son. The boy looked toward his mother, who had just fastened a kit bag behind her saddle and was leading her mount toward Alastar.

  From the other side of the yard came Cyran, followed by Akoryt, and suddenly, or so it seemed, the stable yard was filled with imagers and their mounts. Alastar had already assigned the imagers to two groups, one headed by Akoryt, with the other two senior maitres being Arion and Khaelis, and the junior maitres being Dylert, Seliora, and Taurek. The second group was Cyran’s, and the senior maitres were Taryn and Tiranya, with Belsior, Chervyt, and Julyan as the juniors.

  “Imagers!” ordered Alastar, using imaging to boost his voice. “Form up on your group leader.” Then he walked his mount over to meet Cyran. “Good morning.”

  “It’s not bad for being early,” replied Cyran.

  “Not too bad. Now … when we join up with the army, I’ll ride near the van with the first group of imagers, and you’ll ride with the second group between the first and second battalion. Later, depending on what Wilkorn’s scouts report, you and the second group may be needed with the rearguard. Once we take up whatever position Wilkorn determines is to our advantage, we’ll evaluate that and decide where we can be most effective.”

  Cyran nodded. “It would be useful to know just where their cannon are.”

  “Very useful and most necessary, preferably well in advance. I’ve already stressed that to Wilkorn. Of course, everything could and probably will change.” More times than any of us would prefer. “Any questions right now?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I’ll join Akoryt and the first group, and we’ll lead the way.” Alastar mounted the gray and rode across the yard to Akoryt. “Is everyone here with all their gear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then we need to ride out, with shields in place.”

  “On the Maitre, shields in place,” ordered Akoryt, turning in the saddle.

  “Forward!” Alastar ordered, then glanced to the north side of the stable yard where Alyna still stood. Their eyes met for a long moment before Alastar glanced at Shaelyt, who had put his son on his shoulder so that the boy could see Tiranya as she rode out of the stable yard. Then Alastar returned his attention to the lane that led to the south bridge.

  Three quints later Alastar was easing his mount alongside that of Marshal Wilkorn, who had halted the army column. Less than two fifths of a mille to Alastar’s left were the west river barge piers, which would have cast shadows in the low morning light except that the waters of the River Aluse were so high that they left no space for shadows. He could also smell the mixed odors of spilled and ruined cargoes, a miasma redolent of rotting leaves, putrefying fish, garlic, spoiled cheese, and other less identifiable scents.

  “Morning, Maitre.” Wilkorn wore a light green army riding jacket … or half wore it, since his left arm remained in a splint.

  “The same to you, Marshal.”

  “You wonder why I’m here, Maitre? So do I. I’m not a land marshal, and I don’t claim to know tactics. That’s why Commander Maurek is here. I retain the right to override him … or to order him to listen to you. I doubt that will be necessary.” Wilkorn chuckled. “Truth is that I’m here because there’s nothing I can do at headquarters. Besides, this way Maurek doesn’t have to send messengers to me.”

  “And you don’t have to wait and worry, wondering if you should have been there.”

  “There’s one other reason.” Wilkorn offered a crooked smile.

  “You don’t have to worry about informing Lorien until it’s over.”

  “We can talk about that on the way. We’ll have time. We have two overlarge battalions, one of mounted infantry commanded by Major Luerryn, and one of foot commanded by Major Rykards. Where do you think your imagers should be positioned?”

  “For purposes of both attack and defense, we have two groups. On the march to Caluse, I’d suggest one group in the van, the ot
her halfway back, between your battalions. I’ll be with the first group. Once we near Caluse, obviously, we’ll need to adapt to the terrain and situation.” And where the cannon are.

  The marshal nodded. “That’s fine for now. Get your imagers in place. We’ll move up to give the first group space in front of first company. That way we can talk and your imagers will be close to the front—except for the scouts and one squad. Supply wagons go before the company handling rearguard.”

  “I’ll get them in position.” Alastar turned the gray and rode back to Cyran, relaying the marshal’s orders, then watched as the second group and supply wagons made their way north along the side of the road to take their positions. When he was satisfied, he turned to Akoryt. “You and first group will be taking station directly behind the command officers, and ahead of first company. In other words right behind me. That’s why they’re opening that gap.”

  “That’s good.”

  Alastar nodded. “On me.” He urged the gray forward toward where Wilkorn and the commander who had to be Maurek waited.

  Once the imagers were in position, with Alastar on Wilkorn’s left, the marshal nodded to Maurek, who rode on his right.

  “Column! Forward!”

  Wilkorn did not speak until they had ridden almost half a mille, then cleared his throat. “I noticed you’ve got two women imagers in your force.” The marshal’s bushy eyebrows rose.

  “They’re good. Better than some of the men.”

  “Still…”

  “We have to use as many of our best as we can,” replied Alastar. “If the rebel High Holders win, in a generation it’s more than likely that the Collegium will be almost powerless, and in three, it may not even exist. The women know that.”

  “Have they been fired upon?”

  “The two here have been, as have all those who are maitres. The two we brought have been under fire or were among the maitres who shielded Captain Weidyn and his men when they entered Laevoryn’s estate.”

  “Every imager fights?”

  “No. We train them all to fight, in case Imagisle is attacked, but off the isle, we only send those who can. Some of those are women.”

  “How effective is the training for those who aren’t the best?”

  “The night when the brown-shirts sent a squad to attack Imagisle, they ran into two student seconds. One temporarily blinded one attacker, and a young female imager killed him. After that, senior imagers killed the rest of the attackers.”

  “All of them?” asked Maurek.

  “So far as we know,” replied Alastar.

  “You don’t give much quarter, I see,” said the commander.

  “Not when they’re attacking children and students. Remember, almost all the imagers in Solidar are in one of two places. We can’t afford much generosity when we’re attacked.”

  “That’s something that more than a few High Holders and a rex have learned, rather fatally,” added Wilkorn.

  “That’s also why we’re here,” said Alastar. While Wilkorn knew that, Alastar had some doubts as to whether Maurek did. “The rebel High Holders wish to destroy the Collegium and all the imagers.”

  “Might I ask why?”

  “Because we’ve supported the rex and opposed their efforts to regain their ancient powers, which would allow them, among other things, to execute capital punishment without recourse to a justice and make it impossible for a factor or tradesman to use the justicing system to seek redress against them.”

  “They really are seeking that?” Maurek’s tone was close to incredulous.

  “A number filed petitions with Rex Lorien seeking restoration of the powers removed by the first Rex Regis with the Codex Legis. Lorien denied all of them.”

  “You see,” said Wilkorn jovially, “Lorien can do the right thing when it’s important.”

  “Will wonders never cease?” replied the commander, almost under his breath.

  Alastar looked past Wilkorn and Maurek and ahead, where he saw a whole section of flooded fields to the right of the road. Although the fields were higher than the river, they weren’t that much higher, and they were lower than stone-paved road, which acted like a dam, catching all the runoff. The tops of the stunted maize were yellow and extended barely half a yard above the murky water.

  “We’ve been asking all the questions,” said Wilkorn. “Is there anything you’d like to know?”

  “I do have one question,” replied Alastar. “How will the rebel commanders and subcommanders benefit from their mutiny against you and the rex? What about their men? That may seem simplistic, but I can see how the High Holders would feel they would benefit. I can even see how Aestyn, Hehnsyn, and Marryt might benefit. But what about the other officers and rankers? What were they told … or promised?”

  “The usual, I’m sure,” replied Wilkorn, “promotions, bonuses, and plunder, all larded with the idea that they’d be part of returning Solidar to its former glory. Remember, Marryt and Hehnsyn have been transferring officers, senior squad leaders, and squad leaders for almost a year. That was to obtain forces inclined to follow them.”

  “Does that mean your forces are more inclined to follow you and Commander Maurek?”

  “More likely Maurek,” replied Wilkorn with a smile.

  “You give me too much credit,” said the commander with a laugh.

  “Too little, I fear.”

  Just from seeing the interplay between Maurek and Wilkorn, Alastar felt strangely relieved, perhaps because he sensed they worked well together. He just hoped that proved true in battle as well.

  36

  Just after noon, still riding beside Wilkorn, Alastar spotted three riders moving toward them from the south. All wore the pale green uniforms of Solidar. But then, so would the rebel forces. But it was highly unlikely that three rebel troopers would ride up to a column of Solidaran regulars, and far more likely the troopers were scouts or couriers.

  Less than half a quint later, Wilkorn halted the column as the couriers rode up. One of the troopers handed a dispatch to Wilkorn, then moved to the west side of the river road, waiting.

  The marshal read the dispatch, then looked to Alastar. “The rebels are still well south of Reyks. They were slowed because one of the old bridges washed out. The whole bridge just tipped on its side, like it was one solid piece.” Wilkorn shook his head. “Never heard of anything like that. They had to march five milles west to ford the river—the Sommeil.”

  “What about the number of troopers?” asked Maurek.

  “Three regiments, or close to that.” The marshal handed the dispatch to the commander, waiting for Maurek to read it.

  “Thirty cannon,” added Maurek. “Aestyn’s regiment had twenty. They must have gotten some from Solis, likely earlier this year.”

  “I agreed to it last Fevier,” said Wilkorn dryly. “So Aestyn could position them more effectively.”

  Maurek handed the dispatch back to Wilkorn.

  “Since we’re making good time,” said the marshal, “and since they’re not, we’ll push on to where we’ll meet them. We’ll probably not make it until sixth glass, but we won’t have to make and break camp. Overall, that will give us more time to prepare.”

  Alastar shifted his weight in the saddle. He had the feeling that a number of imagers would need that time to get over being saddle-sore. He’d been riding enough that he’d only be slightly sore. You hope.

  Wilkorn nodded to Maurek.

  “Column! Forward!”

  By the third glass of the afternoon, Alastar was still riding in the same position beside Wilkorn as he had on and off for most of the day. Despite making liberal use of the lager in his water bottles, he was still hot. He blotted his forehead with his sleeve and then adjusted his visor cap.

  Something glinting in the distance to the southwest caught his eye. After a time, the shimmer faded, and he realized that the shimmer or glint must have come from the large lake that was still somewhat indistinct because of the haze that seemed to
be everywhere. He’d heard the name and seen it on the maps, but it took him a moment to recall it. “Is that Lake Shaelyt?”

  “That it is,” replied Maurek. “Not good for much. Shallow and swampy. Yellow catfish are about the only decent fish you can catch there. Before long we ought to be able to see the hamlet on the north. It’s hard to pick out the cots, with all the trees. I’ve heard that the hamlet was once bigger. That was when the lake was once larger and deeper. Maybe all this rain will help.”

  “Only the rushes and reeds,” said Wilkorn dryly.

  Alastar kept looking but almost two quints passed before he could make out the cots to the northwest of the lake, farther from the water than he would have thought. “What’s the hamlet called?”

  Wilkorn and Maurek exchanged glances.

  Finally, Maurek replied. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  Just ahead, Alastar saw a narrow dirt lane angling off the main road to the south and then more southwest toward the hamlet. Although he could not make out where it led much beyond the hamlet, he thought it might curve into the heavy forest that rose beyond the swamp on the west side of the lake and seemed to border the west shore of the lake as far as he could see.

  Over the next glass and a half, the river road ran along the top of a low ridge that followed the course of the River Aluse and roughly parallel the eastern edge of Lake Shaelyt, although the lake was almost two milles from the road. When the road reached a point even with the southern shore of the lake, it began to slope gradually downhill, even as the ridge narrowed and dropped off more steeply to the west.

  After they had ridden another mille, the road began a gentle rise, and Alastar saw ahead another lake, this one far narrower than Lake Shaelyt, perhaps half a mille across at the widest point, and not nearly so long, possibly only two milles or so. He glanced to the west, shielding his eyes with his hand, because the sun was so low in the sky. The fields north and east of the lake were waterlogged and muddy, and Alastar had the feeling that any crops planted there had either been washed out or drowned well before they could have been harvested. Before long the grade of the road lessened even more so that the rise was barely perceptible.