Alastar signaled a halt and reined up. He turned to Landesh. “The river road seems fairly exposed from here.”
“A company formed up here would be just as exposed to their fire, and they’d see us long before they marched into range.”
“What if they couldn’t see you?”
“But they—” The senior scout broke off his words. “You could hide a company?”
“If they stayed in a tight formation.”
“The rebels couldn’t see muzzle flashes?”
“No.”
Landesh pursed his lips. “They’d still know we were here somewhere.”
“Would they charge through that water? If they did, wouldn’t it slow them down?”
A slow smile crossed the scout’s lips. “A hundred yards of knee-deep water and mud. That’d slow anyone down. They might send lancers, but they’d want to ride around the water.”
“If they went north, they’d have trouble with all those berry bushes. And if the marshal sent mounted infantry to man the ambush, they could mount up and withdraw before the rebels ever got too close,” suggested Alastar. “Think about it.” He eased the gelding forward.
For the next half mille, a large and overgrown woodlot covered the ground on each side of the narrow lane, which now rose somewhat and showed greater signs of use, unsurprisingly to Alastar, given the scattered cots to the west. But beyond the woodlot, he saw another flooded area beside the river road. Not only that, but because the lane was higher, any troopers posted on the lane would actually be firing down on the road, and any attack on the troopers would have to be through deeper water followed by an uphill slog.
Alastar looked to Landesh.
“Be even better here, sir.”
“What if we did both?”
“They’d likely act quicker the second time. Might be better to have our men fire from the saddle.”
Alastar could see that, but he still wanted to see where the lane led.
The imagers kept riding for another mille. While the river and the river road angled slightly more to the southeast, the lane kept heading south. Then, from the top of the next rise in the lane, Alastar could see a hamlet or small town. He judged it to be another two milles away. At the bottom of the rise, the lane widened into more of a road, with cots on plots of land spaced much more closely together. He looked eastward. Even from the rise, he could barely make out the river road. But you can … barely. “It looks like the lane or road goes to that hamlet before turning back east and meeting with the river road.”
“Yes, sir. We came down the river road and took it to the hamlet. The locals told us this lane just ended, and only a few small holders lived on it.”
“The rebels would get the same answer, but they might not believe it.”
“Be easy enough to put a scout right here. Quellyn could let us know when the rebels reached that bend, and if some were headed to the hamlet.”
“That’s a very good idea.” Alastar smiled. “I think we can head back now.”
38
Alastar had hoped to meet with Wilkorn and Maurek when he and the imagers returned so that the three of them could talk over what he had discovered on his scouting mission and work out what he had in mind, but both Wilkorn and Maurek were out doing their own scouting. Then the two senior officers held a meeting with the battalion commanders. In the end, Alastar wasn’t able to gain a moment with Wilkorn until after the imagers and troopers had been fed. Even then Alastar had to hurry to catch up with the marshal, who was walking up the road and had almost reached its crest. Maurek was nowhere to be seen.
“Thought I’d see how the road looked in low light,” offered Wilkorn.
“You don’t think they’ll attack at dawn or dusk?”
“You can’t ever tell.” Wilkorn stopped at the edge of the road’s crest, looking southward across the fifty yards stretch immediately before him, a section with an incline almost imperceptible, one so gradual that the paving stones looked almost level.
Alastar waited.
“Understand you’ve been looking for me,” Wilkorn finally said. “How did your scouting mission go?”
“Fairly well. I’ve located several places where we could conceal a company, and they could open fire on the rebels, but where the rebels wouldn’t be able to get to our company before we could withdraw.”
“I’d like to hear more.” Wilkorn’s tone was even, neither encouraging nor discouraging.
“You know that road partway down from the crest of the road, the one that heads almost due west…” Alastar went on to describe the terrain and what he and the scouts had worked out as a rough plan of attack.
When Alastar finished, Wilkorn frowned slightly, then said, “I like the idea, and we could spare a company, but getting a full company moving and then set up again in a space of less than three milles might be asking too much, especially on that narrow a lane. There’s also the problem of mounts. They take up space. If you have the men mounted, so that they can move—”
“I see your point,” Alastar replied. “We couldn’t conceal mounts and men unless the horses were farther away, and then all the men couldn’t get to their mounts, and if they’re mounted there wouldn’t be enough space for a full company.”
“My thought would be to place two squads in the first position and have the other two squads wait near the second position … I’ll talk it over with Maurek, see what he thinks. We can work something out.” Wilkorn glanced away.
“There’s also something else,” Alastar added. “It’s not as pleasant.”
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem. It’s an opportunity. You remember the poisoned bullets that the brown-shirts used to kill our imagers?”
“I do.”
“We’ve managed to duplicate a thousand cartridges just like them. We thought they might be useful for whatever company you wanted to employ them. I’d think they’d likely be more useful at closer range after initial contact, but how they’re used is up to you. There is one restriction. I’ve heard that sometimes troopers chew bullets to make them more deadly. These shouldn’t be chewed. They can be handled, but not chewed.”
The marshal winced, and a slightly appalled expression crossed his face. “That doesn’t feel right…”
“No, it’s not. It’s nasty; the Nameless would call it evil; and those poor misguided rankers don’t deserve it—but our rankers, the factors, and the people of Solidar certainly don’t deserve what those Namer-cursed idiots commanding those poor rankers will get if we lose.”
“I can’t argue that. I don’t like it, but I can’t argue it.”
“Think of it this way: If Aestyn had better bullets, would he hesitate to use them? Or Hehnsyn? Or Marryt?”
“I can’t argue that, either.” Wilkorn shook his head. “Maurek and I will have to talk it over, but I’m inclined to have the company assigned to you and your imagers be the one with those bullets. Do you have any objections to that?”
“No. That makes sense.” For a great number of reasons. First of which was that while the bleufleur killed quickly, its effect wasn’t instantaneous.
Wilkorn smiled sadly. “I would have to end up commanding in a war where both sides are fighting for what they believe is their very survival.”
“The High Holders believe that, and they’re wrong. Most of them will survive as High Holders for generations, if not longer. They just won’t have the power they once did. If the Collegium fails, in three generations, imagers will be being killed or be in hiding again, and Solidar will suffer the loss of all we provide, which costs almost nothing.”
“You really think that?”
“No. I know it. Name me another land on Terahnar where imagers are not slaves or in hiding.”
Wilkorn frowned, then shook his head once more. “After all these years, I should know better than to argue with you.”
Alastar managed a laugh. “You weren’t arguing, only questioning, and it was a fair questio
n.”
“It was a question I shouldn’t have asked. I already knew the answer. Must be getting old.”
“You’re not that old,” protested Alastar.
“My muscles ache when I ride all day. My bones ache, even when they’re not broken.” The marshal glanced down at his splinted arm. “I worry when I know there’s nothing to worry about, and I let a rebellion happen under my own eyes and didn’t see it. That’s another reason why I have to be here.”
“Who could have imagined—”
“You did.” Wilkorn shrugged. “I didn’t. If anything happens to me, make sure that Maurek is the next vice marshal. He’ll be a good successor to Vaelln.”
“You’ll likely be in a better position than I will to assure that.”
“That could be, and then it might not be.” The marshal smiled. “I need to find Maurek and talk some matters over with him.”
After leaving Wilkorn, Alastar walked slowly back toward where the rest of the imagers were settled in. Wilkorn wasn’t that much older than Alastar, perhaps five years … maybe slightly more than that. And he thinks he’s getting old?
39
Alastar slept even less well on Samedi night, even though he was more tired, most likely because he kept worrying about what lay before him … and the imagers. While he could still image as strongly as ever—at any one time—he had the feeling that he didn’t quite have the resilience and stamina he’d once had. That had been reinforced by the awareness that it took him longer to recover from heavy imaging. He also worried about what other stratagems Ryel and Ryentar had in mind, or possibly had already put in play. Then there was the matter of Bettaur, who had clearly been doing his best to increase his strength as an imager—and who had likely thrown in with the rebels. And behind it all was the feeling that the High Holders wouldn’t have rebelled if they hadn’t believed that they had a decent chance of prevailing.
After Alastar woke and ate, he went over the strategy that he and Wilkorn had developed with both Akoryt and Cyran, although he made it clear that only one imager group at a time would be away from the main body. Even as he did so, he half wondered if Commander Maurek might make additional suggestions … or find some reason that it wasn’t feasible—which was certainly possible.
Once he was sure that both Akoryt and Cyran understood what he had in mind, he spent much of the morning working with both groups on imaging iron darts—refining the size and shape so that each imager was more effective … and so that each would use less strength when they needed to image those darts against the rebels. That was as much because he couldn’t think of anything else that would improve the imagers’ chances of affecting the battle or battles to come. He also worked on getting them to alternate imaging so that three of them could maintain a steady stream of darts. Then he had them work on thick fogs of red pepper mist.
In early afternoon, when the imagers, including himself, were tired, but not totally exhausted, he went looking for Maurek since he hadn’t heard from either the commander or the marshal. This time, he found Maurek leaving the mess area.
Maurek spoke first. “Good afternoon, Maitre. I saw you were working your imagers this morning.” He paused. “Some of what you were working on seemed … ah … fundamental.”
“It was. Imagers are highly trained to work as individuals. We seldom work as groups. That’s required … infrequently, while other skills are required continually.”
“Hadn’t thought about that.”
“Marshal Wilkorn and I talked last night…”
“He told me about your suggestions, and his modifications. The idea sounds like it should work. I haven’t decided which company to use.” Maurek smiled. “I’m thinking of Captain Weidyn’s company. He’s worked with you before, and he reported on those events favorably.”
“We’d be more than happy to work again with the captain and his company,” replied Alastar.
“I’ll inform the captain that he’ll be reporting to you until further notice. We would appreciate your informing either me or the marshal of any evolutions you plan before beginning them. That’s so that we have an idea of where you’ll be and what you have in mind … since I understand that where imagers are involved, one may not see all that is happening.”
“I’ll report any independent action we take.”
“I appreciate that, Maitre.”
“Do we have any idea where the rebel forces might be? The marshal said he didn’t expect them until around midday tomorrow.”
“We still don’t have any reports.” Maurek frowned. “We sent scouts south of Caluse yesterday. They should have returned by midday. They haven’t.”
“You think they were ambushed?”
“There were four of them—they work in two-man teams. There aren’t any clouds in that direction. The water level in the river is down a little, not up. It’s possible that they’ll be back shortly, and it may be that the rebels are moving more deliberately than we thought. They do have almost a regiment of High Holders’ forces, and they’re not used to army evolutions.”
“You’re still concerned,” offered Alastar.
“I am. If they’re not back by fifth glass, I’ll be worrying that they ran into a larger advance force.” The commander shook his head. “They were experienced men. If they ran into trouble, at least one of them should have been able to escape. If one didn’t, that could be a real worry.”
“Do you have other scouts headed that way?” asked Alastar.
“I sent out a full squad early this morning. They’re scouting both the river road and the side roads and looking into ways that Aestyn might send troopers to try to flank us.”
“Like the lane we looked into?”
“And anything else. After dealing with the pirates along the Southern Gulf, he’s had more experience than any of us with ambushes and unusual maneuvers or tactics. I did insist that some of the scouts lay well back and report if anything happened to their comrades.” His mouth curled into a wry smile. “Complete information is best, but I made the point that incomplete information was far better than no information at all.”
“Especially since we have no information at all at the moment.”
“That’s another worry.”
“You do have more than a few,” agreed Alastar.
“You can expect Captain Weidyn before too long.” Maurek glanced to the south.
Alastar took the hint. “Thank you. We appreciate your assigning a veteran captain. I’ll let my imagers know.”
After Maurek headed south along the road, past the various companies, Alastar headed back to find Cyran and Akoryt. Unsurprisingly, they were standing in the shade of an ancient oak that dominated a wooded patch some twenty yards from where the imagers mounts were tethered. Given the bright and hot harvest afternoon sunlight, he couldn’t say that he blamed them.
“I met with Commander Maurek a little while ago. We’ll be working with Captain Weidyn again. I imagine it won’t be too long before he arrives. He’s a very solid officer. We couldn’t do better.”
Cyran and Akoryt both nodded.
Alastar wasn’t in the least surprised when Captain Weidyn appeared striding along the edge of the stone-paved river road less than half a quint later.
Weidyn stopped a yard or so from Alastar, inclined his head. “Maitres, Fifth Company reporting.”
“It’s good to see you again, Captain,” replied Alastar. “We have a plan, but it will take both imagers and your men to implement it.”
“Commander Maurek said you had an idea for reducing the number of rebels before we met in a full battle.”
“We do. We replaced a ruined bridge in order to gain access to a lane that parallels the river road…” Alastar went on to explain.
When he finished outlining both the terrain and the proposed plan of attack, Weidyn nodded, then said, “Begging your pardon, sir, but while I trust your judgment on this, I’d feel that we could do this better if one of my senior squad leaders and I rode out and l
ooked over that lane.”
Alastar refrained from smiling at the way Weidyn had phrased his concerns without ever seeming to impugn his own assessment. “That’s an excellent idea. I might suggest that one of the imagers accompany you and that you do that immediately. If you feel that another tactic might be superior, we’ll need to make changes, the sooner the better. If not, then I’d prefer any tracks on the road not be too recent when the rebel scouts appear. I’d assume there’s a chance they’ll scout the lane as well … although they might not if the locals in that hamlet tell them that the bridge is out.”
“I appreciate the offer of an imager, sir. That way we could move faster with fewer men. We’ll meet him … or her … here in a quint, if that’s satisfactory?”
“That will be fine. It will likely be Arion. He’s a senior maitre. He has very strong shields.”
“Thank you, sir. By your leave?”
Alastar nodded. “I’ll look forward to hearing what you have to say … and any recommendations you may have.”
After Weidyn strode away, Akoryt looked to Alastar. “He doesn’t totally trust your judgment, does he?”
“He shouldn’t,” replied Alastar. “I’m an aging imager who’s never been in a war or trained for one. More important, he might just see something I overlooked. He spent some time as a squad leader digging out pirates from the Sud Swamp. You’d better have Arion get ready. Weidyn will be here when he says.”
While Akoryt went to tell Arion of his task, Alastar imaged a simple wooden chair with very short legs, then eased it against the trunk of the oak and settled into it. He was so tired that he dropped into a doze deep enough that he didn’t even hear Arion and Weidyn leave.
Treachery's Tools Page 47
