Moments after Akoryt departed, Alyna knocked on the door and then stepped inside the study. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did. Please come in.”
Alyna shut the door and walked toward the desk. Alastar just watched. He enjoyed those moments, but tried not to show that.
“You’re looking concerned, Maitre,” observed Alyna.
“In my position, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not in your position, and I’m very concerned. I took a look at the Chateau D’Rex. Ryen has guards posted everywhere.”
“What about army troopers?”
“I didn’t see any.”
“Akoryt’s scouts report that Demykalon has moved two companies near the Chateau D’Rex. Both of the army positions north and south of Imagisle have mounted guards to keep people from seeing what they’re doing. They’re claiming to be seeking smugglers and spicers.”
“They couldn’t tell a sun eagle from a spicer,” said Alyna with a light laugh. “Neither could Demykalon.”
The way the phrase came off her lips suggested familiarity with the phrase, a phrase Alastar had never heard before. “Sun eagle from a spicer?”
“It’s a family expression.”
Alastar wondered if that had been passed down from Vaelora and what else from Alyna’s background might have come down from her. “You’re as skeptical of Demykalon as I am.”
“I might be more so.”
“Why, might I ask?”
Alyna smiled wryly. “I’m good with numbers and measurements. You can’t do that with character. So I tend to be skeptical based on people’s actions. Anyone who gives a demonstration of what his cannon can do is not someone I’d trust as far as I could throw one of those cannon. If it’s a boast, he’s not to be trusted, and if it’s a promise it’s the kind you don’t want to receive. Other than that, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Intuition?”
“Intuition is nothing more than the combination of knowledge, judgment, and feelings.”
“Meaning?” asked Alastar almost, but not quite, playfully.
“Lack of knowledge and poor judgment will undermine the best feel one can have.”
“Demykalon is knowledgeable and most likely has a good feel for people.”
“Then his judgment is suspect.”
Alastar raised his eyebrows.
“He thinks Ryen is a fool and that you will not act. That shows poor judgment. Ryen may not be the best rex. He may not exercise the best judgment, but he understands that the High Holders will bow only to power. In that, he is no fool.”
“And what about you?” Not for the first time in dealing with Alyna, Alastar wished he had not offered his words.
“I’m a Maitre D’Structure through your understanding and judgment.”
“And, most important, through your own abilities. I’ve also only seen good judgment and much knowledge.”
Alyna dropped her glance for just an instant before looking directly into Alastar’s eyes.
The directness of her study stunned him, yet he did not look away. He found himself smiling, and then saw that she was as well.
She laughed so softly and so briefly that the sound seemed to vanish more quickly than it had come. “Zaeryl hated that.”
“Because he could not meet your gaze?”
She nodded.
“You are rather intense.”
“As are you, Maitre.” She paused. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast…”
“Oh … I’m sorry.” He stood. “You should go and get something. We’ll be leaving the Collegium just before fourth glass. The others will be mustering at the stables at least two quints earlier.”
Alyna rose with all the grace that he so admired. “I’ll be there.”
Once more, he just watched as she left the study. He couldn’t help but wonder at the attraction she held for him. He couldn’t define it, and it was far more than physical interest. The intensity, the quiet directness, the intelligence, the ability, the range of understanding? He laughed. How many people have those traits, let alone an attractive woman? Still, whatever might occur between them would have to wait until they dealt with Demykalon, Ryen, and Guerdyn. That might be a long time, given what had seemed a simple difference over tariffs had become.
At two quints past third glass, Alastar left his study and walked to the stables. All the members of his group were there—Alyna, Khaelis, Lhendyr, Warryk, and three thirds. All wore sabres, not that Alastar wanted the blades used, even his own, except as a last resort.
“We’ll be riding out in about a quint. We’ll be crossing the Bridge of Desires under a concealment. That means you’ll all need to stay close. Are there are questions?”
“Sir?” ventured Khaelis, “You haven’t said what we’ll be doing.”
“No … I haven’t. There’s a possibility that you may have to do some imaging against those who intend to do harm to Imagisle.”
“How will we know—?”
“If that is necessary, there won’t be any doubt, and I’ll be giving direct commands.”
“How long will this take, sir?”
“I wish I could tell you. If we have to act, I’ll begin with commands that will require less force, such as imaging salt into the eyes of troopers, or fine pepper.”
Even as the three thirds nodded knowingly, Lhendyr and Khaelis exchanged puzzled glances.
The Maitre D’Aspect’s question reminded Alastar that the skills he’d been having Cyran teach the student seconds and thirds obviously hadn’t been taught to some of the older maitres when they’d been seconds and thirds. “If someone has salt in his eyes and is inhaling pepper, he’ll be far less dangerous. You might want to practice imaging a cloud of fine pepper while we wait—away from the rest of us, please. Or a fine mist of water and salt. If we come up against a mounted force, I may command you to image away the girths and cinches securing their saddles. If required, you may have to use iron darts through the eyes to kill people. I hope that’s not necessary, but it could be.”
Then Khaelis asked, “Are we going to face army troopers?”
“If you face anyone, it will be troopers,” admitted Alastar.
“What did we do—”
“It isn’t what we did; it’s what we didn’t do.” Alastar saw no point in shielding the junior maitres any longer. “We could not convince the High Council to agree to the rex’s new tariffs, not without killing most of the Council. The rex has threatened to make the Collegium his enemy for not doing that.”
“For not killing people?” asked Lhendyr incredulously.
“We may end up killing people anyway,” replied Alastar, “but the Collegium cannot afford to be the one to begin the slaughter. If you have more questions about why, I’ll be happy to answer them later.”
“That’s because too many people haven’t seen what imagers can do in generations,” added Alyna.
“And don’t think that people should already know,” added Alastar. “Most people don’t look beyond what they have seen, and few believe anything they hear if it isn’t in accord with what they wish to believe.”
Alyna nodded. The three junior maitres exchanged glances. There were no more questions.
A quint later, two quints before fourth glass, Alastar led his small group out across the Bridge of Desires under a concealment. He did not want to risk waiting to leave Imagisle until the last moment. After crossing the bridge, carrying the same strong shields he always did, he turned north and rode several hundred yards, to a position from which he could see both the Bridge of Desires and the spur of land that held the army troopers and, most likely, their cannon. A block and a half farther north, he turned in to a wider lane flanked by a bistro and a bakery. There, he positioned the seven riders so that he could watch the bridge without being seen by someone riding down the West River Road. Only then did he drop the concealment.
A small boy whom Alastar had not noticed in the doorway of the bakery gaped as he took in the sudden ap
pearance of the mounted imagers, then hurried back inside.
A quint passed, then another, before Lhendyr turned in the saddle and said something to Khaelis. Alastar had a good idea that the young Maitre D’Aspect was questioning why they were waiting for something that was obviously not going to happen,
“No patience,” murmured Alyna.
“How long do you think Demykalon will wait?” asked Alastar.
“Another quint. Just to be careful.”
“Do you think that I’m mistaken?”
“We can all be mistaken. I don’t think you are. Demykalon wants to strike against the Collegium. It’s only a question of when.”
“And with what.”
She nodded.
Less than a full quint later, a humming, not quite whistling, sound filled the air, followed by a splash in the River Aluse some twenty yards north of the Bridge of Desires.
Alastar managed to turn and see the last indication of the impact, white-tipped water being thrown south. Even as he glanced back upriver, a second whistling-humming sound was followed by others. Then came the explosions, seemingly unceasing, one after the other.
“Imagers!” snapped Alastar as he raised a concealment. “Follow me! You’re under a concealment. Hold shields from here on.” As he urged the gelding forward, he could see people hurrying out of the shops and the few dwellings between them on the west side of the road, some already staring at the shattered middle span of the Bridge of Desires.
At that moment, he could also see smoke coming from a point due west of the Bridge of Desires. A totally hidden cannon emplacement? He winced, but trying to change his plans now would only make things worse. He kept riding, hoping the third cannon emplacement wouldn’t do too much damage before they could get back to it.
Covering the five hundred yards or so between the lane and the entrance to the spur of land seemed to take several quints, although Alastar doubted that even half a quint had passed before they were within yards of their goal. There were no longer just five mounted army troopers posted along the edge of the West River Road, but more like a company, half with blades unsheathed and at the ready, along with small round shields, and half with heavy rifles out, alternating rifles and blades.
So they can stop attacks at a distance and also deal with infighting.
“Khaelis, Warryk, and Lhendyr! Pepper across the troopers! As much and as fine as you can. Rein up! Remove girths and cinches. If they attack you, use iron darts to kill. Thirds! Stay with the other maitres! Blades out and ready! Alyna! Close on me! We’re moving through.”
While still holding the concealment, Alastar extended his own shields into a wedge anchored as evenly as possible to his saddle and the gelding and urged his mount forward toward the middle of the mounted troopers. As he charged through a narrow gap widened by his shields, whose impact pushed aside bewildered troopers, some of whom flailed at him futilely with their blades when they came inside the concealment, Alastar found his own eyes watering from the pepper, too fine to be pushed aside by shields. He sneezed, once, and then again … and again.
Once through the company of defenders, and past the last line of scrubby trees, Alastar could make out six cannon in an arc facing south with a slight angle eastward, directly at Imagisle. Two more fired and recoiled as Alastar reined up and ordered, “Halt!”
There was no shelter and no cover, just fifty yards of ground from which most brush had been removed. Frig! All that rock, but none where we could use it.
“At my command, hot iron into the ammunition. Then hold the strongest shields you can, Anchor them to the rock below and slant them at an angle to deflect shrapnel upward and over us. Ready! Image!”
The roar was deafening. Brilliance and blackness swept over them. The ground beneath them shuddered. When the sound of the initial explosion died away, Alastar still could not hear, for all the ringing in his ears. Nor could he see clearly, even after dropping the concealment, from the brightness of the explosion and the earlier impact of the pepper. The swirls of intermittent smoke made seeing even more difficult. Light-headed as he felt, Alastar immediately contracted his shields just to protect himself. That helped some. After several moments, he surveyed the area. All of the cannon carriages had suffered enough damage, with several having wheels on one side or another broken, that none appeared able to be used. As for the gun crews and any others …
Alastar swallowed as he made out bodies and parts of bodies. Then he straightened and looked to Alyna, who appeared unfazed, if with a serious expression on her face.
She extended a water bottle, saying something he could not hear, but he had no doubt it was to say it held lager or the like. “Thank you.”
After taking a long swallow of the dark lager, Alastar looked south, and another puff of smoke reminded him of the third cannon emplacement. He took another swallow, then gestured.
Alyna frowned. “What?”
Alastar could barely make out the words, but replied, speaking as loudly as he could without shouting, “There’s another cannon emplacement near the Bridge of Desires. I didn’t see it before. We need to deal with it, you and I and a third. It’s smaller. We need to see how the junior maitres are faring.” He turned the gelding, took another swallow of lager, corked the bottle, and then extended it to Alyna.
She shook her head. “I have another.”
Alastar slipped the bottle into one of his saddlebags. When he did, he saw more bodies, both of men and mounts, clearly those who had been behind the three imagers and to either side of their shields. Beyond the fallen, almost a score of troopers remained near the road, all of whom seemed to be wounded in some fashion.
Alastar turned the gelding and rode back toward the road, Alyna slightly to one side and back.
“Anyone else who moves gets the same!” declared Lhendyr, who had clearly taken charge, and positioned himself at the head of a wedge formed by the three junior maitres, with the thirds on each side.
“Lhendyr, you and the junior maitres finish up here. Take all the weapons and mounts from the troopers. They can fend for themselves. Lead the mounts you can find easily back down toward Imagisle. If anyone gives you trouble, do whatever’s necessary.” Alastar wished he didn’t have to leave the surviving and wounded troopers to their own devices, but he didn’t have the resources to deal with them, and the last thing he needed was army troopers on Imagisle. Then he added, “Alyna and I and Chervyt need to see what we can do about the other cannon emplacement.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Chervyt!” Alastar called out toward the thirds. “Close up and follow us!” Then he and Alyna circled around the wounded and captured troopers and headed south, with Chervyt hurrying to catch up. Turning to Alyna, now riding beside him, he said, “I can’t believe I missed a cannon emplacement so close to Imagisle. It’s almost as if … Frig!” He shook his head. “Desyrk! The little bastard! I’d wager he went to his brother, and he used a concealment to move cannon from the emplacement we just destroyed.”
“He’s probably still there, then,” replied Alyna. “Neither Demykalon nor his brother would let him leave. They’d fear he was being used or that your discipline was a ruse.”
Alastar saw another puff of smoke, then a second, followed by some time before there was a third and then a fourth puff. “Just two cannon, I’d guess.”
“Just two?” Alyna’s tone was sardonic, then changed to concern as she added, “Drink more of that lager.”
“Yes, my lady.” Alastar definitely wanted those words back.
“I’m not your lady … or anyone else’s, Maitre.” The words were not stinging, if firm, but somehow almost gentle while unyielding.
“My apologies. Your advice is good.” Alastar extracted the water bottle and took one swallow and then another.
Alyna took out her second water bottle and did the same.
Alastar finished his bottle by the time they were within a block of where the two cannon continued to fire. He saw no sign of troopers
anywhere. Smoke clouded the entire block, making it difficult to discern exactly where the cannon were concealed, and he reined the gelding to a slow walk, then a stop, pondering. The kind of explosion that he’d created on the point would likely cause damage to the adjoining dwellings and shops.
“Anyone nearby should have fled,” suggested Alyna, almost as if he had spoken the words.
Alastar imaged hot iron needles—but nothing happened. Then he saw several of the iron needles glowing on the sidewalk in front of the shopfront from which another volley was fired. “He’s holding shields…”
“How can he do that and have the cannon fire?” asked Alyna.
“He can’t…” Unless his shields are set so that the muzzles protrude. Without knowing where the cannon were, Alastar couldn’t very well image something down the barrel, and to move to where he could see that might well expose him to the cannon—and he doubted that even his shields could withstand that kind of impact. “We’ll have to crush his shields. Rather … I’ll have to do that, and when I signal, you image more hot iron needles.”
“Can you … after all you did?”
“Desyrk can’t be that strong after holding shields himself. Besides…” What else can we do to stop the damage on Imagisle from getting worse? Every cannon shot destroys something or even may kill someone. Alastar could only hope that his and Akoryt’s preparations were minimizing the casualties. “Ready?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Alastar reached out with his shields until he encountered resistance, then began to press. For a moment, there was resistance to Alastar’s efforts. Abruptly, that vanished—and then everything exploded around him, with the same violence as had occurred on the river point. He managed to hold his shields even as he and the gelding were thrust back yards, if not farther. The gelding stumbled, almost going to his knees before recovering.
“Alyna!” Alastar could not even hear his own voice for all the ringing and echoes in his ears. Dust and debris cascaded over and around his shields. He kept looking for Alyna, then took a deep breath as the dust cleared and he saw debris flow down and off her shields. After a moment, he could see that she appeared untouched. “Are you all right?”
Madness in Solidar Page 31
