Antiagon Fire ip-7

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “Thank you for your courtesy,” replied Vaelora. “You may go.”

  Once the chamber door closed behind the factor, Quaeryt shook his head.

  “It didn’t take them long,” said Skarpa dryly.

  “The factors in Laaryn must have sent a fast boat down the Laar-without stopping,” mused Quaeryt. “This is going to create some considerable problems for your brother.”

  “Factors can be worse than High Holders, it appears,” said Skarpa.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” explained Quaeryt. “The factors of Laaryn immediately sent word to the factors here, and most likely to those all along the river. That suggests that they can and do work together, more so than the High Holders. That also explains why the factors in Laaryn were so surprised. I would suspect that all of the factors’ councils, at least along the River Laar, cooperate in managing the flow and pricing of goods.”

  “They’re all in on it, the greedy bastards,” murmured Skarpa.

  “That’s not always bad. It could result in more flour and grain in bad times as well.” Although the price would be higher. “But it does mean that Bhayar will have to be consistent in his dealings with all factors, and not play off one area or group against another-unless he wants some very dissatisfied factors … and that’s not a good idea.”

  “Inconsistency isn’t a good idea in anything,” said Vaelora.

  “Except occasionally in battle,” pointed out Skarpa.

  “Your point is taken, Submarshal, and that reminds me.” Quaeryt rose from the table. “I need to take care of another matter.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Vaelora.

  “To talk to the imagers, and have Lhandor design a better bridge. It will give him and them more practice for what they’ll need to do when they return to Variana.”

  “Do I want to know what else you have in mind?” asked Skarpa gruffly.

  “Probably not.” Quaeryt grinned. “But if they build solid bridges across the Aluse and roads in places that need them for trade, that will show that imagers can benefit everyone. That can’t hurt.” Assuming we all can survive to return …

  20

  By midafternoon on Vendrei the skies over Daaraen had cleared, and on Samedi morning, after checking with Skarpa to determine that Southern Army was indeed riding out, Quaeryt dispatched rankers to inform the factors’ council that their presence was expected on the city side of the lower bridge over the Phraan River at eighth glass. Then he summoned the imager undercaptains to meet him in the plaques chamber in the Grande Laar Inn.

  While he ate quickly with Vaelora, in their chambers, she looked at him and smiled. “You like doing this, don’t you?”

  “I’d rather impress Bovarian factors by creating things.” Besides, there’s already been enough destruction. “It’s also more impressive, because what you’ve created remains.”

  “Dearest, you’re an optimist. People fear destruction, not building.”

  “So … I should just destroy parts of the city?” His tone was ironic.

  “No. I’m just telling you what people are like.”

  “Then it should help if I have the imagers destroy the old bridge first.”

  “That would be better.”

  “And I don’t want to portray Bhayar like Kharst.”

  Vaelora shook her head.

  “I’d best be going to meet with the undercaptains.” Quaeryt swallowed the last of his tea.

  “I’ll take care of getting all our gear out and ready, dearest.”

  Quaeryt had his doubts about that, but merely said, “Thank you,” and then headed down the stairs to the plaques room. All the imagers were present when he walked into the chamber and closed the door behind himself. With Desyrk and Smaethyl remaining in Laaryn with Meinyt and Fifth Regiment, that left just six imagers.

  Not for the first time, Quaeryt wondered if what he planned with the imagers was the best strategy. Yet … if you keep them all together, then you don’t create the impression you need … and Skarpa will need imagers in Ephra. He offered a smile he wasn’t sure he felt, then said, “Good morning. The skies are clear, and we’re heading out. As I told you yesterday, we need to provide a certain demonstration for the locals.” And for a few of the regimental commanders … like Kharllon and Meurn. He looked to Threkhyl. “Threkhyl … you’ve studied the plan Lhandor gave you thoroughly?”

  “Yes, sir. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And you can image the basic structure?”

  “Yes, sir. Could do more, sir.”

  “I’m certain you could, but I don’t want any of you unable to image after we leave. With less than eighty milles to Ephra, there’s always the possibility of running into something unexpected, especially since there aren’t any other Telaryn forces in this part of Bovaria … and there are High Holders reputed to have forces the size of several companies, if not larger.”

  “You don’t think…?” began Horan.

  “I’d doubt it, but we’ve been attacked by smaller forces than those might be, and I’d rather not lose troopers when some effective imaging could prevent it.”

  Most of the undercaptains nodded.

  “There will be one change. I’d thought just to have you replace the old bridge. The Lady Vaelora pointed out a problem with that. Since she has seen the effects of what rulers do for far longer than I have, I do listen to her. Most people tend to forget that the power to create is also the power to destroy, and they fear destruction more than creation. So … Horan, before Threkhyl and the others image the new bridge, I’d like you to destroy the old one.”

  Horan smiled. “I can do that, sir.”

  “Good. Otherwise, we’ll proceed as planned. Any other questions?” Quaeryt looked across their faces. “Then load out and mount up. I’ll see you in the side courtyard shortly.”

  Once he left the room he hurried back up the stairs to the chamber where he’d left Vaelora, only to find it vacant. He laughed softly and headed back down to the courtyard and the stables beyond, where, indeed, Vaelora was mounted with her single kit behind her saddle, holding the reins to Quaeryt’s mare.

  Quaeryt just grinned at her and shook his head. “Sometimes…”

  “Dearest…”

  When Quaeryt saw her expression, and that of Zhelan beyond her, he could only laugh and mount. In less than half a quint, first company was riding away from the inn to meet up with the other two regiments at the northern market square. While there were some people on the streets, most moved away from the riders, although quietly.

  Although he had a greater force to gather, Skarpa reached the square within moments of the time that Quaeryt did, more than a quint before eighth glass.

  “Would have liked to have moved out earlier,” said Skarpa.

  “I know, but we need the factors to see this. At seventh glass, many wouldn’t have come. The council would, but not some of the others, and the more that are here, the better.” Quaeryt glanced to the southeast side of the market square, where more than a score of factors stood, many with frowns and quizzical expressions on their faces. “I’ll think I’ll ride over there for a moment. If you would position the column, with the imagers in front, the way we planned.”

  “I’ll take care of that. Be a pleasure to see their faces.” Skarpa snorted.

  “Zhelan! The submarshal will be positioning first company.” As he called out to the major, Quaeryt could see Vaelora beside Zhelan. She gave Quaeryt an amused smile.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt turned the mare and rode across the square to where the factors had gathered. He’d barely reined up when Jarell stepped forward.

  “Might I ask, Commander, the point of requiring the factors’ council to be here this morning?” Jarell’s voice was polite, but there was a tension in it. “I doubt that the factors need to see your arrayed forces to understand the power of Lord Bhayar.”

  “There is power, and there is power, Factor Jarell. But in answer to your question, we d
id not request your presence merely to see our troopers depart Daaraen. We had another purpose, which will become clear in a few moments. If you and the others would move a few yards farther north, to where you have an unobstructed view of the bridge, everything will become most clear very shortly.” Quaeryt smiled politely, but he did image-project a sense of reasonable authority. “The matter will not take long, and I appreciate your diplomacy in dealing with a difficult situation.” He had no doubt Jarell had been chosen to treat with them just because the factor was calm and diplomatic, but it didn’t hurt to recognize it.

  Quaeryt eased the mare along the edge of the paved portion of the square, then waited for the gaggle of factors to follow, listening as he did.

  “… don’t see the reason…”

  “… power’s its own reason, Vauxal … its own reason…”

  “… be thankful you’re not watching executions…”

  “… just glad they’re leaving before they require all the provisions we have…”

  Once Telaryn forces were in position, the imagers at the head of a column that stretched for a good half mille, if not farther, back through the streets, Quaeryt guided the mare to a position between the imagers and the factors, then reined up. The undercaptains waited no more than thirty yards from the approach to the old bridge and less than ten from the gathered factors.

  “Factors of Daaraen!” Quaeryt projected authority, then waited for the murmurs and conversations to die away before continuing. “We requested your presence here this morning for a specific reason. In coming to Daaraen, we could not help but notice that the bridges across the Phraan were in less than perfect repair. Therefore, as a gift to Daaraen, and as a reminder of the beneficence and power of Lord Bhayar, we have decided to remove this bridge and replace it with another … one that is … sturdier. Much sturdier.”

  Quaeryt turned and gestured to Horan. “If you would remove the present bridge.”

  “Yes, sir.” Horan gazed at the narrow timber span, barely wide enough for a single wagon, with narrow railings and planks separated enough that anyone on the bridge who looked down could easily see the gray waters of the river.

  A single flash of light flared across the river, and thin sheets of white fog rose from the water, immediately dispersing to reveal … nothing. Where the old timber bridge had stood, supported on two stone pilings, nothing remained, not even the pilings.

  Quaeryt said nothing, just waiting, again listening.

  “… what happened…”

  “… Namer-flamed imagers…”

  “… do that?”

  Quaeryt again spoke, image-projecting his voice. “Now that the old bridge has been destroyed totally, it is time for a new and stronger bridge to replace it.” He gestured to Threkhyl.

  Another series of light flashes flickered across the river, followed by a white fog that filled the air above the water, water now covered with a thin layer of ice. The fog immediately began to disperse under the bright morning sun, revealing the solid structure that arched over the river with enough clearance for the largest of river and flatboats-but not enough for tall-masted sailing craft, since Quaeryt doubted that few would attempt sailing up the narrow and shallow Phraan. As Quaeryt had suggested and Lhandor had drafted, the bridge supports were of black granite. The side walls and the pillars at each end were of image-hardened white alabaster. The roadbed was wide enough for two large wagons side by side, with room to spare.

  Quaeryt studied the faces of the factors as they beheld the bridge that seemed to rise out of the white fog. Most showed no initial expression, as if they could not quite comprehend what had occurred before their eyes. One-Jarell-frowned, nodded, then turned to the older factor to his left, murmuring something. The thin sheet of black ice on the river, which extended several hundred yards upstream and downstream of the new bridge, began to crack into fragments that shimmered in the sun, and more wisps of fog rose from the ice and the water.

  Quaeryt waited, watching to see what ice, if any, remained on the bridge roadway, but the thin rime quickly dispersed, far more swiftly than the ice on the river below. He looked back to face the gathered factors. “To prove the strength of this bridge, we will leave Daaraen by crossing it on our way to Ephra.” Turning from the factors, Quaeryt eased the mare over to ride beside Vaelora, flanked by Zhelan on the far side.

  Then he gestured and ordered, “First company! Forward!”

  The roadway’s black stone did not even vibrate as the riders of first company, and then of Eleventh and Nineteenth Regiments, rode across, four abreast, filling the span from end to end.

  When they reached the middle of the bridge, Vaelora leaned toward Quaeryt. “Very well done, dearest. They will remember the day.”

  “And the power of Lord Bhayar.” He grinned.

  21

  By ninth glass on Lundi morning, the Telaryn force had passed through a score of hamlets and villages, the last being Ghaern, a largish village where they had spent the night on Solayi. They had reached a point some fifteen milles north of Ephra, and while the troopers watered mounts and took a break, Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Skarpa stood under an oak tree that was shedding leaves with each gust of a damp wind that felt only a trace less than raw.

  “So far as I can tell, there’s no way to cross the river except by ferry,” said Skarpa. “The maps don’t show any bridges. None of the locals know of any, and the only ferry is supposed to be at Geusyn. That’s maybe five milles north of Ephra.” He gestured to the far side of the river. “Over there all I can see is marsh and swamp and trees … and sometimes our supply flatboats.”

  “We should think about building a bridge somewhere,” suggested Quaeryt. “If you need to deal with the Antiagons, you don’t want to rely on ferries.”

  “Needs to be closer to Ephra,” said Skarpa. “We’d have to slog through swamp on the west side.”

  “We’ll have to see if there’s any place with solid ground on both sides and where the river’s not too wide,” added Quaeryt. If there even is such a place. He was already worrying about saying that he and the imagers could build a bridge to Ephra. What if the river gets even wider and the ground stays swampy?

  “I’d not want to wager on that,” replied Skarpa.

  “Nor I, either. It might not be practical, but I can hope.” Quaeryt refrained from shaking his head. “Have either Meurn or Kharllon said anything about the bridge Threkhyl imaged?”

  “Not a word. Not where I’ve heard anything.”

  That wasn’t surprising.

  In another quint Southern Army was again riding along the rutted road south, with first company in the van, followed by Eleventh Regiment. Skarpa and Quaeryt rode side by side, with Vaelora and Zhelan behind them. Quaeryt couldn’t help but glance continually at the river, and at the far side, but the western shore seemed an unchanging welter of low trees, reeds, and high grasses, stretching west as far as he could see. Does it go on all the way to Ephra?

  After another glass or so, his intermittent study was interrupted by the sound of scouts galloping back toward the vanguard.

  “Sirs! Raiders ahead! Attacking a wagon.”

  “How many?” demanded Skarpa.

  “A squad. Couldn’t be more than that.”

  Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Major … take first company. Lhandor and Threkhyl, you go with them!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “First company! Forward!” ordered Zhelan.

  Quaeryt forced himself just to watch as first company headed out at a measured pace.

  “Very good,” murmured Vaelora as she eased her mount forward until she was riding almost at Quaeryt’s shoulder.

  “I agree, Lady,” added Skarpa, with a laugh.

  “Thank you both,” replied Quaeryt dryly.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised that there are raiders here,” Skarpa finally said, easing his mount almost to the left shoulder of the road to allow Vaelora to ride up between him and Quaeryt. “No large towns, no sign of High
Holders.”

  “But what are they raiding?” asked Quaeryt. “The most valuable goods are on the river … or in Ephra or Kephria.”

  Skarpa frowned. “If they’re raiding, they aren’t doing it for nothing.”

  The column continued southward, and a mille later, as the road curved back eastward around a low hill, two scouts rode toward them, reining up and then riding beside Quaeryt along the shoulder on the east side of the road.

  “The raiders were gone when first company got there. They attacked a wagon.”

  “Who were the riders?” asked Skarpa. “Could you tell?”

  “No, sir,” replied the scout. “They wore dark green, all of them, like uniforms.”

  “Someone’s private army,” ventured Quaeryt. But that raises even more questions.

  Ahead, Quaeryt saw a wagon, and first company, formed up on the road to the south of the wagon, with a squad of rankers and Zhelan surrounding the wagon.

  The first thing that Quaeryt noticed as they rode closer was the blackened area around the rear of the wagon, as if someone had started a fire that had failed to ignite the broken tailboard. The wagon itself was small, half the size of a dray with large high wheels supporting a body barely three yards long and perhaps half as wide. The wagon bed was a yard deep and a canvas sheet had been tied across barrels and kegs set on their butt ends, but the containers had been smashed open and their contents strewn across the road and the west shoulder.

  Quaeryt had no trouble smelling the overpowering odor of what had been in the wagon. “Elveweed,” he said to Vaelora.

  “All those barrels?”

  “It looks that way.”

  The single draft horse lay on its side, unmoving in its traces. Seeing the dark stain on the dirt, Quaeryt reined up beside Zhelan and looked closely. One side of its skull was crushed in.

  “What sort of weapon…?” He shook his head.