Lundi morning dawned cold but clear, with a wind out of the northeast. Usually, Quaeryt knew, that when the wind blew out of the center of Lydar, there was less likelihood of heavy rain or snow. Usually … but not always.
Immediately after a hurried breakfast, he went to find Zhelan, who was already inspecting the stables.
“Commander, you look to be in a hurry, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but have you heard something from the Khellans?”
“Not yet. I don’t know exactly how the High Council will react, but it could be that we may want to leave Saendeol immediately after Lady Vaelora and I meet with them. Just in case, I’d like to have the men ready for a departure. It might be as early as ninth glass, and it might not happen at all today.”
Zhelan raised his eyebrows, wanting to ask a question, but not wanting to presume.
Quaeryt almost smiled, but replied, “The Pharsi are stubborn. Whatever happens, they’re unlikely to accept Lord Bhayar’s terms immediately. I could be wrong, but we’re in no position to start an attack on Khel, especially at the beginning of winter, even if we are in the south.”
“You’re thinking of returning to Kherseilles, sir?”
“More likely to Geusyn or elsewhere in Bovaria while the Pharsi decide. If they do accept Lord Bhayar’s terms, we won’t stay much longer, nor will they wish us to, I suspect.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are your thoughts, Major?” Quaeryt paused and added, “Your honest thoughts,” emphasizing his desire for that honesty with a touch of image projection.
“I’d be agreeing with you, sir. There’s little more we can do here.”
“Except kill people … and that won’t help our mission.”
“No, sir.”
“We’ll need just a squad as an escort to the High Council, and Undercaptain Khalis and Undercaptain Horan. I’d think we should form up at two quints before the glass.”
“Very good, sir.”
Quaeryt returned to the main dwelling and sat in the front study and fretted until Vaelora joined him.
“You think they’ll say ‘no’?” she asked.
“I don’t think they’ll commit to anything. If they reject Bhayar’s terms, that immediately angers him. If they accept them, that will anger most Pharsi.”
“So what do we do?”
“Make certain, as best we can, that they commit to eventually accepting them without saying so.”
“That won’t please Bhayar.”
“I’m sure it won’t, but I can hope he’ll be a realist.”
“He’ll blame you, you know?”
“I’m quite aware of that,” he said dryly. “I can hope that, in the end, it will work out.” So long as getting to the end doesn’t take too long … or put me in the far north of Bovaria destroying High Holders who can’t or won’t accept Bhayar.
He was glad when it was time to leave for the meeting with the High Council, if only so that they could learn where they stood … and, hopefully, what they could do about it.
The ride from the compound was uneventful, and there were neither significantly more or significantly fewer people along the streets or in the main square of Saendeol, although Quaeryt did notice that many wore relatively heavy coats or sweaters, and even the poorest seemed to be wearing several layers of clothing.
“Is it that cold out?” he asked Vaelora.
“It’s colder than it has been, but not by that much.”
Quaeryt looked to the north, but the sky remained clear, if slightly hazy.
Abruptly Vaelora laughed softly.
“What?”
“We’re in the south. They’re not that used to cold. It was the same way when Father moved us from Extela to Solis. I kept wondering why people in Solis were wearing coats on pleasant days.”
Quaeryt hadn’t even considered that, possibly because he’d grown up in Solis, but had then had to get used to the bitter cold of Tilbor.
As before, when they reached the council building, Quaeryt and Vaelora walked around to the north doors, followed by Calkoran. Neither of the guards at the doors, even as they opened them, would look directly at Quaeryt or Vaelora.
Good or bad? Quaeryt almost shrugged. One way or another, it didn’t matter.
He remained a half step behind Vaelora when they climbed the single step and stopped before the long desk and the five councilors.
Vaelora inclined her head so slightly that the motion was barely perceptible. “As you requested, we walked the Hall of the Heavens and met with the Eleni. We have returned to request your consideration of the favorable terms offered by Lord Bhayar.”
“For envoys who are requesting favorable action, you are not being especially accommodating,” replied Cheliendra.
“You requested that we prove we could walk the Hall of the Heavens,” said Vaelora. “We did. Our request, in turn, is that you consider the terms.”
When there was no immediate response, Quaeryt spoke. “We came here to work out terms that would be beneficial to both Khel and Telaryn. Thus far, we have not demanded anything more than a meeting time. You on the other hand…” Quaeryt let the silence draw out. “Let us just say that for the leaders of a land facing terrible problems and the threat of worse, you appear to be behaving in a manner that does not consider realistically either the situation in which you find yourself or the benefits to be gained by working out terms with Lord Bhayar.”
“You claim that we will benefit because we stand alone,” said Cheliendra. “Yet Antiago is not yet a part of Telaryn. You say that you do not come to threaten. Yet is not your very presence a threat?”
Quaeryt did not reply immediately, thinking for several moments. “Is it a threat to come to a neighbor and to say there is a fire burning through the grasslands that will consume you? Is it a threat to warn of an oncoming storm? Once there were many separate lands in Lydar. Once even what is now Khel was three lands, I have heard it said, and this very city was the capital of Jovana. Those three lands did not survive, but became one. So it is becoming with Lydar. It will be one land before long. You in Khel did not regain your full freedom from Bovaria because you were strong. You regained it because Lord Bhayar destroyed Rex Kharst, and that was because he was strong, not you.”
“You say that you will not use your powers, Son of Erion,” asked the woman to the immediate right of Cheliendra, whose name Quaeryt did not recall, “to force Khel to agree to terms with Lord Bhayar. Then why are you here?”
“Khel cannot be forced to agree to those terms, not unless the land is laid waste and even more Pharsi are slaughtered, not unless all are frozen under the lash of a winter you have not ever seen, and should hope you will never see. Your choices are simple. You can agree to work out terms with Lord Bhayar. Or you can refuse for all time, and in time, you will see that winter and those deaths.” Quaeryt knew that there was a third choice, but he wanted the High Council to suggest it.
“You have said that we stand alone, but there are others not yet a part of Telaryn,” replied Cheliendra.
“The time when you will stand alone, and without allies or friends, is not that far in the future,” replied Vaelora, even before Quaeryt could have said a word. “Long before Rex Kharst attacked Telaryn and brought all this to bear, the Autarch of Antiago inflicted great pain upon Lord Bhayar. Even as we traveled here, we were attacked by Antiagon ships. After such provocations, how long will Antiago stand, do you think?”
“I imagine that depends on how much Antiagon Fire the Autarch has and how strong the walls of north Antiago are,” interjected the councilor to the right of Cheliendra.
She might have said more, Quaeryt thought, but for the sharp glance from the head councilor.
Cheliendra cleared her throat. “There is an old saying. ‘Do not argue over what is not and what may never be.’ That profits no one.” She looked directly at Vaelora. “Lady Vaelora, Eherelani and farseer that you are, we cannot decide for our people on what might be. If and when we stand alone,
there will be time to consider the terms Lord Bhayar offered. Even then, it will take time for those terms to be sent to the councils across Khel. You should understand that Khel is not ruled by the will of the High Council, but that the High Council reflects the will of the people as expressed by the local councils.”
“That we do understand, Councilor,” returned Vaelora. “When you send those terms to the local councils, and as I stand here, you will have to do so or face even greater devastation of your land, we would suggest that it would be the better part of wisdom to suggest that some accommodation with Lord Bhayar would be greatly more to the benefit of Khel than failure to reach such accommodation.”
“And what accommodation is Lord Bhayar offering, if you might tell us.”
“Refraining from invading Khel and reducing it to an even greater state of ruin than the one in which it already finds itself,” replied Quaeryt. In the momentary silence that followed, he image-projected a sense of destruction and devastation, of death and despair, of famine and futility.
Even Cheliendra paled.
After another silence, she spoke. “There have been others who could impose images and feelings … but the most appalling aspect of those you have shown us is that they come from within you and from what you have experienced. How can you live within yourself, Son of Erion?”
With great difficulty, at times. Quaeryt looked at her, image-projecting absolute conviction. “Why do you think I am here? Why do you think I am almost pleading with you to accept Lord Bhayar’s terms? Do you think I wish more devastation?”
“Then leave us be,” offered the woman who had not yet spoken.
Quaeryt smiled bitterly. “Then I would condemn the children of today’s children to the continuation of war and devastation, and the same to their children. You wish a momentary peace, but given what men are, the only lasting peace within the boundaries of Lydar that can come is when all Lydar is one land under one set of laws. Lord Bhayar would make those laws fair for all, as he has done in Tilbor and as he is doing in Bovaria.”
“And you would see to that?” The words were almost mocking.
“He has no choice.” Vaelora’s voice was like the chill of the deepest winter, immobilizing all on the High Council as if they had been turned into pillars of ice. “And Lord Bhayar has no choice but to heed him.”
Quaeryt took a step backward … and waited. So did Vaelora.
Several low sentences passed back and forth between the three women at the center of the Council. Then Cheliendra straightened and looked at Quaeryt and Vaelora.
“The will of the High Council is to consider Lord Bhayar’s terms once Khel stands alone. In the meantime, when you leave Saendeol and the lands of Khel, you are to take with you all those men who served Lord Bhayar. The one who stands behind you is never to return to Khel, even if in the future, we reach an accord with Lord Bhayar, for that will be a part of that accord. If such an accord is agreed to, all others may return as they wish. You may remain here in Saendeol for as long as a week, or as you wish.”
“We will depart shortly,” replied Quaeryt. “There is little reason to impose on your hospitality now that you have heard us out. We wish for all of us that we can reach a peaceful agreement.”
“Until then,” added Vaelora.
Then they turned and walked from the building.
Once more, on their way out, the two guards avoided looking at either of them.
Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora said more than pleasantries until they returned to their quarters at the compound outside Saendeol and began to gather their gear for the ride back to Kherseilles.
“Poor Calkoran,” said Vaelora sadly.
“You don’t think they’ll ever relent?” Quaeryt couldn’t help but recall when Calkoran had ridden nearly headlong into a Bovarian musket ambush to warn Quaeryt because there had been no time and no other way to convey the warning. Nor could he ignore the totally dedicated support that Calkoran and the Pharsi troopers had provided. While he understood the High Council, he truly wondered how many of them had ever seen real combat.
“No. Do you? Didn’t you notice that the High Council never addressed him directly? Except one time. For them, he does not exist as a Pharsi.”
“And he never will?”
“Bhayar will not jeopardize an accord over Calkoran, though he will find some other recompense.”
Quaeryt noted the definite, if slight, emphasis on the word “will.”
Her voice was soft as she went on. “There’s always someone to blame.”
“Like us … for failing to get the High Council to agree to Bhayar’s terms?”
“Once Antiago falls, they will accept terms,” said Vaelora.
“And Antiago will fall?”
“Why do you think Skarpa is in Geusyn? Do you think that Bhayar sent two full regiments with you just to treat with poor battered Khel?”
“That thought had crossed my mind, but I can’t see Skarpa attacking Antiago without provocation.”
“We were attacked by Antiagon ships coming here. Others may attack on our return. Aliaro has been unable not to act imprudently for any length of time.”
“Is this another farsight? Like the one you won’t tell me more about?”
“That one is … I just don’t think I should tell you.”
Quaeryt nodded. He understood her reasons, even if he didn’t happen to be certain he agreed, but his views wouldn’t change hers.
“This isn’t a farsight.” Vaelora laughed. “It’s the result of years of quiet eavesdropping. And when Aliaro has been destroyed, the High Council will haggle. They will protest, but they will agree.”
“Because they see they have no choice?” Quaeryt’s tone was sardonic, yet resigned.
“No, dearest. They will accept because they have seen devastation in your eyes, and heard destruction in your voice … and felt the honest desperation of your not wishing to unleash it upon them.”
And they heard icy certainty from a Pharsi farseer, which may have meant much more. But he did not say those words.
41
The ride back to Kherseilles took six long days, a day less than the trip to Saendeol had required, partly because Quaeryt and Vaelora had not wanted to remain in Khel any longer than necessary, and partly because Quaeryt had begun to worry even more about what was happening along the Bovarian border with Antiago.
Just after sunset on Solayi evening, first company reined up short of the harbor piers at Kherseilles. As Quaeryt had suspected, the four merchanters were long gone, and the Montagne and the Solis were tied up at opposite sides of the longest stone pier. He was about to ride out to the Montagne when a single rider approached.
In the growing twilight it took Quaeryt a moment after the man reined up to recognize Subcommander Khaern.
“Commander, sir. We weren’t certain when you’d be back. We took the liberty of turning two of the warehouses-the ones that were not in terrible condition-into quarters. The inns here…” Khaern shook his head. “That will leave space on the Montagne for first company.”
Quaeryt smiled. “I certainly don’t have a problem with that, but I’ll need to talk with Captain Nykaal and you. Matters aren’t what we’d like, and Lady Vaelora and I need to hear what’s happened here so that we can decide what to do next. In a half glass on the Montagne?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh … and you and Subcommander Calkoran will need to work out quarters for his battalion after I spend a few moments with him.”
Khaern nodded.
“Good.” Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Subcommander Calkoran … I’d like you to join us for the meeting on the Montagne. I’d also like a word with you before that … once we’ve unloaded.”
“Yes, sir.” Calkoran’s voice remained slightly subdued, as it had been on the entire journey back from Saendeol.
Quaeryt, Vaelora, and first company then rode along the stone pier until they reached the Montagne. After dismounting and seeing that his
and Vaelora’s gear, and Vaelora, were safely aboard, Quaeryt returned to the pier to meet with Calkoran.
As he stood there and the Pharsi subcommander walked toward him in the light breeze off the water, surprisingly raw to Quaeryt, although in a sense it felt warmer than the inland winds, Quaeryt couldn’t help but feel compassion for Calkoran, who had been punished far more for trying to do the right thing by his men than so many officers who’d actually done the wrong things and never been discovered. One of the ironies of war and battle.
“Sir?”
“How fast can your battalion make the journey from Kherseilles to Geusyn?”
“A good ten days, maybe more if the weather is bad.”
“Are you willing to do that? We’re going to need every man possible.”
“Antiago?”
“Either Antiago or the southern High Holders, if not both.”
“Sir … we’ve not spoken … about the future.”
“No … we haven’t. Are you willing to remain in service?”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt understood what lay behind those words. What other real choice does he have? “In time, Lord Bhayar will be properly grateful. At the moment it’s a good thing we’re as far from Variana as we are.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Lord Bhayar would prefer others see what he would call reason. I believe that will happen. It just won’t happen for a while, and it’s better to let time and distance separate us while events make that point rather than have to explain it in person.”
The faintest smile crossed Calkoran’s face before fading away.
“I’ll leave the arrangements to you, but I can likely spare a hundred golds from what Lord Bhayar provided to help with supplies and other necessities. I’d like you to leave as soon as possible after we depart. We’ll talk about the timing after we meet with Nykaal and Khaern.” Quaeryt paused. “One other thing. What about the mounts that the Council provided?”
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