Calkoran snorted. “We paid for them. The Council merely allowed us to purchase them.”
“Then take them with you, regardless of the Council’s decree. They might make the trip easier.”
“If you had not suggested that, I would have,” Calkoran paused. “Sir … there is one other matter. I would be remiss…”
“Go ahead.”
“There have been other sons of Erion. There was Calixen, who was drowned in a flood, and Polysses, who fell from the sky and the road of Erion. They are among those we remember. Do you know why?” Calkoran’s voice was soft, almost sad.
“No.”
“Because they failed. They failed because they turned from their destiny and sought glory and power for themselves. We remember those who failed. No one remembers those who were true to their destiny and did not seek glory.”
Quaeryt tried not to shiver at the honest certainty in the voice of the Khellan officer. Finally, he said, “Thank you.”
“You should know.”
Quaeryt nodded. “Until later, then.” He watched as Calkoran rode back to the foot of the long stone pier.
It was close to seventh glass when Quaeryt, Vaelora, Nykaal, Khaern, and Calkoran gathered around the circular table in the captain’s stateroom on the Montagne. Quaeryt stood, letting the others sit. He began by summarizing the events of their journey, then concluded, “We believe that, in time, the Khellan High Council will agree to some form of agreement. If they do, there is nothing to be gained by remaining in Kherseilles. If they do not, there is also no reason to remain here, since we do not have the resources to conduct or even begin a campaign, especially given the bitter winters in the north and west of Khel.” He turned to the ship’s captain. “Have you received any messages from anyone?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you seen any Antiagon ships?”
“I’ve had the pinnaces patrolling. Wouldn’t have wanted anyone to come in and catch us unaware. Two or three sails … might have been Antiagon. They didn’t come close enough to the harbor to be sure.”
“How many men can you and the Solis transport back to Ephra-or Geusyn?”
“On a single voyage?” asked Nykaal. “Might be able to handle seven hundred. Eight hundred would be pushing it.”
“How soon could you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll have to push it … twice.” Quaeryt ignored the captain’s frown. “We can’t afford to make three trips to get first company and the regiment back to Geusyn, and Subcommander Calkoran barely has enough spare mounts for a company.”
“It won’t be comfortable, sir,” said Nykaal.
“I understand, Captain. Believe me, I do. But I have reason to believe that Submarshal Skarpa may need as many additional regiments as possible as soon as practicable, and we will accomplish nothing by remaining here.”
“As you wish, Commander.”
Quaeryt could tell that Nykaal was less than pleased. “You have some concerns that you have not voiced, Captain? Is there something I should know?” Quaeryt image-projected both sincerity and concern.
“Nothing that I could put a finger on, sir.” Nykaal paused. “Winds might not favor us.”
“At this time of year? They’re usually out of the southwest on the west of Lydar,” said Quaeryt.
For just a moment, Nykaal looked surprised.
“Unless they’ve changed in the years since I was a quartermaster,” added Quaeryt.
Again … there was the slightest hesitation before the captain said, “You’re right. Most of the time they are, but in Ianus … you can’t always count on it.”
“We’ll have to chance that, and you will have imagers for protection on the first voyage.”
“That’d be true enough.” Nykaal smiled. “That’s a comfort. Is there anything else?”
“At what glass should we begin loading tomorrow?”
“You want an early departure. Say fourth glass.”
Quaeryt looked to Khaern. “I’ll need you to stay here and hold Kherseilles until the Montagne and Solis return. I’ve leave it to you as to which two battalions you want to embark.”
“Second and fourth, sir. They’ll be ready to load out at fourth glass. If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Go. You have a lot to handle.” Quaeryt smiled warmly at the subcommander.
Close to two glasses passed before Quaeryt finally finished dealing with Nykaal, giving last moment instructions to Calkoran, and going over loading plans with Nykaal and Bourlyt, the captain of the Solis. His eyes were twitching, and he was sore all over when he finally sat on the edge of the wide bunk of the captain’s cabin and pulled off his boots.
“Is everything settled?” asked Vaelora, gently in, as usual, high Bovarian.
“As much as it can be tonight.” He yawned. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be early.” Too early. “Do you have any idea why Nykaal is worried?”
“I don’t think he wants to head back.”
“Why not?”
“It could be that it has nothing to do with him, but you.”
“Someone doesn’t want me back in Bovaria too soon?”
“That’s only a guess.”
“It can’t be Skarpa.”
“No … but it could be almost any other senior officer. Deucalon, Myskyl, or one of their commanders. Or … it could be that Nykaal has other reasons.”
“Or he’s worried about what the Antiagons might do when he returns to Ephra?” Quaeryt shook his head. “I’d doubt that.”
“We’ll just have to watch and see.”
As with everything else.
42
Quaeryt truly had to force himself out of the wide bunk in the darkness of early Mardi morning. He did try to move quietly in dressing, but suspected he woke Vaelora anyway, although she rolled over and was sleeping once more-he thought-when he left the stateroom. While he watched the onloading of the two battalions, for the most part, he let Khaern direct the operation, and by sixth glass, Nykaal and Bourlyt had ordered the gangways pulled.
As the lines were singled up, Vaelora joined Quaeryt on the upper sterncastle deck.
“You couldn’t sleep?”
“With all that noise?” She raised her eyebrows.
It hadn’t seemed that loud to Quaeryt, but he supposed he was more accustomed to it … or not so light a sleeper as Vaelora.
“Look!” said Vaelora. “Over there.”
Quaeryt turned to follow her gesture. At the foot of the piers, Telaryn-uniformed riders were forming up. It had to be Calkoran’s battalion presenting a departure honor guard. “I didn’t order that.”
“Of course not,” replied Vaelora. “Calkoran wants to show his appreciation and respect for your standing behind him and his men. How else could he do it?”
Quaeryt had to agree with that. He also hoped that, somehow, he could reward the Pharsi troopers whose bravery, skill, and support had enabled the imagers to function and improve. Without them, even more of the imagers might well have perished in the campaign to take Bovaria. Not that it’s still totally taken.
From behind them, Nykaal issued another set of orders, and the lines were reeled in, and the two seamen vaulted aboard as the Montagne slowly pulled away from the pier under partial sail. As the captain ordered more sail spread, the ship moved more quickly out of the harbor. Quaeryt looked back, but Calkoran’s troopers maintained their position at the foot of the pier so long as Quaeryt could see them.
Quaeryt remained on deck, watching as the Montagne moved out into the Gulf and steadied on a southeast heading. He saw no other sails, but that didn’t mean that the Antiagons might not send more vessels against the pair of Telaryn ships.
After a time Vaelora said quietly, “I’m getting chilled. Would you mind…?”
“Of course not. I’ll see you later.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand, then moved to the ladder.
Perhaps a quint later Quaeryt sensed N
ykaal leaving his position by the helm and crossing the deck to join Quaeryt.
“Very clean departure,” said Quaeryt.
“Your men loaded well. That made it easy.”
“Khaern will be here when you return. There shouldn’t be any problem then, either.”
“You never said much about your time at sea,” offered Nykaal almost jovially, even while clearly ignoring the implications of Quaeryt’s words.
“It’s not something I’m terribly proud of,” replied Quaeryt. “I ran away from the scholars and spent more than three years on a merchanter. It took that long for me to realize what a mistake it was.” He laughed. “That’s not true. I realized it was a mistake in a few months. It took me the rest of the time to admit that I’d have to go back to Solis and grovel to get back to being a scholar.”
“You ever been at sea since-except for coming from Ephra?”
“I took two merchanters to Tilbor. One as far as Nacliano, the other to Tilbora … well, not to Tilbora. We got caught in a storm and broke up on a reef north of the Barrens … except it wasn’t a reef, but an ancient harbor wall. A place called…” He struggled to remember it … and finally did. “The Namer’s Causeway.”
“You fetched up along the Shallows Coast?”
Quaeryt nodded.
“Not many do that and live to tell of it.”
“I did. Later, when he came to Tilbor, Lord Bhayar cleaned out the last of the ship reavers and brigands.”
“I imagine a few people were pleased with that.”
Quaeryt shrugged. “The ship reavers had driven out most honest folk.”
“But … it took Lord Bhayar … later…?”
Quaeryt understood exactly what Nykaal wanted to ask. “I was still learning about imaging. It’s very dangerous, and most imagers die young. I knew that. So I was cautious as a youth, but that meant I hadn’t learned much. I learned a great deal in the year that followed.”
Because I didn’t have much choice.
“That says why many of your imager undercaptains are young, I would judge.”
“Either young or older and cautious. I’ve kept the younger ones with me until they gain more experience.”
“There are others?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Quaeryt with a smile, although he decided against providing more specific details.
“I wasn’t aware that there were so many imagers in Telaryn.”
“There aren’t that many, compared to all the people, but there are a number. The ones who are careful to hide their talents are the ones who have survived. That’s why you don’t see or hear of very many. Lord Bhayar decided that if he offered a reward for the safe handing over of young imagers who might otherwise have perished, they might prove useful in the war against Bovaria, and they have.”
“But … after the war … would they not be … a danger?”
“Most imagers present as much danger as perhaps a half squad of troopers. Some present no more danger than a man with a club. A very few present greater danger.” Quaeryt smiled. “But then, so does a great warship, or a great commander in battle. A good ruler is one who knows how to turn such dangers into tools to support his rule. Lord Bhayar is good at that. It’s one of his talents that his enemies have often overlooked.”
“I can see that.” Nykaal nodded. “Good leaders often have that talent. Once had a young seaman who’d been a cat burglar. Best topsail man I ever knew.”
“What happened to him?”
“Served his term and left. He’s likely either wealthy or dead. That’s the problem with unusual talents. They’re not always used in ways that those with power appreciate.”
“And even when they are, others with power may not appreciate those talents.”
“I imagine that is a possibility.”
“That’s always a possibility.” Quaeryt laughed, then added, “Those in power often have dreams above their abilities, which is why they would punish others with greater abilities, if they but could. It’s even more dangerous to dream above one’s abilities than to rightfully pursue one’s abilities.”
“Too true … but many might question the idea of what is rightful. Does having power make it right? We all know that being right in itself does not create power.”
“You’ve thought long on this, I’d wager,” replied Quaeryt. “I don’t know that there’s an answer that would suit the Nameless. I’m certain that the one that would suit the Namer is that might makes right. I would say that the more power one has, the greater the duty to use it wisely. Unhappily, the greater the power, the fewer the number of people who can place a check on that power or insist that it be used wisely. Still … I do know that Lord Bhayar has pondered this dilemma and that he has considered ways in which he can exercise his powers wisely. One of the problems he faces, as you must have considered, is that using power wisely is not always perceived as being in the interests of others who wish to see their power and influence grow, whether it should or not.”
“Is that always not in the eye of the beholder?” Nykaal’s reply was sardonic.
“Always,” replied Quaeryt. “That was Rex Kharst’s problem. He wished his power to be greater than it was when he scarcely was able to rule his own land. Did you know that he did not even have regional governors? Or that he entrusted tariff collections to factors and High Holders with no accounting procedures?” Quaeryt shook his head. “Lord Bhayar’s rule will be a blessing to most, although I do worry about the clamor for the creation of more high holdings in Bovaria.”
“Is not that why many have supported Lord Bhayar?”
“That, too, is possible,” replied Quaeryt, “but one thing I have learned as a commander and a governor is that putting ambition before order is always ill-considered because nothing that is not ordered endures.”
“Spoken like a scholar!”
No … spoken like a realist in a world of overambitious men. “Who else would say such?”
“You have interesting thoughts, Commander, but I should check our heading once more.” Nykaal smiled and turned.
Quaeryt watched the captain walk back toward the helmsman, wondering with what opponent of Bhayar Nykaal was allied or supporting.
43
Although the lookouts on the Montagne sighted sails on a number of occasions over the next three days, those vessels either kept on course away from the two warships or immediately changed headings to avoid closing. As Quaeryt half expected, the seas in the Gulf were rougher than on the outward voyage, and at times salt spray froze on the railings and deck at night, but there had been no storms … so far. The rough seas had resulted in many troopers hanging over the rails at times, but the numbers had decreased by Meredi afternoon.
Nykaal had been friendly, but had refrained from any more probing questions, even though he had eaten breakfast and dinner with Quaeryt and Vaelora every day.
On Meredi evening, Quaeryt, Vaelora, and Nykaal sat around the circular table after a dinner of white gravy over biscuits and mutton, filling but little more than that. The lager that Quaeryt sipped was far better than the fare.
“Do you really think that the Khellans will agree to terms with Lord Bhayar, now that they believe themselves to be free?” asked Nykaal.
“I think they will find that being free in the circumstances in which they find themselves will leave them with little real freedom.” Quaeryt sipped the lager, waiting to see where Nykaal’s questions might lead.
“Will that not encourage the Bovarians who are dissatisfied with Bhayar to cross into Khel? It would seem that might make taking Khel even more difficult.”
“I don’t think many will try that during winter, and those that do will likely not survive. By spring, matters may well be different.”
“How might that be?”
“Lord Bhayar will likely have a far firmer hand on Bovaria, and many who are dissatisfied now will be less so … or less of a problem by then.”
“Will he not have to increase tariffs to pay for
the war?”
“Not more than he already has, I would wager. He recovered much of Kharst’s treasury, and since Kharst’s armies were destroyed, there is no need to pay them. Bhayar’s forces can be paid from what Kharst had set aside.” For the next half year, at least.
“By your own words, then Khel has little to fear from Bovaria or Lord Bhayar in the months, or even in the years ahead.”
Quaeryt glanced at Vaelora, who smiled politely, then sipped a glass of red wine. She’d scarcely drunk half a goblet all evening.
“Oh … Khel has much to fear,” replied Quaeryt. “Lord Bhayar will do nothing to stop traders and factors from overwhelming Khel. If the Khellans resort to force or try to stop trading, then Bhayar will be forced to use force, and the Khellans will lose any possibility of favorable terms. The High Council knows this, but they must convince the people. If they do not, Lord Bhayar is in no worse a position, and does not have to fight a winter war.”
“I respect your scholarly reason, Commander, but I have my doubts that the Khellan Council will think it through so reasonably.”
“They don’t have to, Captain,” Vaelora said sweetly. “Quaeryt spelled it out quite clearly for them. They were less than pleased, but they understood.”
“Understanding does not always lead to the desired results, I fear,” said Nykaal.
“I could not agree with you more,” said Quaeryt warmly. “That is why we have armies and warships. And why rulers trust those who pledge allegiance the most who can back their understanding with power of one sort or another. There are many with power, and more than a few with understanding, but few indeed with both.” He took another sip of the lager. “This is very good. Might I ask where you got it?”
“A friend sent it to me from Tilbor actually. There’s a High Holder there who brews a truly fine lager. I was fortunate to receive a keg, and able to keep it cool.”
“It is excellent, even after all that travel.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
For the next quint or so, before Nykaal retired and left Quaeryt and Vaelora to their own devices, the conversation remained firmly on lager, wines, and other matters of cuisine and cultured dining. Even as he made various comments and observations, Quaeryt kept thinking about the lager … and how and where it had come to Nykaal.
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