Antiagon Fire ip-7

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “Nice of you to tell me.”

  “You didn’t want to hear my plans. Remember? And … Nineteenth Regiment can stay as well. The other undercaptains and first company can come with me.” Even speaking that many words left Quaeryt feeling light-headed.

  “You’re not as well as you think.”

  “No … but Vaelora is Bhayar’s sister.”

  Skarpa laughed harshly. “I worry more about you and your imagers than about Lord Bhayar. I already told the captain to be ready to sail before noon. Major Zhelan is readying first company, but the ship can’t take any mounts. It’ll be crowded enough with your imagers and the troopers. And I’ve sent a small paychest. You’ll need it for supplies.”

  “Thank you. As for not having mounts, we’ll make do.”

  “I did find a carriage, and you will ride in it, Commander. I won’t be responsible for you falling off a mount when you shouldn’t be up at all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There are times when you can be impossible, you know?”

  “If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be acting governor of Antiago, and Bhayar would likely be dead and Solis in the hands of Rex Kharst.”

  “Quaeryt … I know you’re worried about Vaelora … but … don’t take it out on me.”

  “I’m sorry. I am worried. She’s not that far from having a child, only a month or so.” Maybe less. “And she’s not the kind to offer herself up.” Especially not after the way Aliaro treated her sister.

  “She and Baarl-and Khaern, if he’s back-would certainly withdraw from an attack by imagers,” Skarpa pointed out.

  “I left that order-if they had any warning. But when Kharst attacked Kephria, Aliaro shelled Ephra and used his imagers to incinerate the attackers with no warning whatsoever.” And you weren’t much different in your attacks on the cities of Liantiago. Is the Nameless returning the favor? Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder that, even as he still doubted that there even was a Nameless.

  “Just get yourself ready…” said Skarpa. “I’ll make sure that everything else is on board and waiting for you.”

  “Thank you … and I’m sorry … It’s just…”

  “I do understand … Now get yourself out of here. Don’t be too proud to ask Khalis or the others to help you.”

  “I won’t.” Quaeryt rose, deliberately, and inclined his head. “Thank you … again.” Then he walked slowly to the study door.

  In less than a glass, he was riding out from the villa in a white carriage, accompanied by Khalis and escorted by almost a company of troopers from Third Regiment.

  How could you not have seen this? How? And with Vaelora expecting? She’d said that he’d need every imager. But did you have to listen to her? He’d assumed that Aliaro would have understood that Kephria was merely the first city to fall. That was a terrible assumption. He didn’t even want to dwell on the fact that it might have cost him Vaelora-and their daughter.

  Yet there was nothing he could do-now-beyond what he was about to do.

  He forced himself to look at the buildings. From what he could tell, the villa in which he had been recovering was south and west of the Autarch’s Square, possibly more than a half mille away. Yet, as he continued through the streets of Liantiago, every building near the villa showed some signs of damage, if as little as shutters hanging askew, or cracks in the outside walls. In more than a few instances, though, an entire dwelling had collapsed in on itself. Several times, the driver had to slow the carriage to ease it over or around raised paving stones, although, after another half mille, the damage was far less apparent. By the time the carriage had reached the harbor, there were almost no signs of damage, except for an occasional broken window, shutters askew, or fragments of roof tiles on the ground or sidewalks.

  The three-masted schooner waiting at the long main pier was a comparatively large vessel, a good forty-five yards from stem to stern, with even a low sterncastle.

  Voltyr and Threkhyl met the carriage even before Quaeryt could think about getting out. Standing behind them was Alazyn.

  “Sir? The submarshal said that you’d ordered us to remain here to support him, but that you might have additional orders for us,” said Voltyr.

  “There may be imagers here that we don’t know about. That’s one reason why the submarshal may need you. The Autarch dispatched several to deal with Kephria. If they elude us, they may return here. For that reason, you are to attack and sink any Antiagon warship that attempts to port here.”

  Voltyr raised his eyebrows.

  “Do you want to face another imager as strong as those who defended the palace? The only reason an Antiagon warship would be attempting to land immediately would be if they have an imager on board. Any other warship would likely stand off and send in someone under a parley flag. If that happens, make certain that the warship anchors offshore and keep them there until you get a dispatch from me. If you don’t, then you’ll have to discuss things with the submarshal and exercise your own judgment.” Quaeryt laughed softly, and even that hurt. “You’ll have to rely on your own judgment in many matters, I suspect. Just remember that your fate, and the fate of all imagers, rests on our ability to support Lord Bhayar and to consolidate his rule over all Lydar. Anything else-anything-is likely to be fatal for imagers. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Voltyr nodded.

  “I’m taking Elsior with Lhandor, Khalis, and Baelthm because his life is forfeit here … and maybe we can get him to join us. At the same time, I’d like you to keep your eye out for young imagers. You know how to train them.”

  “You’re saying that we’re likely to be here for a while, then?”

  “You could be here for a month … or a year.” If not longer. “Remember, when all of this started, I thought I’d be gone from Solis no more than two seasons. That was almost two years ago.”

  Threkhyl started to open his mouth, and Quaeryt looked hard at him. Threkhyl closed his mouth.

  Quaeryt kept looking at Threkhyl. “You need to follow Voltyr’s lead, his advice, and his orders. It might just keep you alive.”

  After a moment the ginger-bearded imager replied, “Yes, sir.”

  As the two undercaptains stepped back, Alazyn moved forward. “Sir? Any orders for me?”

  Quaeryt frowned for a moment. “You’re here to support the submarshal. You’re also here to protect the imagers so that they can protect you as well. Don’t let yourself or Nineteenth Regiment be separated from the imagers. Undercaptain Voltyr may gather and train other imagers. While technically you are his superior, listen to him and see if you can accommodate any needs he has.”

  Alazyn nodded. “I heard what you said to them.”

  “They weren’t just words.”

  “No, sir. I’ve seen that.”

  Quaeryt smiled. “You’re a perceptive officer, Alazyn. I appreciate that.” He lowered his voice. “Be most careful around Commander Kharllon.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alazyn offered a hand to help Quaeryt from the carriage.

  As Quaeryt eased himself to his feet, several rankers hurried down to take his gear, such as it was. He walked slowly the distance to the foot of the gangway, his eyes flicking to the bow of the ship where carved letters, painted black, gave the name as Zephyr.

  The dark-haired captain, younger than Quaeryt had expected, possibly only ten years older than Quaeryt, despite his weathered skin, stood just beyond the quarterdeck, his face impassive … for a moment, until he saw Quaeryt’s silver-white hair, honey-colored skin, and dark eyes. Quaeryt couldn’t read his reaction, but it was clear Quaeryt’s appearance had given him pause.

  “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

  The Antiagon smiled, if briefly. “Some do remember courtesy.”

  His accent was so heavy that it took Quaeryt a moment to catch his words and reply. “We try … when we can.” Quaeryt crossed the gangway and then stopped short of the captain. “I’m Commander Quaeryt.”

  “Sario A’Basiol, sir.” />
  “I would that we were not meeting this way, Captain, but matters are urgent. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but speed is necessary. The late Autarch dispatched several ships to attack the Telaryn forces in Kephria under the command of Lord Bhayar’s sister.”

  For a moment the captain did not react, but then Quaeryt caught the slightest swallow.

  “The lady is also my wife,” Quaeryt added, speaking slowly and as clearly as possible. “Whatever happened is not your fault, and I will not hold it against you. Failing to make the best speed possible, I will. I have some experience at sea. I was a junior quartermaster for several years.”

  The captain inclined his head. “I appreciate the explanation. I understand your concerns. We will do our best.” After a moment, he added, “My quarters are yours, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded in return. He just hoped he could make it to those quarters before his legs gave out.

  69

  Once the Zephyr cleared the harbor of Liantiago on Vendrei, Quaeryt allowed himself to sleep. He didn’t do much besides sleep, occasionally eat, and even more occasionally check the ship’s heading and progress until after noon on Samedi. His sleep was interrupted often by the same thought-Why didn’t you think that Aliaro would retaliate? How could he have known that Kephria was just the first city you planned to attack?

  When he finally felt stronger and more lucid, but no less guilty and worried, and fearful that he might have lost Vaelora through that stupidity, he sent for Zhelan, in order to begin planning for whatever eventualities they might encounter on the voyage or when they reached the waters off Kephria and Ephra.

  “You’re looking better, Commander,” were Zhelan’s first words when he entered the cabin, a space that was far more modest than the captain’s quarters on the Montagne, but then, those quarters had been designed to serve Lord Chayar, if necessary, not that Bhayar’s father had used them more than once, on a voyage from Tilbora back to Solis, as Quaeryt recalled.

  “I think that means that you think I’ll recover fully in time,” replied Quaeryt, gesturing to one of the chairs around the small oblong table at which he had earlier seated himself. “What do you think of the captain and the crew?”

  “I’m no seaman, but they seem to be doing their best. I did tell the captain you wanted to be told of any ships the lookouts sighted, no matter what the glass of day or night.”

  “Good. Thank you. How is first company holding up?”

  “We’re down to eighty-one men, and that includes five with broken arms, and one with a broken leg. That doesn’t include the undercaptains or the captive imager.”

  “That’s not too bad,” said Quaeryt dryly, “considering what I’ve asked of them.”

  “What do you plan for when we reach Kephria?”

  “I have the feeling that we won’t find much there. I can’t imagine that Aliaro’s imagers and the guns on his warships have left much of either Ephra or Kephria, and probably not much of Geusyn. I only hope that Vaelora and Baarl-and Khaern and Calkoran and their men-if they managed to reach Geusyn-could withdraw without horrendous casualties.” Quaeryt shook his head. “I just didn’t think. Aliaro just thought it was another attack on Kephria, and that Bhayar was repeating what Kharst did.”

  “Not everyone looks as far out as you, sir.”

  “Thank you. That’s a polite way of saying that it’s stupid to assume someone knows what you’re going to do when they have no way of knowing. And you’re right. It was stupid. Now … all I can do is hope, and try to make sure that the Antiagons don’t cause any more damage because of my idiocy.”

  Zhelan nodded.

  Quaeryt smiled wryly. “You’re a good officer and a good man, Zhelan. You’ve saved my ass and that of the men on more than a few occasions.”

  “I’ve saved your pride, sir, and you’ve saved the men more times than I’d like to count.”

  “You’ve saved them as well. Now … my thoughts are that we really don’t want to fight anyone. I’d just as soon sink the Antiagon ships and let it go at that. The problem is that the ships may not be there, and the imagers may be. If neither is there, all we can do is pick up the pieces.” And hope that we have some vestiges of a force left … and Vaelora. Please let her be there. “I’d like your thoughts.”

  “I assume you or the other imagers can use concealments for the Zephyr…”

  “We can, but a fast-moving schooner will leave a wake longer than we could extend a concealment, unless we’re headed directly toward them. With three or four vessels…”

  Quaeryt and Zhelan talked for close to a glass. Then Quaeryt had more watered lager and some biscuits and a bit of hard cheese.

  After that, Khalis asked for a quint or so with Quaeryt, and he entered the cabin with Lhandor and Elsior. The three of them settled into two chairs on the other side of the oblong table, with Elsior on a stool between them.

  “Before we start, sir … later … Horan wants to talk to you alone.”

  “Anytime,” Quaeryt agreed. There wasn’t much else he could do at the moment, although he felt much stronger than he had a day earlier, not that he was up to doing any imaging.

  “Right now, Elsior has something to say,” offered Khalis.

  “Go ahead,” Quaeryt said slowly … and gently.

  “Are we sailing to Bovaria?”

  “We are. It is now part of Telaryn.”

  “The others, the undercaptains, they say that they are free.”

  “They are as free as the other junior officers. No more. No less.”

  “They are paid?”

  “The same as other undercaptains.”

  “You taught them to be better imagers.”

  “As well as I could.”

  Elsior’s questions-and Quaeryt’s answers-went on for almost a quint. Then, abruptly, he said, “I would like to be one of them.”

  “I am flattered,” replied Quaeryt, “but might I ask why you have decided so quickly?”

  “I have been afraid all my life. They are not afraid.”

  “We all fear the dangers of battle, and the dangers of imaging.”

  “That is a different fear.”

  Quaeryt couldn’t argue with that. He nodded and waited.

  “I had feared … if I offered allegiance to you … then Aliaro’s imager assassins would track me across all Lydar.” Elsior’s eyes dropped. “They say you will have a place for imagers, a place where they will be free.”

  “As free as they are now. It will be a place that is part trooper and part school.” Quaeryt decided not to try to explain more. Not at the moment. “It will be in Variana.”

  “I would like that.”

  So would we all … if matters were but that simple. “Is there anything else, Undercaptains?”

  “Could you tell us what comes next, sir?” asked Lhandor.

  “I wish I knew. We have to see what happened in Ephra and Kephria, and deal with the Antiagon imagers Aliaro sent out … if we can. If we can’t, we have to reestablish a presence in what’s left of Kephria or Geusyn.” Quaeryt offered a shrug. “We just have to see. I’ll let you know as I know.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  After the three Pharsi left, Horan eased through the cabin door.

  Quaeryt motioned for him to sit down, then took several long swallows of the watered lager, not as good as that which he imaged, but he wasn’t about to try any imaging yet, although his headache was almost gone, and the flickering flashes of light no longer interrupted his sight.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quaeryt waited.

  “Sir … I don’t know as I can do this … imaging … anymore.” The burly imager took a deep breath. “When the whole palace came down … you know … there were bodies everywhere. There was this school … the walls just came apart … One of them … she was a girl … a little girl … and she looked like my daughter … There was a boy, too…” Horan shook his head. “There were
others…” He looked helplessly at Quaeryt.

  “Imaging is one thing when it’s directed at troopers. It’s another when it hurts children and the innocent. Is that it?”

  “Yes, sir … except … no, sir … there were so many bodies there.”

  “There were far more bodies outside Variana,” Quaeryt said quietly.

  “But … they weren’t children … she could have been my daughter…”

  Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder about Vaelora-and the unborn daughter she carried. What if she and Vaelora died because of your mistake?

  “Sir…?”

  “I’m sorry. I do understand. I don’t know what to say.” Quaeryt paused, thinking. Finally, he went on. “I won’t ask you to do anything against others … but until this is settled, could I ask you to stay with us and to provide shields? That would not harm others, and it would keep troopers and officers from greater harm.”

  Horan took a deep breath. “I could do that, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “I will request, if anyone asks, to tell them that you asked about your future duties and that we discussed them.”

  “Yes, sir. I can do that.”

  After Horan left, Quaeryt looked blankly at the closed cabin door.

  70

  By Solayi morning, the first day of Maris and, by the calendar, the first day of spring, Quaeryt felt far better, and could even hold light shields for a quint or so before having to drop them and rest. The weather remained the same, sunny and cool, with a wind out of the northwest that allowed fair speed and only moderate swells. Lundi was no different, and since his legs were steadier, Quaeryt had pulled on his riding jacket and stood on the low sterncastle beside Captain Sario, his eyes scanning the horizon, even though he knew that the lookout aloft would most likely see the sail of another vessel long before he did.

  “How long have you been captain and master of the Zephyr?” asked Quaeryt conversationally.

  “I have been captain for three years.” Sario offered a tight smile. “I cannot say I am master, for the ship belongs to the family.”