Antiagon Fire

30

By the time all six ships were secured along the stone piers at Kherseilles, the sun had dropped behind the hills to the west of the port. Although Quaeryt had sent out Zhelan with a squad to look into whether any factors or stables had mounts available … or if anyone knew about Bhayar’s purported arrangements, the two stables nearest the harbor knew nothing about such an arrangement-as Quaeryt had feared.

By the time Zhelan had returned, Quaeryt had decided against searching out suppliers of horses-or whoever might have the mounts that Bhayar had purportedly arranged for-until Samedi morning. He only told Vaelora that Zhelan had been unable to locate the mounts and that further efforts would have to wait.

Samedi morning dawned cool and foggy enough that when Quaeryt peered out one of the stateroom portholes he could barely make out the ships at the next pier. “It’s a good thing we made port last night. We’d still be out in the Gulf waiting for the fog to burn off.”

“You didn’t want to talk about the horses last night,” ventured Vaelora as she pulled on riding trousers.

Neither did you. “There wasn’t much to talk about. Zhelan couldn’t find anyone who knew anything. We both worried about that from the time we left Variana. But Bhayar brushed off my questions … and you know how he can be.”

“Yes, dear. I do know. I grew up with him.”

“I don’t think we’ll have much fortune in finding mounts for Eleventh Regiment.”

“What will you do?”

“What comes most unnaturally to me. Wait to see what happens while Zhelan looks into finding mounts. We might as well have breakfast.” He walked to the hatch to the passageway, where he tugged at the bellpull.

“You didn’t ask if I was ready.”

“I’m sorry. You looked ready.”

“You might have asked.”

“I’m sorry. I’m worried.”

Vaelora opened her mouth, then shut it. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to be so sharp with you. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Being with child, being hungry, being on a warship in a strange land trying to do things for your brother and your husband where more and more often matters are not proceeding as planned … those might have a little something to do with it. Just a little.”

Vaelora offered a faint smile. “They might.”

Moments later Nykaal arrived with the steward and breakfast. “Good thing we ported yesterday. The fog looks to be thickening. Sure sign of winter.”

“You sound almost cheerful about it,” said Quaeryt.

“No sense in complaining. The Nameless won’t do anything about it, and the Namer doesn’t care.”

“Spoken like a true captain,” replied Quaeryt, stepping back and letting the steward set platters and mugs around the circular table.

“Will it snow here, this far south?” asked Vaelora, waiting for the steward to set her platter down before seating herself.

“Probably not,” replied Quaeryt. “We’re about as far south as Solis, and we’re on the water. Fog and cold drizzle are more likely.”

“It’s chill as it is.” Vaelora cupped her hands around the mug.

Quaeryt hid a smile. The night before she’d been complaining about how hot she’d felt.

The way she looked at him suggested he hadn’t hidden the smile that well.

“What are your plans, Commander?” asked Nykaal.

“We’ll need to see how many mounts we can round up, and what we can learn about whether the High Council is presently gathered in Khelgror. I’m hopeful that we might get a report from Subcommander Calkoran.”

Nykaal nodded. “I had one of the ensigns check with the portmaster this morning. There weren’t any messages or dispatches.”

After breakfast Quaeryt met quickly and in turn with Zhelan, Khaern, and then the imagers. He dispatched Zhelan to continue looking into the possibility of finding mounts, listened to Khaern’s report on the regiment’s readiness, and told the imagers to stand by. Then he stationed himself on the upper deck, where he could see at least the nearer part of the pier while the fog continued to burn off … and to wait. Vaelora joined him for a time, then repaired to the stateroom. Quaeryt couldn’t blame her. The air was raw, and he wasn’t good company.

Almost another glass passed before he heard the sound of hoofs on the stone of the pier. Then he saw a squad of riders in Telaryn uniforms. Through the drifting fog, he couldn’t make out the officer at the head of the squad, although he had the feeling it might have been Arion. Even before the riders drew up on the pier opposite the gangway for the Montagne, Quaeryt was hurrying down the ladders to the quarterdeck.

As the officer walked up the gangway, Quaeryt recognized him. “Major Arion!”

“Subcommander…” Arion looked puzzled. “I did not see you … after the battle.”

The Pharsi’s accented Bovarian caught Quaeryt by surprise for just a moment, but he quickly replied in Bovarian, “It left me somewhat … whiter.”

“More like the lost son of Erion.” The major’s eyes went to Quaeryt’s collar insignia. “Excuse me, Commander.”

Quaeryt decided not to protest anything associated with being a lost one. Not at the moment. “It happened after you left for Khel. If you’ll come aboard, we can talk in the captain’s stateroom. He’s lent it to Lady Vaelora and me.”

“Your lady is with you?”

“Lord Bhayar appointed us both as envoys to the High Council.”

The dark-haired and black-eyed Arion smiled. “He was wise in that.” The smile faded.

Quaeryt led the way to the upper sterncastle and the captain’s cabin, then knocked before opening the hatch, a door really, but Quaeryt couldn’t help but think of it as a hatch.

Vaelora rose from where she had been writing at the circular table.

“Dearest, might I present Major Arion?”

Arion bowed deeply. “I am most honored, Lady.”

“It’s good to meet you, Major.” Vaelora smiled warmly. “My husband has spoken well and often of you and your abilities.”

“He may have been generous, Lady.”

“Kind, perhaps,” she replied, “but he is honest in his assessments of others.”

Quaeryt gestured to the table. “Please sit down.”

Once the three were seated, Arion glanced from Quaeryt to Vaelora, then smiled. “Since you are both envoys, I should report … and then deliver a message.”

“Please.”

“We suffered no attacks on the ride west, but we did not ride far toward Khelgror. We had barely left Kherseilles when a messenger from the High Council reached Subcommander Calkoran. The Council requested that we ride to Saendeol to meet with them.”

“Where is that?” asked Quaeryt.

“A week’s ride north and west of here, in the warm hills. It was the old winter meeting place of the High Council, back in the times of my great-great-grandmere. Even then, they did not like to meet in the winter ice and snow of Khelgror.”

“How long were you there?”

“More than two weeks before the subcommander dispatched us to await you.”

“It sounds as though he wanted to make certain we were met as soon as we arrived,” said Quaeryt. “Are … there difficulties? How has the Council received Lord Bhayar’s suggestions?”

“They have not shared their views on what Lord Bhayar proposed. They were less than kind to Calkoran for presenting them.”

“What did they expect? Is he all right?”

“Thank you for asking. He will be pleased that you inquired about him. He is in good health, but some have accused him of being a traitor, especially the … Selenorans.”

“Selenorans?” asked Vaelora.

“The believers in the moon goddess-Artiema. They believe Lord Bhayar is the agent of Erion, and that Artiema, and Khel, must never be hostage to the Great Hunter and lesser moon.”

Quaeryt shook his head. “Then they do not understand the world as it is.”

“Is not that why Lord Bhayar has sent you both?” Arion’s words were wry.

“It might have something to do with it,” Quaeryt admitted. “Matters have not gone as well as we might have wished. We were attacked by Antiagon ships on the way, and we’ve had a little difficulty in locating mounts.” Quaeryt kept his voice bland.

“That is not surprising. As soon as the High Council read Lord Bhayar’s message, they issued an edict forbidding the sale of any horses to anyone from Telaryn, Bovaria, or Antiago.”

“I understand why they might do that,” Quaeryt said. “I can also say that it might not have been the wisest of decisions.”

“They doubt that Lord Bhayar will soon send an army to Khel, not when he has not fully conquered Bovaria.”

“They’re right. He won’t. But he does not forget, and if he does have to send an army…”

“Calkoran suggested that. They did not believe him.”

“What do you suggest, Arion?”

“The High Council has agreed to meet you in Saendeol. I think you should do so. They have sent with me enough mounts for one company.” He paused. “And for the undercaptains.”

“We only brought four of them. The other four are in Bovaria with Submarshal Skarpa’s forces.”

Arion raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, I did bring Lhandor and Khalis, as well as Horan and Baelthm.”

The major nodded.

“When do you suggest we depart?” asked Quaeryt.

“When you are ready.”

“This afternoon at first glass?”

Arion smiled. “You do not wish to tarry.”

“Lydar cannot afford delays. Or other mistakes. Neither can Khel.”

“Then I will have the mounts here at noon. Did you bring saddles and riding gear?”

“We did.” Quaeryt stood. “Thank you for all that you’ve done. We look forward to talking with you on the ride to Saendeol and hearing what else you’ve learned.”

Arion rose quickly. “I do as well, sir. Until later, sir.”

Once the major left the Montagne, Quaeryt summoned Khaern and requested that Nykaal join them as well.

The ship’s captain arrived first, but only a fraction of a quint before the subcommander.

When Khaern entered the stateroom, he inclined his head first to Vaelora, then Quaeryt, and then Nykaal. “You requested my presence, sirs and Lady?”

“Please have a seat.” Quaeryt gestured to the vacant chair at the circular table. “You may have heard that we’ve had some difficulty obtaining mounts.”

“There’s been some word about that, sir.”

“You may also recall that Major Arion served under me before he was dispatched with Subcommander Calkoran to suggest an agreement with the High Council of Khel. He rode into Kherseilles a short time ago with his company. He informed me that the High Council has effectively prohibited the sale of any horses to anyone not serving the High Council. The Council is willing to provide us enough horses to mount up first company-and Lady Vaelora and the undercaptains-so that we may travel to Saendeol to meet with the Council.”

“If I might say so, sir, that doesn’t appear to be the most conciliatory of acts on the part of the Council.”

“That was my first thought,” replied Quaeryt. “Yet, from their point of view, landing two warships and troops in Kherseilles might not be considered terribly conciliatory, either.” He turned to Nykaal. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Captain?”

“You’re not going to make that strong an impression with one mounted company. On the other hand, I doubt that they can force us out of Kherseilles.”

“I wouldn’t want it to come to that, for a number of reasons. What are the arrangements for the merchanters?”

“Their contract is over once your troopers disembark, and they’ll leave on that night’s tide, I am more than certain.”

“And your orders?”

“Both the Solis and the Montagne are to support you for so long as you require.”

“Will that be a problem in terms of supplies?”

“No, sir.”

“Then it appears that our immediate course is set.”

Nykaal frowned, if briefly. Vaelora nodded.

“I have no mounts for Eleventh Regiment, and no way for Eleventh Regiment to return immediately to Ephra or Geusyn. We are charged with meeting with the High Council. They are amenable to meeting. So first company, when appropriate but as soon as practicable, will ride to Saendeol to meet with the Council. I’m planning on departing at first glass this afternoon.”

“With but one company?” asked Nykaal. “You can’t even be certain that the Khellan battalion won’t attack you if their Council decides you’re a danger.”

“They’ve seen what the commander can do, sir,” replied Khaern, “and they’re not stupid enough to bring his wrath down on them.”

Nykaal frowned. “But if they believe that…”

“Why doesn’t the Council?” asked Quaeryt. “Because no one believes much of anything until they get burned or watch someone else get burned, frozen, or otherwise destroyed. Some don’t even understand when they do see. Those are the ones who have to experience it firsthand … and too many of them don’t learn from the experience because they don’t survive it.”

Nykaal still wore a puzzled frown.

“Captain, there are forty thousand dead Bovarian troopers and officers,” said Khaern. “That doesn’t include a rex and most of his court. There’s scarcely a building left standing in a space three milles wide and a mille deep. You probably think I’m telling tall tales. I’m not. My men had to help bury all those bodies. So did the Khellan troops.”

“If you’re wondering why we didn’t do something like that to the Antiagon ships,” added Quaeryt, “there wasn’t any need to, and it’s better to save extreme measures for extreme situations.” He smiled. “Now … we need to discuss how you feel we should handle the Montagne and the Solis.”

“I’d prefer to have one at sea off the harbor at any time. The Antiagons have been known to sneak in vessels and fire them before they could raise sail.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. You and Khaern can work out details for what troopers you need aboard. First company, Lady Vaelora and I, and the imager undercaptains will be riding out at first glass. We will send dispatches, although I doubt that you’ll learn much until we reach Saendeol. Unless you have any questions, several of us need to ready ourselves for another ride.” Quaeryt glanced sideways to Vaelora, and the two of them rose.