Cyador’s Heirs

XLII

Altyrn and Lerial and their squads and wagons are up even earlier on threeday, preparing to leave well before sunrise.

“What about the lances, Majer?” asks Kusyl. “When should we start riding with them?”

“Not now,” replies Altyrn. “If we run across raiders, sabres should be enough. If things change, we can get to them quickly enough.”

“There won’t be many raiders near the Verd,” adds Seivyr, who has appeared from somewhere in the low light. “Came to see you off, Majer.”

“That’s appreciated, Seivyr.” Altyrn pauses, then adds, “You know … there have been reports of Afritan armsmen. I wouldn’t be surprised if you might not get some sort of night attack. I’m just an old careful majer, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure the gates are closed at night for a while. And that they stay locked.”

“I’ve been thinking that myself.”

“You wouldn’t want any trouble that way. It’s easy to overlook an unbarred gate or one with a slipped bar.”

Altyrn looks from Seivyr to Lerial. “You’ll ride with Kusyl and his squad.”

“Yes, ser.”

As the majer has ordered, the squads ride out through the gates before the sun even peeks over the horizon, with Altyrn leading the way beside Juist. The road west from Tirminya looks no different from the road into the border town, just a dirt track running through barely rolling hills and paralleling the north side of the Wooded Ridges. While there are groupings of growers’ steads, either around springs or small streams, it appears to Lerial that most of those living at the south end of the grasslands that, according to the maps, stretch close to two hundred kays to the north-northwest are herders of some sort, mostly of sheep, although he does see an occasional herd of cattle, but no goats.

Is the absence of goats because they tend to destroy the grass? Lerial doubts that, suspecting that the reason is merely that either sheep or cattle pay more for the herders.

Once the column is on the road west, and all the Lancers and wagons are in order, Lerial turns in the saddle and says to Kusyl, “I haven’t seen that many Lancer posts. Just Lancer headquarters and the posts at Teilyn and Brehaal … and now Tirminya. How does Tirminya compare to others?”

“Some are better. Some worse. Both Seivyr and Whalyn are good undercaptains. Seivyr’d make a good post captain. Rankers are mostly solid, even the replacements that rode with us.” Kusyl pauses, seeming to gnaw at his upper lip for a moment. “Place like Tirminya is hard on the rankers. Have to watch the men close.”

Especially the squad leaders do. Lerial doesn’t say that, knowing it wouldn’t be right, in some fashion. “Because it’s so far from everywhere?”

“Partly. Also because there’s no real backup. That’s one reason why a post like Tirminya has five squads instead of four, and two undercaptains instead of one.”

“Did any of the squad leaders at the post say much about raiders or poachers … or Afritan armsmen?”

“They’ve seen some, mostly to the north, but sometimes to the west. Usually not more than a squad.” Kusyl paused. “Come to think of it, Gaehorn said he’d never seen more than a squad at a time.”

Lerial asks questions intermittently for almost a glass before Altyrn rides back and orders him, if quietly, to ride forward and take the lead position with Juist and his squad. That alone tells Lerial that the majer doesn’t expect trouble any time soon.

Once Lerial has ridden beside Juist for a time, he asks the same sorts of questions of the older squad leader as he had of Kusyl, and then listens. The answers are similar, except in one case.

“… got the feeling that there haven’t been as many poachers and raiders from the north lately,” Juist says. “Might be because the Afritans have some patrols going. More than they used to.” He looks to Lerial. “You have any thoughts on that, ser?”

“I do know that there have been more Afritan armsmen lately just north of Penecca. They might be trying to weaken us by keeping Lancers from being moved south to deal with the raiders from Heldya. There are more Heldyan forces on the east side of the river recently.”

“Friggin’ Heldyans…” murmurs Juist, almost under his breath. “Begging your pardon, ser.”

“I don’t think the majer’s all that fond of them, either. He hasn’t said anything, but I’ve gotten that impression.”

“No one with brains would care for them, not from what I’ve seen.”

“Have you had to fight them?”

“Only once. Saw one of them cut the throat of his own wounded. Man had a broken leg, and his mount was down. Could have lived. Grabbed his wallet, too.”

“That sounds like a raider.”

“It wasn’t. Heldyan squad leader.” Juist shakes his head.

After another half glass, Altyrn returns, then motions for Lerial to ride with him, well ahead of the squad. Lerial eases the gelding forward, wondering what the majer has in mind.

“I’ve not been neglecting you,” Altyrn says. “I wanted to learn what Juist and Kusyl saw and learned while we were at Tirminya post. Did you talk to them about that?”

“Yes, ser. I mean, I asked what they thought of the post because I hadn’t seen that many…” Lerial goes on to relay what he has learned.

When he finishes, the majer nods. “Good. You need to talk to them often, but not just for the sake of talking. Never be familiar, and never condescending.”

Lerial does not point out that the majer has said that to him before. Several times, in fact, but that indicates to him how important Altyrn feels that advice is.

“What did you think of Captain Dechund?” Altyrn’s voice is pleasant.

Lerial detects no strain or chaos around the majer and decides on an accurate, but cautious reply. “There’s something about him that concerns me, but I couldn’t say why exactly. Then, it might just be the business about his not knowing about Afritan patrols. Both Kusyl and Juist heard about patrols from the squad leaders at the post.”

“You’re being cautious.”

“Yes, ser. I don’t have the experience to take risks about things I don’t know enough about. Especially when I don’t have to.” He manages a rueful grin as he looks at Altyrn.

“You’re right. For now. But you won’t always be in that position, you know?”

“I know, ser, but I can hope I’ve learned more by the time I have.”

“You just might.” Altyrn chuckles. “Now, let me tell you what I know about the land and the people in this part of the north valley…”

Lerial listens, but not for long, because in little more than a third of a glass, a scout gallops back along the dirt road from a low rise roughly half a kay ahead. The scout turns his mount to ride alongside the majer. “There’s a squad of Afritan armsmen up ahead, ser. Just beyond the rise. They seem to be waiting for us.”

“Could there be more concealed somewhere?”

The scout considers, then says, “Be hard to do that. Over the rise there, the land’s flat as a table for more than a kay in any direction.”

“They haven’t used the rise for cover or for position. That suggests they want to talk. Still…” Altyrn turns to Juist. “Ready arms.”

“Ready! Arms! Pass it back!”

“Do you think they’ll attack?” asks Lerial as the scout heads forward to join the other Lancer who waits where the road reaches the top of the rise.

“Anything’s possible, but I don’t think so. The squad leader is in a difficult position. If he lets us pass without asking what we’re doing, he’ll be censured or worse. If he attacks, he might be killed, and he’d certainly lose most of his squad, if not all of it. If he threatens, he can’t back it up, unless he’s been sent out ahead of an entire company. And if that’s the case, we’ll just politely agree and alter our plans. I don’t think that’s likely, but we’ll have to see. They wouldn’t pick an area with no cover unless we’ve surprised them. That suggests the squad is more for reconnaissance or to show Atroyan’s banner.”

“Belatedly trying to establish what he believes are his borders?”

“Atroyan’s often been belated in his actions … and that can be dangerous for everyone.”

Once Altyrn and Lerial ride over the top of low ridge, Lerial can see the squad of Afritan armsmen, who wear the dull crimson tunics that Lerial remembers, but not the iron breastplates. The troopers are drawn up some three hundred yards west on flat ground. Lerial is surprised to see that one of the Afritan armsmen does in fact bear a banner, although in the quiet air it droops against the staff, and Lerial cannot make out the design, only that the narrow banner is the crimson of Afrit.

A single armsman rides forward to meet them, reining up some twenty yards from the two scouts, now only a few yards before Altyrn.

“Column. Halt,” the majer orders. “The undercaptain and I will meet the Afritan squad leader.”

Once the Lancers have halted, Altyrn nods to Lerial, and they move forward. The majer reins up several yards short of the Afritan. “Greetings, Squad Leader.”

“Greetings.” After a pause, the squad leader says, “Do you plan to cross into Afritan lands?”

“We do not,” replies Altyrn. “According to the maps sent to Duke Kiedron by Duke Casseon, the lands to the west and south of Tirminya belong to Duke Casseon. We’re on a trade mission to some of the forest towns located within those borders.”

The squad leader nods. “Might I inquire as to what towns, ser?”

“Apfhel, and then Verdell. After those, that depends.” Altyrn smiles politely. “I am most certain that Duke Atroyan would not wish you to trouble yourself with a mere two squads and an old majer doing his best to do a job that any bright captain could do.”

Lerial can easily sense the confidence behind Altyrn’s words … and the slight emphasis on “two squads.”

“We’re just patrolling the border, ser. There have been reports of poachers.”

“That is true … although I believe you have strayed a bit farther south than the accepted borders of Afrit, and that might upset Duke Casseon. I do appreciate your concerns, though. Most poachers have come from the north, and Duke Kiedron will be pleased to learn that Duke Atroyan takes his responsibilities so gravely that you are patrolling so diligently. We, of course, are relieved of the burden of dispatching them.” Altyrn smiles once more. “Although my men do appreciate the opportunity to use their weapons, there is little satisfaction in dealing with mere ruffians.”

For a moment, the Afritan squad leader frowns. Then he nods. “We wish you a successful mission. We will be on our way.”

“We wish you well,” replies Altyrn.

Both Lerial and the majer watch as the squad leader rides back to his men, and they turn and hard north along a narrow path that cannot really be termed a road.

“Do you think they’ll set up an ambush?” asks Lerial in a low voice.

“No. Half the men in his squad are scarcely older than you are. He just wants to send a dispatch saying that he stopped us and warned us … and be able to report what we said we are doing.”

“I don’t think he expected to come across two squads here.”

“No. He didn’t. That might affect your father as well.”

“You think he might consider attacking Penecca because he thinks there aren’t as many Lancers there?”

“That’s possible. It’s also possible that he might have to consider putting more armsmen here and away from the north border nearer the river. There’s also the problem that it will be days, maybe an eightday, before Atroyan finds out. He also can’t be certain that we’ll be doing what we said we were.”

Which we aren’t … or not exactly. Lerial can see how important it is not only to know what has happened, but to be able to judge what will happen … and he wonders if he will ever have that kind of skill in judgment. Lephi won’t. That’s for certain.

Altyrn looks at Lerial. “That’s a very serious expression on your face.”

“I was just thinking about how my father has to decide what to do when he only knows what happened days before.”

“An effective ruler is one who can determine what others will do before they do it.”

Lerial considers those words. He can anticipate where an opponent’s blade will be before it is there, but is there any way his skills with reading order-chaos flows can help him anticipate what others will do in other areas … or over time?