Imager’s Battalion

26

Just as the sixth bell struck on Jeudi morning, Quaeryt lowered his arm, and Fifth Battalion rode out of Caernyn. When the remaining two regiments left a glass later, Skarpa would be leaving a company behind, but half of those were effectively riding wounded who would provide a continuing Telaryn presence while completing their recovery.

The early morning sky was filmed with a silver haze that suggested another hot day in harvest would follow. Not that almost all days in harvest aren’t hot, sticky, and dusty, reflected Quaeryt. But then, Caernyn and the River Aluse, at least from Ferravyl to Variana, were only slightly north of Solis, and Solis had always been nearly unbearable to Quaeryt from midsummer to midharvest. At that recollection, Quaeryt thought of Vaelora, hoping that she would not suffer too much from the heat, although she did have the fountain garden at the palace, where he had first met her, and which was always much cooler.

Fifth Battalion reached Fauxheld somewhat after eighth glass. Two guards in peach livery awaited them and began to unlock the river road gates.

As they did, Quaeryt gathered the officers. “While the quartermasters are loading supplies, you can water the mounts down at the river, but the men are not to damage or remove anything. Once we’re loaded, we’ll be leaving.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply.

“Imager undercaptains will water their mounts first and then return to where I am at the holding buildings.”

The affirmation from the undercaptains was quick, but muted, and Quaeryt guided the mare to the side of the lane to let the undercaptains and Major Zhelan lead the battalion down to the river. Once they had passed, he led the wagons toward the hold house … and the storehouse beyond.

When he and the quartermasters and their supply wagons reached the paved area off the portico, he could see that Ghretana was waiting. She wore green trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a sleeveless vest of a green that matched the trousers.

Quaeryt reined up short of her. “Good morning, Lady Fauxyn. We won’t be long, and we’ll leave enough for the holding, with supplies at least until the end of harvest, if not longer.”

“I appreciate your consideration, Subcommander. We’re not likely to receive such from Variana. Rex Kharst has announced that he will take the lands of any High Holder who supplies the enemies of Bovaria.”

“Then we shall have to make certain that this part of Lydar remains Telaryn.” Quaeryt smiled.

“It appears that we have little choice.”

Quaeryt merely nodded, glancing toward the retainers. When he did not see the taller scarred man, he said, “There was a tall retainer … with a scar over his left eye?”

“Jaesyn … he took one of the boats and left soon after you did yesterday. That wasn’t surprising. I always thought he was one of Kharst’s men.”

“And Fauxyn did nothing?”

“He wasn’t in a position to complain about it, Subcommander.”

Before Quaeryt could ask why, she continued quickly. “My men noticed an odd matter after you departed yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“The gates were locked, and there was no sign of the locks having been severed or opened.”

“Nonetheless, we did open the gates, Lady Fauxyn. How is High Holder Fauxyn?”

“He should survive. He remains in considerable pain. It will do him good, given all he has inflicted upon others.”

“I take it that he was most successful with his blade in the past.”

“He was most polite to those who might have bested him, or who were favorites of Rex Kharst, and most adept at discovering those who were neither his equal nor favorites of the rex.”

“Then, if I might ask why…”

“He struck me when he thought no one was watching last spring in Variana. Kharst’s spymaster discovered that.” Ghretana shrugged. “I made certain, indirectly, that he would. Fauxyn was banished to Fauxheld as a result. He was also told that if I were touched, or if I died, so would he.”

“This spymaster sounds rather accomplished. Who is he?”

“High Holder Ryel. He is, obviously, not known widely as such. He is officially the minister of waterways.”

“You do not trust this Ryel, or you have not told me the truth.”

“Why would you say that?” She smiled winningly, the same smile that had chilled Quaeryt on the previous day.

“The information is too valuable to offer so freely.”

She shook her head, and the smile vanished. Her eyes turned icy. “The price for having that information conveyed unimpeachably to Kharst was high. Too high, except that it was the only way to save my daughter.”

“How old is she?”

“Nine. You will never find her. That I have made sure of.”

“Lady Fauxyn, I am not looking for her. I am here only for supplies.” Quaeryt decided to let the conversation take its course and see if it would reveal more of why Jaesyn had departed, not that Quaeryt didn’t already have a good idea why.

She frowned. “Might I ask who you are … truly?”

“I am a scholar and a subcommander, who discovered little more than a year ago that he was also Pharsi by birth. Those define who I am, Lady.”

“Chamyl-Fauxyn-says that you are not human, that you are a demon. His knives have never failed to strike an enemy.”

“Lady … one thing I have learned is that there is always someone of greater skill and ability … or of greater stature and power.” Quaeryt smiled wryly. “Even when there is not, there are enough curs to pull down the proudest stag. Perhaps … such as Jaesyn?”

“He is only the cur of a cur, and he will report that I have betrayed Kharst by not burning the hold to deny Lord Bhayar. So be it.” She paused, looking directly at Quaeryt. “What is your role in dealing with Bovarian High Holders?”

“The same as that of any other subcommander-to report on what we have seen.”

She nodded. “You are married, are you not?”

The shift in subject surprised Quaeryt for an instant, before he said, “I am, and far more fortunate in that than I ever dreamed.”

Ghretana’s eyes brightened, and they dropped for a moment, before she replied, “So, I imagine, is she.”

“We’re well matched for each other, especially for a marriage neither of us sought.” Quaeryt smiled. “Good day, Lady. Take care of your lands, for they are indeed yours to care for.” He turned the mare, then rode to the first supply wagon, gesturing for the teamsters to follow him to the warehouse he had inspected the day before. He could sense Ghretana’s eyes on his back, but he did not glance behind him as he rode down the stone-paved lane toward the storehouses, the wagons following him.

He also knew it was no accident that she had revealed the name of Kharst’s spymaster, and he concentrated on remembering the name-Ryel.