Rex Regis

40

By midday on Samedi, Quaeryt, riding with Calkoran’s company, was some ten milles north of Yapres under a sun that seemed just short of blistering. The road remained as good, if not better than it had been coming into and leading into the town. Quaeryt couldn’t help wondering if that was at least partly because the distance from Variana was great enough that Kharst wouldn’t have known the condition was better? Or because he had seen little point in marching troopers hundreds of milles over bad roads to get to good ones?

As a matter of caution, he’d also instructed Zhelan and Calkoran, whenever they were in the rear, to maintain scouts a good half mille behind the squad acting as rear guard both to avoid any surprises, and in case Deucalon had sent another courier. He also instructed the scouts forward of the vanguard to pull back if they saw any Telaryn riders approaching so as to allow them closer to the lead squads. Quaeryt could only hope that would give his forces a chance to capture such dispatch riders or Telaryn scouts before they turned and galloped back to Rivages to report to Myskyl.

“The road’s really good,” said Zhelan. “It’s like we’re in another land.”

At Zhelan’s remarks, Quaeryt almost froze in the saddle. Another country? Maybe that’s exactly what most of the High Holders here believe. Was that another reason why Tyrena had traveled to Variana to petition Bhayar to hold on to control of her lands for her daughter? That certainly fit with what Quaeryt had learned from Laedica and Daalyn. But Myskyl can’t believe that Bhayar would let him set up his own land.

Quaeryt shook his head. Myskyl didn’t have to believe that. He only had to persuade the High Holders and factors of the north that their only chance for continuing their privileges and power was to back an overthrow of Bhayar-and Quaeryt and the imagers. And you’ve played right into that by disciplining High Holders and factors for their high-handed ways-except those high-handed ways are exactly what they’ve always done and what they believe is their due.

If that was what Myskyl and Deucalon were doing … he had to admire their strategy, but it raised even more questions about exactly what he could do to thwart it-and them-without destroying the regiments Bhayar needed to unite Lydar.

“What is it, sir?” asked Zhelan.

“I was just thinking. Your point about the north of Bovaria being a different land may be truer than you thought.”

“Do you think that’s because of the High Holders?”

“They’re at least part of the problem. I doubt they’re all of it, but they could be. We’ll just have to see.” And Quaeryt wasn’t looking forward to that.

About a glass later, Quaeryt saw all three scouts heading back toward first company at a good pace-a moderate canter, he thought. “Trouble of some sort ahead … or dispatch couriers.”

“It could be both,” suggested Zhelan.

“You’re cheerful,” said Quaeryt sardonically.

“It is Bovaria, sir.”

“You would remind me of that.” Quaeryt laughed.

In less than half a quint, the lead scout had reined up-just after Quaeryt ordered a halt.

“Sir! Three Telaryn riders headed this way. We saw them as we came over that rise and pulled back. They didn’t see us. They kept riding, anyway.”

“Were there any riders behind them?” asked Quaeryt. “A squad? A company?”

“Didn’t see any, sir. No road dust behind them, either.”

“Good. Scouts, move back of the head of the column.” Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Undercaptains. Khalis! Raise a concealment shield across the road so that it looks empty. Elsior, stay and support Khalis. Lhandor, you come with me. Major, send a man back to request Subcommander Calkoran join you. I’ll need five rankers to follow us. They’ll have to stay behind us so the riders won’t see them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt gestured to Khalis, then raised his own concealment shield as he urged the gelding forward at a fast trot, in order to be as close to the rise in the road as possible, just in case the Telaryn riders from the north saw dust or something else that would cause them to turn once they rode over the low rise whose crest was still a good two hundred yards ahead. Five rankers from first company fell in behind Quaeryt and Lhandor.

“Do you think they’ll try to ride away, sir?” asked Lhandor.

“Don’t you?”

After a moment the undercaptain nodded. “They’ll have been given some believable reason to avoid any other Telaryn forces. Just like the other courier.”

Quaeryt and his small party had covered a little over a hundred yards when he caught sight of a rider in a Telaryn uniform, then another. “Off the road … on me,” he ordered quietly, but firmly. “We’ll try to let them pass, so that they’re caught between us and first company.” With that, Quaeryt guided the gelding off the road and turned him to face the road, his head about two yards from the outer edge of the shoulder. “A line along the road, even with me.”

Once the five were lined up, Quaeryt turned to Lhandor. “You’ve practiced putting shields around others, right?”

“Yes, sir … if they’re not too far away.”

“I may need some help with that.”

“I can do that, sir.”

“Good. Quiet now.”

Quaeryt and his men waited. In a sense, he could see that the scene would have looked surreal to an observer, at least one who could have seen through the concealment shields. Seven men in Telaryn uniforms lined up on the east side of the road, the woods at their backs, facing the river concealed largely by the high undergrowth on the west side of the road, while a courier and two escorts rode south, oblivious to those waiting and watching.

The dispatch courier frowned as he neared where Quaeryt and his men waited behind their concealment shields. Abruptly, less than five yards from Quaeryt, he reined up and studied the road. Then he shook his head. “I don’t like this. There’s something here. It looks like tracks on the road. Riders heading into the woods over there.”

Somewhere, a horse made a whuffling sound, most likely one of the rankers’ mounts, thought Quaeryt.

The dispatch rider glanced at his escorts, then started to turn his mount, gesturing toward the north. “Someone’s waiting for us up ahead.”

Quaeryt dropped the concealment shield. “We are.”

“Ride!” called the courier.

Quaeryt imaged a shield barrier in front of the three retreating riders, anchoring the shields to the road itself. He winced as the three horses encountered the unseen barrier, but they were not moving that quickly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The courier turned his mount back toward Quaeryt and simultaneously reached for his sabre.

Quaeryt clamped shields around the courier, still holding the shield barrier as well. “Lhandor, use shields to restrain the escorts. I’ve got the courier.” He rode forward until he was beside the lead rider. “We’re not interested in hurting you, but you’re not going anywhere.”

The man swallowed as he took in the gold crescent moon insignia on Quaeryt’s uniform collar.

“By the way, I am Commander Quaeryt, and you will be accompanying us back to Rivages.”

The man’s brow furrowed, even as he tried to struggle against the unseen shields that held him. “Sir … I’m just a dispatch courier.”

“I know that. I’m interested in the dispatches you’re carrying.” And in your not letting anyone know who we are and where. Quaeryt reached out and unfastened the dispatch pouches from behind the courier’s saddle and slung them over the front of his own saddle. Then he eased the shields away from the man’s sabre, which he lifted from its scabbard. He looked to Lhandor. “How are you doing?”

“It’s easier than defending against Aliaro’s imagers.”

“Good.” Quaeryt looked to the first company rankers. “If you’d come forward and restrain them so that they can’t ride off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt and Lhandor held the three riders until they were conventionally immobilized, with rope and tethers.

“Everyone back to the main body,” ordered Quaeryt, releasing the confining shields, and turning the gelding back toward first company.

When they neared where Khalis and Zhelan had to be, Quaeryt called out, “You can release the concealment.” He couldn’t help but look back and see the surprise on the captives’ faces, but he said nothing.

Once he reined up beside Zhelan and Calkoran, who had clearly just arrived, Quaeryt said, “Major, have these dispatch riders held with the others. The men can take a break for water for a quint.”

When that had been accomplished, Quaeryt gestured, and the two senior officers joined him just off the shoulder of the road in the shade of an older oak. There Quaeryt opened the dispatch pouches. There were several personal missives in one of the pouches, which Quaeryt left, and a single sealed and official dispatch in the other, from which he removed the seal, by imaging, and began to read.

The first part of the document was the same as any Telaryn dispatch:

To: Deucalon Calonsyn, Marshal, Armies of Telaryn

From: Myskyl Sarronsyn, Submarshal, Northern Army

Date: 24 Avryl

Subject: Current Status

Tariff collections continue apace, and now exceed ten thousand golds, comprised of the token 100-gold levies required of High Holders, and to an equal degree, of the ten-gold factors’ tariffs. Because of the uncertainty of transporting such a large amount of golds, we await your instructions on when to do so and with how many troopers. I would suggest a battalion.

Modifications of the Northern Army headquarters are largely complete, and we await further orders.

From there, another page of details about the training of various regiments, as well as suggested promotions, once senior officers eligible for stipends were released.

Quaeryt found the next section, especially in a larger context, disturbing.

The negotiations with the High Holders and the others have proceeded satisfactorily, and I believe the results will be all that could be desired in dealing with those who have usurped the powers of the marshal …

Yet, he had to admit that, by itself, it was proof of nothing other than the fact that Myskyl was meeting with High Holders and others, all of which was certainly within the scope of the duties assigned to him and, in fact, in accord with what Quaeryt himself had suggested two seasons before. To keep Myskyl from making trouble in and around Variana.

As he lowered the sheets of paper, Quaeryt wanted to shake his head. And to think he’d actually recommended Deucalon as a regional governor.

“Sir?”

Quaeryt handed the dispatch to Zhelan. “You might find this interesting. Let Calkoran read it after you do.”

He waited as Zhelan and then Calkoran read the dispatch. When they finished, he asked, “What do you think?”

Zhelan nodded to Calkoran, clearly deferring to the older senior officer.

Calkoran’s smile was wintry. “Are you certain that the submarshal is not related to the former Rex of Bovaria? Is there no loyalty there?”

Myskyl and Deucalon are most loyal to gaining power for themselves. Rather than comment on Calkoran’s words, Quaeryt just addressed Zhelan. “Your thoughts?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I said it all smelled like overdead fish. I was wrong. The fish couldn’t smell this bad.”

“I’d like you both to think over ways to approach Rivages and the submarshal’s forces this afternoon, and we’ll talk after we settle the men in Ariviana.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt had his own ideas … and none of them were promising. He hoped the three of them could come up with something better.