Scholar

88

Quaeryt’s homily was well-received on Solayi night, and Rescalyn had seemed pleased, even with the words about the intervention of the Nameless to prevent complete disasters. Lundi morning was warmer. The wind had died down, and Quaeryt managed to wash the worst of the mud and blood off the one set of his trousers and tunics and hang them up in the barn, hoping that they would dry before the regiment moved on-whether against Zorlyn or back to Boralieu.

He did spend some time, when he retreated to a quiet corner of the loft, studying the quarrel he had retrieved days earlier, and practicing some different types of imaging, beginning with imaging shafts of straw into barn beams, so that they protruded. Even if someone had been watching, it would have been highly unlikely that they would have seen a straw seemingly appear stuck to the ancient wood, not in the middle of a hayloft.

After that, he checked the mare, thought, talked about matters with Meinyt, and fretted.

Just before supper on Lundi evening, Skarpa appeared in the barn holding Sixth Battalion. “The governor’s called an officers’ meeting.” His eyes went to Quaeryt. “That includes you, scholar.”

Quaeryt inclined his head.

“I don’t think it’s good,” added the major.

“I wouldn’t expect so. The hill holders have regarded themselves as beyond anyone’s law but their own for far too many years.”

“Why did he even send a message, then?”

“So that, after we’ve destroyed Zorlyn and a few more holders totally, he can make an offer again for those few remaining.”

“They could just abandon their holds and wait him out,” pointed out Skarpa.

“Do you really think so? You’ve told me how hard the winters are. Second, no one’s ever succeeded in carrying this kind of war to them before. They don’t really believe it can be done. They’ve been too isolated, and they’ve never dealt with someone who has the skill, determination, and the number of trained troops that the governor has. Even so, he’s just starting the destruction. He’s counting on the winter to largely finish it.”

Skarpa nodded slowly. “I need to tell the other officers. We’re to meet immediately.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

The two walked toward Gauswn, some twenty yards away, standing back from the east doorway.

Quaeryt said nothing more as Skarpa gathered his officers, and they all walked to the meeting-in the same chamber where Rescalyn had received Quaeryt the day before. Once all the officers had appeared, the governor entered the room. He wasted little time on greetings of formalities.

“As I reported to all of you yesterday,” he began, his voice shorn of the heartiness it so often possessed, “I sent a courier with escorts to Holder Zorlyn. My message offered an amnesty for those hill holders who had not taken up arms against Telaryn, provided they swore allegiance to Telaryn and its lord and provided that they paid tariffs equal to the rates of other High Holders, with an addition of two parts in ten for the next several years.” Rescalyn paused, then went on. “We received a reply less than a glass ago. The courier and his escorts were returned … and released three milles from here. When they reached our camp, two escorts were dead, strapped to their mounts; two were alive but wounded; and the courier was alive-but with a letter pinned to his chest with a knife.…”

Quaeryt felt like wincing. The idiots … the absolute, boar-headed insufferable egotistical sow-slutted … They’re playing the plaques exactly as he had planned they would. And yet, there was no real proof, only his suspicions. Was he justified in planning what he did with only what he knew and sensed? And yet, waiting too long would create another problem.

“I will read you the letter,” said Rescalyn, coldly. He cleared his throat.

“To the one called governor-

“The message you sent is an insult to Tilbor. It is also an insult to any self-respecting Tilboran, let alone to a holder whose lands have remained self-governing in his family for generation upon generation. Not even the most absolute of the Khanars ever insisted upon such outrageous tariffing. Nor did they bring in foreign scholars to change the way those who received their education at the Ecoliae were taught. Nor did they elevate mere crafters and merchants to the levels of those who have stewarded their lands wisely for all these many generations. After such acts, then for you to attempt to destroy all those who stand up for their time-honored rights and traditions is an even greater outrage, and one for which you and every man in your regiment will perish.

“There can be but one reply to such ignorant arrogance and such self-serving egotism … and that is the reply you receive. I spare those whom I have returned solely so that you may know that I indeed am the one who sends this message…”

Rescalyn paused. “The courier and the two surviving ranker escorts told me that Zorlyn himself personally read them these words in the great hall of his hold, before two of them were cut down, and the others were maimed.”

Rescalyn let the silence speak for him. Only after it became oppressive did he speak again. “I have offered amnesty and mercy twice. It has been spurned in the cruelest way. We will begin destroying this hold at dawn tomorrow. We will ride out by sunrise.” He paused but momentarily before saying, “That is all. Pass the word to your men.” This time, he stood silently as the officers, and Quaeryt, filed out.

As he walked back to the barn, Quaeryt couldn’t help but admire Rescalyn’s planning and understanding of the hill holders.