Antiagon Fire (48 page)

“What about Khaern and the rest of Eleventh Regiment? How soon do you expect them to return?”

“It could be within the week. It could be two weeks. It depends on the winds and the sea state.”

“When do you want to start this assault? Tomorrow?” asked Skarpa dryly.

“I was thinking about Solayi morning. No one attacks on Solayi. Since Aliaro won’t be expecting anything so soon…”

“You think we can take Kephra more easily.”

“That’s the hope.” Quaeryt frankly harbored the thought that they might not encounter serious resistance until they neared Liantiago.
You’re assuming that you can even get that far with seven regiments against an entire land.

“You realize that we’re likely doomed if we don’t succeed,” Skarpa pointed out.

“We’re likely doomed if we do nothing,” replied Quaeryt. “That doom will just happen more slowly.”

“Would you take your two regiments alone into Antiago?”

“I’ll take all that I can, if I have to,” replied Quaeryt. “I am missing half a regiment and Calkoran’s battalion at the moment.”

“Why?”

“Because right now is the only chance we’ll have to do it right.”

“You can’t invade another country without killing thousands.”

“Exactly,” replied Quaeryt. “If we don’t invade Antiago now, someone will have to invade Khel and Antiago in the next ten years, and each invasion will cost more than our doing it now.”

“You don’t think the three lands could live in peace?”

“They never have. Even when they were supposedly at peace, there were raids and skirmishes. Every time one land has been markedly stronger than another, there was an invasion and a consolidation. It’s going to take place. The only question is when and how many lives it costs. You and Meinyt told me that one of the biggest dangers for a commander was waiting too long.”
You’re twisting that a bit, but …

“Meinyt’s always believed that.”

“Do you disagree?”

“I don’t disagree with his point, but we haven’t been given orders to invade Antiago.”

“No … but we have been given orders to obtain the allegiance of the High Holders, and we can’t even get a hold of them without invading Antiago. So we fail if we do nothing, and if we’re to succeed we end up invading Antiago one way or the other.”

“And…” Skarpa paused before adding, “You can’t get Khel to agree to terms without Bhayar having control over Antiago. So we’re both frigging screwed unless we start another war … and win it.”

“That’s the way I see it. What about you?”

Skarpa shook his head. “I’d like to find Deucalon in a dark alley and put a blade up under his ribs, but then we’d have to deal with Myskyl, and that wouldn’t be any better.”

“Worse, more likely.”

Skarpa abruptly turned to Vaelora. “Lady … you’ve been quiet. You’re Bhayar’s sister and an envoy. What do you think?”

Vaelora offered a sad smile, but did not speak.

Both men waited.

Finally, she spoke. “I think that if you do your best the war will be short and bloody. If you try to be kind and merciful in battle, it will be long and bloody, and more will die.”

“You sound like your father,” said Skarpa.

“How could I not? I’ve heard what he saw. I’ve seen what Quaeryt has done, and how worrying about what people think always makes things worse.”

Skarpa looked to Quaeryt. “The plaques are red. How do you want to proceed?”

“I’d like to scout the wall early tomorrow and meet with you when I get back. I don’t think we should tell any of the regimental commanders much beyond the fact that we expect heavy fighting on Lundi. It’s not as though we’ve got any way to scout Kephria, and even if we sent a spy…”

“It wouldn’t do much good.”

Quaeryt shook his head.
Not when you plan to bring down the wall.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. I need to think about a few things.” Skarpa paused. “I imagine you do, too.” He looked to Vaelora.

She took the hint and rose from her chair. “We all do, Commander. I appreciate your thoughtful questions, and my brother will appreciate all the concerns about what is in his best interests.”

“Rulers don’t usually appreciate much besides success,” said Skarpa as he and Quaeryt stood.

“That’s why you and Quaeryt will do what you must, and why I will support and aid you both as I can.”

Skarpa nodded. “Thank you, Lady.”

Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora spoke more until they had returned to their chamber.

Once Quaeryt had closed the door and slid the bolt, Vaelora looked at him. “What are you thinking this very moment, dearest?”

“About the entire future of Lydar being decided in the smallest plaques room in an old inn in a run-down town on the Laar River.” He shook his head. “What about you?”

“I’m angry with the High Council of Khel. They’re being stupid and shortsighted, and they should know better. I don’t expect more from Aliaro.”

“Especially after the way he treated Chaerila?”

“She was so sweet, and when she died giving birth to his child … and he remarried in less than a season and only sent a curt dispatch.” She shook her head. “Khel is too weak to hold out.”

“Was I too hard on Skarpa?”

“It’s something you two had to talk out.”

“He trusts you. That’s clear.”

“That’s because he’s a good judge of character.” Vaelora smiled, briefly.

“How do you think this campaign will go?”

“No matter what you do, it will be bloody. All wars are. The shorter the fighting is, the fewer people who will die.”

“And the more decisive and brutal the imagers and I will have to be.”

She nodded again. “But over the years fewer will die, and others will be happier. If you survive. You must survive, or all will be for naught.”

“Another farsight?”

“No … just an understanding of what must be.”

Quaeryt walked to the window, as if to look out, before realizing that the inner shutters were still closed.

“It’s dark. There’s nothing to see,” Vaelora said gently, walking toward the narrow table that served as a desk. “For all your words … you’re worried.”

“More than worried. I
know
that taking over Antiago will be for the best for everyone in the long run. People don’t think that way.”

“Dearest … remember what I said about Bhayar not being successful without you? This is one of those times. If he makes the decision to invade, everyone will know. It will take longer and cost more lives. If you do it…”

“Then he can claim brilliance if it works and blame us if it doesn’t.”

“You don’t need to keep going over it and over it tonight.”

“What would you suggest I do?”

“First … remember to lay out your uniforms so that I can have them all washed and fullered tomorrow.”

“All of them?”

“You know what I mean.” Vaelora then offered an impish smile that he knew was forced as she stepped away from the table toward him. “Read this, if you would, dearest?” She extended the copy of
Rholan and the Nameless
. “It might take your mind off what lies ahead.”

Quaeryt wasn’t certain that anything would, but he took the book. “It’s too dark to read.”

“You could light the lamp on the table.”

He did by imaging it into flame, then sat on the straight-backed chair and began to read at the place where Vaelora’s finger pointed.

Among the many conflicting stories about Rholan’s death was that of the man in gray who sought him on the days before he disappeared, and since the assassins of Estisle always wore gray, many speculated that young Hengyst had dispatched one. It is not beyond the pale to entertain that notion, but Rholan had enemies other than Hengyst, and most were far closer … including High Holder Doulyn of Douvyt, who had wed his half brother’s widow, and who had forbid her to ever meet with Rholan. While there is no record of the two meeting, there were rumors for years, although those died away quickly when Doulyn died of “bad food” less than a month after Rholan’s disappearance, especially when her only son by Doulyn became High Holder of Douvyt.

When he finished, Quaeryt looked up quizzically. “Why this passage?”

“Don’t you think it’s rather odd?”

“What?”

Vaelora offered an exasperated sigh. “Rholan’s death, her being forbidden to meet with him, and then Doulyn’s death.”

“You don’t think Doulyn’s death was an accident at all, do you?”

“Of course not. That’s not the point. The writer never mentions Thierysa’s name here, but she’s mentioned elsewhere. Doesn’t some of what’s written here seem strange?”

“Right now, everything seems strange.” He closed the book and handed it back to her. “I suppose all times are strange to those trying to change them. Rholan was successful in changing some things … and no one really knows who he was. Except for those long dead or the few that read this book.”

“I wonder if she loved him.”

“She didn’t marry him.”

“She couldn’t. Not without destroying her family. I’m fortunate.”

“I’m not so certain,” Quaeryt said slowly. “She couldn’t marry, even if she had wanted to, and we don’t know whether she did. You had to marry me so that I can make your brother ruler of all Lydar. Both of you had no choice.”

“But I discovered I could love you. She didn’t love Doulyn. Just the way the book is written makes that clear.”

“Then we’re both fortunate.” Quaeryt stood.

“We are.” Vaelora wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Quaeryt tried just to concentrate on her.

51

Two quints past seventh glass on Samedi morning, Quaeryt, Zhelan, the imager undercaptains—excepting Desyrk and Smaelthyl, who still remained with Meinyt in Laaryn—and a company from Nineteenth Regiment, led by Captain Maasn, reined up on the rutted and now disused section of road that had once led to Kephria, some two hundred yards north of the massive stone wall that ran from the rugged hills more than a mille east of the river, right to the edge of the water. Where the land wall and the shore wall met was a low square tower. The river’s waters lapped against the section of that sheer gray stone wall that ran a good half mille downstream from the tower before turning westward, where it extended some fifty yards out into the water, ending with a larger square stone tower that rose another five yards above the wall. For all its considerable length the top of the stone wall was uniformly ten yards above the road or the water. There were no gates or breaks in the stone, none that Quaeryt could see, at least.

As before, Quaeryt saw no sentries. He glanced from the wall to the chest-high brush between the road and the water at the odd assortment of buildings and roofs to the south on the far side of the river. Ephra still looked like a poor location for a port, and not a single ship was visible in its harbor. Even the piers used by the ferries returning to Geusyn were empty, although, Quaeryt supposed, that was to be expected in late morning.

Quaeryt turned to Zhelan. “Your thoughts, Major?”

“If you want quick passage, it’d be best if the imagers could topple the wall into the river. Be the Namer’s time getting over all the fallen stone otherwise. Unless you have the imagers smooth the way through the middle of the city.”

“There aren’t any dwellings or buildings on the higher parts of those hills to the east,” mused Quaeryt. “Usually folks with golds like the hills. Then again, this close to the border, I’d guess that they live farther south.” On the other hand, he’d also never heard of a wall stopping trade, and that suggested the heavy forest to the east concealed a myriad of narrow roads or trails that wound back through the hills. Given the modest level of prosperity in Geusyn, that trade had to run both ways, suggesting that the wall had never been built to stop trade, but to make the cost of acquiring Kephria higher than any Bovarian rex wanted to incur.

“The scouts never see anyone on the walls. Can’t believe that Kephria’s that busy a port.”

“It’s likely not. The autarchs built it to keep the city from falling into Bovarian hands.”

“When was it built, sir?”

“No one seems to know exactly, but one of the autarchs built it sometime early in the rule of Rex Haarl, Kharst’s father. That may have been why Haarl built the Great Canal. Or maybe Aliaro’s sire put up the wall to block access to Kephria after the Great Canal was built.”

“So they traded for centuries through Kephria … and then the Autarch built the wall? Why didn’t Kharst or his father just stop it or take it down?”

“That’s a good question. We likely won’t ever know why, but I’d guess by the time they learned about the wall, it was largely built, and they felt it wasn’t worth fighting a war over, especially in a place so hard to get an army to and so far from Variana.”

“Could it be that Kharst’s sire didn’t want his troopers that far from Variana?” asked Voltyr, who had eased his mount forward on Quaeryt’s left.

“That’s very possible.” Quaeryt looked past Zhelan to Maasn, reined up on Zhelan’s left. “Captain … if you’d send a squad east along the wall—as far as where it meets that rocky outcropping. We need to know if there are any breaks or gates in the wall—or anything unusual.”

“Yes, sir.” Maasn nodded and turned his mount.

While the captain moved off to give instructions to the patrol squad, Quaeryt turned to Voltyr. “What do you think about how to remove or breach the wall?”

“It might take less effort to rearrange the stone, rather than remove it,” suggested Voltyr.

Rearrange?
Then Quaeryt nodded. “That would also make our progress southward even faster.”

“You ought to have Threkhyl begin the imaging,” Voltyr went on. “He’s the strongest, besides you, at that. You want the Antiagons to be shocked and stunned.”

Quaeryt nodded, then watched as a squad moved away from Maasn’s company, heading eastward along a path that might have once been a lane, or a game trail. Then he turned his mare so that he faced the undercaptains and motioned for the others to ride forward and join him.

“I’d like all of you to study that wall. We may have to remove a large section of it and use the stone to pave a causeway through the city beyond.”