Antiagon Fire (50 page)

Not even rebuilt from the fires set by Kharst’s imagers?

Farther south were dwellings and shops that had seen better days, and then the remaining intact warehouses, as well as a row of shops, a chandlery, and possibly an inn or two.

A courier galloped toward Skarpa, reining up. “Sir, Subcommander Meurn requests permission to continue.”

“Have him take the city. No one is to be harmed unless they attack or offer resistance.”

“Take the city. Harm no one unless they attack or resist. Yes, sir.” The squad leader nodded, then turned his mount.

Quaeryt watched for a moment as the foot troopers moved forward, followed by Dulaek’s mounted, and then by Fhaasn’s foot.

“Did you expect this?” asked Skarpa.

“I didn’t think there would be that many defenders. I told you that. I didn’t expect that there wouldn’t be any … or so few as to amount to none.” Quaeryt paused, then added, “The Antiagons have scarcely been using Kephria as a port. That’s what it looks like, anyway.”

“Waste of a good harbor.” The submarshal shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“In a way, it does.” Quaeryt readjusted his visor cap. Even in the chill of a southern winter, he tended to sweat where the edges of the cap met his head. “The autarchs wanted to keep Bovarian traders and trade out of Kephria. I’m guessing about that, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But why?”

“Most ships that likely once ported here were more interested in trading with southern Bovaria. I’d guess the Bovarians built the Great Canal to take advantage of that. Aliaro’s father was probably afraid that the Bovarians would take over Kephria, and he didn’t want more Bovarians here. So he built the wall to keep them out. The Bovarians couldn’t afford a war, or didn’t want to send an army that far from Variana. So they built Ephra, and most ships stopped porting here because they couldn’t pick up Bovarian cargoes.”

“He put up that huge wall to stop traders? How could he have known that Bovaria wouldn’t try to tear it down?”

“He didn’t. I’d wager that a regiment was probably posted here for at least several years. Long enough to discourage the Bovarians from bringing an army down here.”

Skarpa shook his head.

A glass later, another messenger, this one from Dulaek, reported that the port, such as it was, had been secured and that mounted squads from his fourth battalion were patrolling the streets. Shortly, thereafter, Meurn reported that the fort beside the main pier had surrendered.

“We might as well ride down there and see what the fort is like,” suggested Skarpa.

Only a handful of men were out, and all of them were graybeards or older, standing on porches or looking from open windows, watching as if they could not believe they were seeing the green uniforms of Telaryn riding through Kephria.

From a closer perspective, under the high thin overcast, Kephria looked even more tired than it had from a distance, everything seeming even grayer and worn. The southernmost pier, the main pier, looked to be the best, constructed of sold gray stone and extending close to five hundred yards out into the river … or the Gulf, since there wasn’t a clear demarcation of where one began and the other ended. Not a single craft was moored there, but Quaeryt could see several vessels under sail heading southwest, either out along the Gulf to the open sea or to Liantiago. Neither of the two nearest vessels, from their rigging, looked to be warships.

He reined up and studied the pier. The gray stone was worn, chipped, and stained, clearly weathered and old. The bollards were not only weathered, but the wood appeared wormy and rotten in places. The mooring spaces closer to the shore looked not to have been used in some time, and when Quaeryt looked more closely at the water, he could see why. The water there was less than a yard deep, suggesting that the inner part of the harbor had been silting up for years, if not decades.

Then he turned his attention to the fort, a square stone structure constructed on a raised knoll just south of the main pier. The walls formed three sides of a rectangle, with a small building with a slate roof comprising the rear east wall. The wall facing the river and the Gulf was only some twenty yards long. He couldn’t see how many cannon ports there might be, but he doubted there were more than half a score.

“I’m going to ride out on the pier for a moment,” he told Skarpa.

“Make it quick. You still could be a target.”

Quaeryt did strengthen his shields before he eased the mare down the center of the pier. He only rode out far enough to see the gun ports. At first he thought there were ten, but then he realized that seven of those appeared to be boarded up on the inside, although he wouldn’t have been able to tell that if he’d been much farther away. Shaking his head, he turned the mare and rode back to rejoin Skarpa.

“What did you see?”

“From a distance, there are ten ports. Seven are blocked.”

“A sham. Like everything else here.”

“It might not have been once.”

“They just fired at Bovarian ships to keep the Bovarians thinking that they had a large garrison here,” said Skarpa.

“Where are their real troopers?” asked Zhelan.

“They have to have some. We ran into a regiment’s worth of them on the way up the Aluse,” replied Skarpa. “Khaern said they had a regiment northeast of Hassyl.”

“That would make sense. That’s near the border with Telaryn,” said Quaeryt. “Aliaro might be relying on those Bovarian High Holders we chased into Antiago as protection here.”

“But why wouldn’t they have some troopers here?” asked Zhelan. “They built the wall.”

“Troopers cost golds. Antiago isn’t that rich a land.” Quaeryt was surmising from what he’d seen years earlier and from what he’d read. “The Lohan Hills are inhospitable and the southern coast is almost a high rocky desert. The area around Hassyl is fertile, and so are at least some of the lands from east of Suemyran to Liantiago. Most of the wealth comes from the sea, with their traders.”

“They’ll have troopers and Antiagon Fire when we near Suemyran,” predicted Skarpa.

“Not too much nearer, I’d wager,” replied Quaeryt. “Aliaro seems to have neglected this part of the north.”

“Kephria, anyway,” said Skarpa. “Once we’ve got everything settled here, we’ll need to talk to the people before we go any farther.”

Quaeryt couldn’t disagree with that.

53

By late Lundi afternoon, Kephria was firmly in Telaryn hands, and the Telaryn ensign flew from the tower at river end of the breached stone wall. Major Baarl and the half of Eleventh Regiment with Southern Army had taken over the patrolling duties, and Vaelora was installed in the best room in the one decent inn in Kephria, looking over Quaeryt’s shoulder as he attempted to draft a dispatch to Bhayar.

“I still worry about leaving you here,” he said, pausing for a moment.

“You need as many troopers as possible for what you’re doing. I’ll be just as safe here as in Geusyn,” insisted Vaelora. “And Major Baarl and you don’t have to garrison two towns. Besides, it won’t be that long before the
Montagne
returns with Subcommander Khaern and the other two battalions of Eleventh Regiment.”

Quaeryt did not dispute her logic, but he had misgivings about anything that hadn’t yet happened. Anything could delay the return of half of Eleventh Regiment … not to mention Calkoran’s understrength battalion. Still … he and the imagers had to accompany Skarpa, especially since the invasion of Antiago had been his idea, and sending Vaelora back to Variana would weaken their forces. In addition, the authority they were using—or misusing—was based on both Quaeryt and Vaelora having power as joint envoys.

Vaelora looked out the inn window, then turned to Quaeryt. “Why is it so run-down?”

“Idiocy,” he replied, realizing he hadn’t explained to her what he’d already suggested to Skarpa. “Most ships with trade for southern Bovaria likely once ported here. I’d guess the Bovarians built the Great Canal to take advantage of that. Aliaro’s father was probably afraid that the Bovarians would take over Kephria, and he built the wall to keep the Bovarians out. The Bovarians didn’t want or couldn’t afford a war and built Ephra, and most ships stopped porting here because they couldn’t pick up Bovarian cargoes.”

“It all doesn’t make much sense. The autarchs built a wall that ruined the port and then largely neglected the town, and Kharst tried to burn it down, and then Aliaro shelled Ephra?”

Quaeryt offered an ironic smile. “If all goes well, we’ll end up restoring Kephria, taking trade from Geusyn, and turning Ephra into a ruin. It should make everyone better off in time.”

“People don’t like to wait for better times.”

“They don’t like to pay for them, either.” He returned his attention to the document before him. “I need to finish this and have you read it … and make any changes you think necessary before I show it to Skarpa.”

“You think he’ll want to sign it?”

“We’ll all be blamed if things go ill. If they go well, he might as well get the credit.”

“He will get the credit, you know, dearest?”

Quaeryt nodded, then resumed writing. After a time, he laid the pen carefully on the folded paper serving as a pen rest and handed the sheet to Vaelora. “If you would?”

As she took it and began to read, Quaeryt rose and stood behind her, rereading what he had set to paper, concentrating on the paragraph following the flowery salutation and greeting.

… In your wisdom, you directed Submarshal Skarpa, as well as Lady Vaelora, and Commander Quaeryt, acting as your envoys to those not within the domains of Bovaria and Telaryn, to secure the border with Antiago and to obtain the allegiance of the High Holders of southern Bovaria. Rather than pledge allegiance, those holders defied Submarshal Skarpa and even refused to meet with Lady Vaelora, then fled into Antiago. To comply with your orders, Southern Army is pursuing these traitors as necessary. In attempting to assure the safety and loyalty of the south, we have undertaken a campaign that has, of necessity, required a greater extension of your power than originally anticipated. As a result, Kephria is now a part of your domains. It may be that other areas of Antiago will also need to be subdued and annexed so that the southern border of your lands will be forever secure, and we will continue to keep you informed of events as they transpire …

“Transpire?” asked Vaelora. “That sounds more like ‘expire.’ Why not just say ‘happen’ or ‘occur’?”

“‘Occur’ is better,” Quaeryt agreed.

“You also might explain that we gave the traitors every opportunity to meet and pledge allegiance over a period of more than a month.”

“That’s better.”

All in all, after another quint of discussion, Quaeryt took the document and sat back down to redraft it. Before he picked up the pen, he looked up at his wife. “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough, except I feel like I’m wearing small tents instead of clothing, and it won’t be that long before I’m wearing large tents.”

“You can scarcely tell, and you still look lovely.”

“I
still
look lovely? Does that mean you expect I won’t before long?”

Quaeryt hid a wince and was about to issue a heated denial—until he saw the smile in her eyes. “I should have said that you will always be lovely.”

“To you. Others may think differently.”

Quaeryt decided there was little point in pursuing that further. “Can you remember anything else about Aliaro? Anything at all you heard in Solis or that Bhayar or your father might have said?”

“I think I’ve told you everything I recall…” Vaelora frowned. “Oh … there is one thing. Daesn—he died last winter—he was Father’s envoy to Liantiago. He arranged Chaerila’s betrothal. He mentioned something about Aliaro’s imagers having to live in metal-lined chambers—”

“Cells, I imagine,” snorted Quaeryt.

“No. He definitely said chambers. He said it was because they were unhappy.”

Unhappy?
Abruptly Quaeryt understood … or thought he might.

“What is it?”

“Imaging is much harder in dealing with metal. If his imagers were unhappy, and they lived in metal-lined chambers…”

“They couldn’t image to harm the Autarch.” She frowned. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep them away from the palace?”

“Why do you think all the imagers report to me?” he asked.

“Oh … of course.” She shook her head ruefully. “That’s because Bhayar trusts you to keep them in line.”

“And why few rulers have had many imagers.”
And why all too many died in strange circumstances … something you’ll always need to keep in mind.
He waited. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Not right now.”

“Then I’d better rewrite this and get it to Skarpa.”

“You should.” She smiled. “You changed the subject rather deftly.”

He laughed. “Hardly. If I’d been deft, you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Her smile grew broader, then faded. “You’re still leaving tomorrow?”

“Seventh glass.”

“How long will it take to reach Suemyran? If you encounter no opposition?”

Quaeryt shrugged. “I can’t say. The road south looks better than those along the Aluse—except for the old Naedaran stone roads—but it might be as long as ten days. I’d be surprised if we had much opposition until we reach Barna. Aliaro’s never had a huge army, and he’s moved his forces by ship.”

“His ships will find out that you’ve taken Kephria and bring him word faster than a courier could.”

“That’s true, but he’ll have to gather forces and move them. He won’t have many, if any, stationed away from the coastal cities. And he won’t know if we’ve just taken Kephria or if we intend more. I suspect he’ll have trouble believing what we have in mind.”

“I do hope so, dearest.”

So do I.
With a faint smile, Quaeryt reached for another sheet of paper and picked up the pen.

Vaelora walked to the window and looked out into the early evening.

54

Southern Army and Quaeryt’s forces departed from Kephria on Mardi morning almost two quints before seventh glass, heading south on the road to Suemyran, a road that proved over the next three days to be adequate and whose condition appeared to improve with each mille that Southern Army traveled.