Rex Regis (50 page)

Quaeryt glanced at the open door to a concealed alcove. Inside, a body lay facedown below what did appear to be a small cannon or a huge blunderbuss.

“The imagers were trying to block me. I had to kill him,” explained Lhandor. “Khalis managed to slow down the submarshal so he couldn’t get out of the salon so quickly. Elsior’s holding the captain. Elsior also told us where the imagers were. That helped. He also said we couldn’t let the door close.”

Couldn’t let the door close?
For a moment that puzzled Quaeryt. Then he nodded and said to Elsior, “You can release the captain. But you can kill him if he makes a single wrong move.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain stood there shaking. “That … That was Erion…” Then he fainted.

“It was Erion, wasn’t it, sir?” asked Khalis.

Once again, Quaeryt had to question whether it had been Erion, or his own creation of the great hunter.
Will you ever know? For certain? Most likely not.
“I don’t know. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.”

The three exchanged dubious glances.

Quaeryt squared his shoulders. “How are you all with fire?”

“Fire, sir?”

“The one that started when we were fighting the evil imagers.”

“But, sir…” Khalis broke off his protest, clearly belatedly understanding.

“Of course, the fire started when we fought them, after the submarshal escaped their control of his mind and they killed him and Commander Luchan,” Quaeryt added.

“Yes, sir.”

Besides which, this holding isn’t going to revert to heirs, not after all that it’s been used for.
Quaeryt sent a fireball into the paneled wall, beside the salon doorway. “Wake up the captain there and tell him the hold house is on fire.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt imaged fireballs to various points along the corridor that stretched northward to the main section of the hold house. So did Khalis, and then Lhandor. Then he turned and began to hurry toward the courtyard entrance, calling, “Fire! Everyone out! Fire!”

When they hurried into the courtyard, Quaeryt imaged fire into the upper rooms he could see, as well as sending fireballs to the north wing.

“Fire! The entire hold house is on fire!”

Men appeared from everywhere, some running from the outbuildings, and some from the hold house. Almost in moments, or so it seemed, flames were shooting from the hold house in dozens of spots.

Quaeryt hoped most people could get out of the hold house, but with the numbers that were appearing in the courtyard, he thought there might not be many casualties.
And a lot fewer than if Myskyl’s and Deucalon’s plans hadn’t been thwarted.
Except … he knew that the business of thwarting them wasn’t quite finished.
Not yet.

“Elsior … you go find Ghaelyn,” ordered Quaeryt. “You and he and the rankers ride back and tell Zhelan and Calkoran what happened, then have them ride here to join us. Be ready to provide shields. I don’t think you’ll have to, but it’s possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Abruptly Quaeryt found that his legs were shaking, and flashes of light flared across his vision.

Something
exhausted you.
“I think I need to rest.”

“We’ll get you away from here, sir, and find something to eat and drink,” said Khalis.

“So you’re ready to deal with the other commanders after the fire,” added Lhandor.

That was fine with Quaeryt, even though he wasn’t looking forward to such a meeting or what would follow.

The hold house fire did not erupt quite so quickly as it seemed to Quaeryt at the time he hurried out into the courtyard, but it spread fast enough and burned long enough that it was well past the third glass of the afternoon before all that remained was a pile of smoldering ashes and charred stone and brick walls. The various regimental commanders had managed enough men and buckets to keep the fire from spreading to the outbuildings, although that was helped greatly by the fact that the courtyards were wide enough that, with almost no wind, few sparks and embers traveled that far. In the upheaval and firefighting, Zhelan and Calkoran had little difficulty in entering the hold grounds.

Quaeryt did take the precaution of putting the shaken captain under guard and protection of the imagers, since he was the only witness besides the imager undercaptains. He also had a guard posted around the area of the south wing of the hold house where the officers’ salon had been. Once the fire was no longer a threat, slightly before fourth glass, Quaeryt summoned the remaining two full commanders-Justanan and Nieron-to a meeting in what had been Luchan’s study in the large guesthouse.

By the time both commanders entered the study, Quaeryt had eaten and rested somewhat, and he stood beside the table desk that had been Luchan’s. He gestured to the chairs before the table desk. Nieron had thick black hair, wide blue eyes, and an open face, the kind most people trusted on sight. Justanan was narrow-faced, with deep-set watery green eyes and fine and thinning blond hair. His forehead was lined, as if he’d worried his entire life.

After a moment both sat. Quaeryt settled into the chair behind the table desk.

“You asked us to join you, Commander?” asked Nieron. “Should that not have been Commander Justanan’s prerogative, since he is senior?”

“Commander Justanan is indeed senior, but there are a few matters to discuss, Commander,” replied Quaeryt coldly. “Lord Bhayar sent me to determine why he had received no reply from Submarshal Myskyl, despite a number of dispatches and inquiries. When I tried to ask the submarshal about that, he turned three of Kharst’s former imagers on me, and attempted to use a blunderbuss on me. The failure of the Bovarian imagers resulted in a fire and an explosion that killed the imagers, the submarshal, and Commander Luchan.”

“We have only your word for that.”

“Actually, that’s not true. Captain Whandyn, the submarshal’s personal aide, was a witness to the entire disaster, and we managed to rescue him from the fire. So were two of my undercaptains. Shortly, I’ll let the captain tell you his version. Once we return to Variana, Lord Bhayar will make a final judgment, but at present, given the fact that Submarshal Myskyl appeared to have been compromised, or somehow had his judgment or loyalties altered by the Bovarian imagers, and perhaps Lady Myranda…” Quaeryt paused, then asked, “By the way, has anyone seen the lady?”

“She rode off during the fire, we think,” replied Justanan.

“There will likely be a price on her head,” replied Quaeryt, “but that will be up to Lord Bhayar.”

“Don’t you speak for Lord Bhayar?” asked Nieron sardonically. “In anything that matters?”

“Only when he’s told me what to say,” replied Quaeryt quietly. “Only then. That’s something that Submarshal Myskyl never understood.”

“You were saying,” prompted Nieron.

“At present, under Lord Bhayar’s authority and as Minister of Administration for Bovaria, I will be acting as senior officer.”

“The other officers will have something to say about that.”

“No,” said Quaeryt. “As you pointed out, Commander Justanan is senior. If, after he hears all that has occurred, he has reservations, then, and only then, will we discuss that. First, you need to hear some background. Then you need to read a dispatch. After that, you will hear Captain Whandyn, and if necessary, my undercaptains. And … once the fire has cooled enough, we will examine the so-called officers’ salon in the ruins of the hold house.”

“What exactly will that tell us?” said Nieron.

“Oh, I imagine that the iron of the blunderbuss mounted in a hidden alcove will be largely untouched, as will the iron shutter in the wall, and the iron backing of a false bookcase … as well as a few other items.”

At that, Nieron frowned, but did not speak.

“For you to understand what happened and why, there’s one set of facts you have to keep in mind. For the entire campaign up the River Aluse, and even at the battle of Variana, Lord Bhayar and Marshal Deucalon were greatly concerned about Rex Kharst’s imagers. Yet neither those imagers nor their bodies were ever found. They were known as ‘the three.’ There were in fact more than three. How many we may never know. What I do know is that several of them contacted Submarshal Myskyl, most likely through the most attractive and charming widow of High Holder Fiancryt.”

Quaeryt looked at Nieron and image-projected a compulsion to tell the truth as he asked, “Were you aware they were here?”

For a long moment, the commander was silent. Finally, he said, “I knew the submarshal was meeting with men who had served Rex Kharst.”

Justanan cleared his throat and looked at Nieron.

“We all thought they might be imagers,” added Nieron quickly.

“Why did you think he was talking to them?”

“It wasn’t my place to ask,” replied Nieron.

“And what did Myskyl say about them?”

“He only said they might be helpful in restoring full power to Lord Bhayar.”

“I see. And did he mention why Lord Bhayar might not have full power?”

Nieron did not quite meet Quaeryt’s eyes.

“Did he?”

After a silence, Quaeryt went on. “We’ll come back to that presently. Myskyl met with the three. What they said I don’t know. What I do know is this. For more than three months, the submarshal has sent no messages or dispatches to Lord Bhayar. He has sent no tariffs to Lord Bhayar, and he responded to none of Lord Bhayar’s requests. Now, I have known the submarshal since he was a commander in Tilbor. He was always a faithful and responsible officer, one whose efforts were always in service of Lord Bhayar. Yet, sometime after the three contacted this devoted officer, he changed. He sent no tariffs. He pretended to send dispatches, but they never arrived. He began to talk to High Holders, expressing worry that Lord Bhayar was the one who changed…”

“He said you changed Lord Bhayar,” said Commander Nieron.

“That I was the one who usurped Lord Bhayar’s power?”

“He never quite said that,” interjected Justanan. “It was always implied.”

Quaeryt laughed softly. “If I were such a schemer, why was I always at the front of the battles? Why have I been the one wounded three times? I came here with two companies, and I entered Fiancryt nearly alone, with two junior undercaptains. If I were a schemer, why would I leave my regiments, leave Variana and Lord Bhayar, and spend a month traveling to find out why Lord Bhayar received no dispatches? I didn’t agree with Kharst’s imagers to build an iron-walled room to trap another officer. I didn’t withhold tariffs, but sent everything I collected in southern Bovaria … Oh, and by the way, Submarshal Skarpa didn’t just squat in a high holding in southern Bovaria. When the High Holders there revolted, he put down the revolt, discovered they were allies of the Autarch, and went on and conquered Antiago and turned it over to Lord Bhayar. He didn’t let himself be turned against Lord Bhayar by Aliaro’s imagers.” Quaeryt smiled coldly at Nieron. “Now … Submarshal Myskyl was once an honorable officer. He was turned from his duty by the evil three. Who knows? Perhaps those imagers of Kharst’s were the reason why Kharst was so depraved.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but notice that Justanan nodded thoughtfully.

Nieron worried his lower lip.

Quaeryt lifted the dispatch from Myskyl from the folder on the table desk and extended it to Justanan. “We intercepted this several days ago. You may find it somewhat interesting.”

The worried-looking officer took the dispatch and began to read. His expression became more worried as he continued. Abruptly he looked up and shook his head. “By themselves, his words are merely worrisome, but knowing what we know…” He handed the dispatch to Nieron.

The black-haired commander began to read. When he finished, he said, “He’s only talking about not wanting the powers of the marshal to be usurped…”

“Are you an idiot?” asked Justanan. “He’s admitting he delayed sending tariffs, which is an act against Bhayar. He’s plotting against another officer appointed by Bhayar. Lord Bhayar is the one who decides how much power an officer under his direct authority has. Commander Quaeryt was not under the command of either the marshal or the submarshal. And as Commander Quaeryt pointed out, as you must be aware, he’s talking about an officer who has laid his life on the line in battle time after time. If there is a blunderbuss in that ruin, and I suspect there is, what other proof do you want?”

Nieron swallowed. “But why?”

“I think,” said Justanan, “Commander Quaeryt has the right of it. We know Kharst was corrupt. We know he did not hazard his imagers in battle. Every single one of Bhayar’s imagers has fought, and several have died. Does that not tell you something?”

Nieron shook his head. “Why would he turn … give up everything?”

“Perhaps they convinced him that he should be ruler and not Lord Bhayar, who is, as the submarshal did say, young to be a ruler over all of Lydar.”

“Could we hear from the captain?” asked Nieron.

“Of course.” Quaeryt stood and walked to the study door, opening it and asking the ranker stationed there-from first company, “Have Major Zhelan escort Captain Whandyn here, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt left the study door ajar and walked back to the table desk. “The captain should be here momentarily.”

When Whandyn entered the study, he looked to Quaeryt. “Sir?”

“Please sit down, Captain.” Quaeryt motioned to the remaining chair and waited until the junior officer was seated.

Whandyn was clearly ill at ease, sitting only on the front half of the chair, his eyes flicking from Quaeryt to the other commanders and back to Quaeryt.

“Captain,” began Quaeryt, “the commanders would like to hear what you heard and saw earlier today, beginning after you escorted me into the submarshal’s study. If you would tell them…”

“Yes, sir.” Whandyn moistened his lips. “I announced Commander Quaeryt and Submarshal Myskyl told me to show him in by all means. I closed the door. They must have talked for a while. Then the door opened, and the submarshal came out. Commander Quaeryt followed him. The submarshal stopped and told me to get Commander Luchan and his assistants and have them join him in the officers’ salon.”