Antiagon Fire (64 page)

Quaeryt wanted to say more, to ask what Skarpa was hiding, but the flashes across his eyes were coming more often, and they hurt more … and then the white darkness rose around him again.

68

Quaeryt dozed and woke, and dozed and woke all through Jeudi night, but when he finally opened his eyes sometime after dawn on Vendrei morning, his thoughts weren’t so jumbled. The flashes across his eyes had almost vanished, and the throbbing in his head was down to a dull ache. Unfortunately, that diminution of acute pain made him aware of soreness in his right thigh and upper arm, both of which were heavily bruised. He was also strong enough to prop himself up and reach for the mug of watered lager and slowly drink it. He’d almost finished it when Khalis appeared.

“How are you feeling, sir?”

“Much better.” Quaeryt wasn’t even tempted to reply with something along the lines of he couldn’t have felt much worse. He had felt worse, much worse. “How did I get so bruised, Khalis? Did I get knocked off my mount?”

“Ah … not exactly, sir.”

“What happened, then?”

“All that shaking … it caused gaps in the paving stones, and your mare, her forelegs got crushed in between two stones. She tried not to go down … but she did. So did you.”

Quaeryt winced. The mare had carried him all the way across Lydar … and then to have her brought down by his acts … and paving stones …

“I’m sorry, sir. That was just the way it was.”

“Those things happen. I just wish…” He shook his head. “You told me the undercaptains were all right, if bruised.” He paused. “What about the rest of first company?”

“There were some broken arms and legs, the major said—from horses and men going down. No one was killed that I heard.”

“I need to talk to the submarshal.” Quaeryt slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his feet on the stone floor. “Do I have a uniform somewhere?”

“Yes, sir … but…”

“I need to find the submarshal.”

“He’s in the study…”

“I’ll get dressed and find him.”
Skarpa won’t tell you anything if you’re still lying in a bed and looking helpless.

After dressing, if slowly, Quaeryt did have to sit on the edge of the bed and drink more of the watered lager, as well as slowly chew a too-hard biscuit. Then he rose. “Point me in the right direction, Undercaptain.”

“I’ll show you, sir. It’s only down the hall.”

Quaeryt didn’t argue with that, but rose slowly and followed the young Pharsi undercaptain through the door and then through what looked to be a lady’s study to a wide tiled hallway.

Two doors down stood a pair of troopers, but neither said a word as Khalis opened the door and announced, “Submarshal, Commander Quaeryt to see you.”

Quaeryt didn’t wait for an acknowledgment, but walked in and took one of the whitewood chairs opposite the table desk, trying not to sink into it. His legs were feeling weaker than he would have liked. The door closed behind him.

Skarpa looked up from the papers and maps surrounding him. “You’re up early.”

“What weren’t you telling me yesterday?” Quaeryt demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You were hiding something. What is it?”

The submarshal sighed, deeply, and his brow furrowed. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“I did. What didn’t you tell me?”

“We found out early yesterday that when Aliaro heard about what we did at Kephria he sent three warships and some imagers north.”

Vaelora … with only half a regiment to support her, and not a single imager!
“Where did you find that out?”

“From the assistant harbormaster.” Skarpa paused. “It might not be that bad.”

“How could it not be that bad?” demanded Quaeryt.

“When he found out we were marching on Liantiago several days after that, Aliaro sent a fast schooner or ketch after them. The harbormaster didn’t know why, but I’d wager it was to recall them to defend Liantiago.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped them from leveling and burning what was left of Kephria,” Quaeryt pointed out.

“The schooner might have traveled faster.”

“Not that much faster. The Antiagon warships are all built for speed. Have you seen the
Montagne
? Or the
Solis
? Are there any other ships either here or in Westisle?”

“No one’s seen either. There is a large schooner in Westisle. I had the captain sail it here.”

“Put me on that ship … I can recover on the trip.”

“I thought you’d say that,” replied Skarpa wryly. “What about Liantiago? What if those imagers return and you’re gone?”

“Voltyr and Threkhyl can provide any imaging you need. Have them watch the harbor and sink any Antiagon ship that tries to enter the port. They can do that. It’s hard enough to image over water. I imagine it’s even harder if you’re in it or under it. As regional governor, you’ll need some imagers anyway, and I planned on leaving them.”

“Nice of you to tell me.”

“You didn’t want to hear my plans. Remember? And … Nineteenth Regiment can stay as well. The other undercaptains and first company can come with me.” Even speaking that many words left Quaeryt feeling light-headed.

“You’re not as well as you think.”

“No … but Vaelora is Bhayar’s sister.”

Skarpa laughed harshly. “I worry more about you and your imagers than about Lord Bhayar. I already told the captain to be ready to sail before noon. Major Zhelan is readying first company, but the ship can’t take any mounts. It’ll be crowded enough with your imagers and the troopers. And I’ve sent a small paychest. You’ll need it for supplies.”

“Thank you. As for not having mounts, we’ll make do.”

“I did find a carriage, and you will ride in it, Commander. I won’t be responsible for you falling off a mount when you shouldn’t be up at all.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There are times when you can be impossible, you know?”

“If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be acting governor of Antiago, and Bhayar would likely be dead and Solis in the hands of Rex Kharst.”

“Quaeryt … I know you’re worried about Vaelora … but … don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m sorry. I am worried. She’s not that far from having a child, only a month or so.”
Maybe less.
“And she’s not the kind to offer herself up.”
Especially not after the way Aliaro treated her sister.

“She and Baarl—and Khaern, if he’s back—would certainly withdraw from an attack by imagers,” Skarpa pointed out.

“I left that order—if they had any warning. But when Kharst attacked Kephria, Aliaro shelled Ephra and used his imagers to incinerate the attackers with no warning whatsoever.”
And you weren’t much different in your attacks on the cities of Liantiago. Is the Nameless returning the favor?
Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder that, even as he still doubted that there even was a Nameless.

“Just get yourself ready…” said Skarpa. “I’ll make sure that everything else is on board and waiting for you.”

“Thank you … and I’m sorry … It’s just…”

“I do understand … Now get yourself out of here. Don’t be too proud to ask Khalis or the others to help you.”

“I won’t.” Quaeryt rose, deliberately, and inclined his head. “Thank you … again.” Then he walked slowly to the study door.

In less than a glass, he was riding out from the villa in a white carriage, accompanied by Khalis and escorted by almost a company of troopers from Third Regiment.

How could you not have seen this? How? And with Vaelora expecting?
She’d said that he’d need every imager.
But did you have to listen to her?
He’d assumed that Aliaro would have understood that Kephria was merely the first city to fall.
That was a terrible assumption.
He didn’t even want to dwell on the fact that it might have cost him Vaelora—and their daughter.

Yet there was nothing he could do—now—beyond what he was about to do.

He forced himself to look at the buildings. From what he could tell, the villa in which he had been recovering was south and west of the Autarch’s Square, possibly more than a half mille away. Yet, as he continued through the streets of Liantiago, every building near the villa showed some signs of damage, if as little as shutters hanging askew, or cracks in the outside walls. In more than a few instances, though, an entire dwelling had collapsed in on itself. Several times, the driver had to slow the carriage to ease it over or around raised paving stones, although, after another half mille, the damage was far less apparent. By the time the carriage had reached the harbor, there were almost no signs of damage, except for an occasional broken window, shutters askew, or fragments of roof tiles on the ground or sidewalks.

The three-masted schooner waiting at the long main pier was a comparatively large vessel, a good forty-five yards from stem to stern, with even a low sterncastle.

Voltyr and Threkhyl met the carriage even before Quaeryt could think about getting out. Standing behind them was Alazyn.

“Sir? The submarshal said that you’d ordered us to remain here to support him, but that you might have additional orders for us,” said Voltyr.

“There may be imagers here that we don’t know about. That’s one reason why the submarshal may need you. The Autarch dispatched several to deal with Kephria. If they elude us, they may return here. For that reason, you are to attack and sink any Antiagon warship that attempts to port here.”

Voltyr raised his eyebrows.

“Do you want to face another imager as strong as those who defended the palace? The
only
reason an Antiagon warship would be attempting to land immediately would be if they have an imager on board. Any other warship would likely stand off and send in someone under a parley flag. If that happens, make certain that the warship anchors offshore and keep them there until you get a dispatch from me. If you don’t, then you’ll have to discuss things with the submarshal and exercise your own judgment.” Quaeryt laughed softly, and even that hurt. “You’ll have to rely on your own judgment in many matters, I suspect. Just remember that your fate, and the fate of all imagers, rests on our ability to support Lord Bhayar and to consolidate his rule over all Lydar. Anything else—anything—is likely to be fatal for imagers. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Voltyr nodded.

“I’m taking Elsior with Lhandor, Khalis, and Baelthm because his life is forfeit here … and maybe we can get him to join us. At the same time, I’d like you to keep your eye out for young imagers. You know how to train them.”

“You’re saying that we’re likely to be here for a while, then?”

“You could be here for a month … or a year.”
If not longer.
“Remember, when all of this started, I thought I’d be gone from Solis no more than two seasons. That was almost two years ago.”

Threkhyl started to open his mouth, and Quaeryt looked hard at him. Threkhyl closed his mouth.

Quaeryt kept looking at Threkhyl. “You need to follow Voltyr’s lead, his advice, and his orders. It might just keep you alive.”

After a moment the ginger-bearded imager replied, “Yes, sir.”

As the two undercaptains stepped back, Alazyn moved forward. “Sir? Any orders for me?”

Quaeryt frowned for a moment. “You’re here to support the submarshal. You’re also here to protect the imagers so that they can protect you as well. Don’t let yourself or Nineteenth Regiment be separated from the imagers. Undercaptain Voltyr may gather and train other imagers. While technically you are his superior, listen to him and see if you can accommodate any needs he has.”

Alazyn nodded. “I heard what you said to them.”

“They weren’t just words.”

“No, sir. I’ve seen that.”

Quaeryt smiled. “You’re a perceptive officer, Alazyn. I appreciate that.” He lowered his voice. “Be most careful around Commander Kharllon.”

“Yes, sir.” Alazyn offered a hand to help Quaeryt from the carriage.

As Quaeryt eased himself to his feet, several rankers hurried down to take his gear, such as it was. He walked slowly the distance to the foot of the gangway, his eyes flicking to the bow of the ship where carved letters, painted black, gave the name as
Zephyr.

The dark-haired captain, younger than Quaeryt had expected, possibly only ten years older than Quaeryt, despite his weathered skin, stood just beyond the quarterdeck, his face impassive … for a moment, until he saw Quaeryt’s silver-white hair, honey-colored skin, and dark eyes. Quaeryt couldn’t read his reaction, but it was clear Quaeryt’s appearance had given him pause.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

The Antiagon smiled, if briefly. “Some do remember courtesy.”

His accent was so heavy that it took Quaeryt a moment to catch his words and reply. “We try … when we can.” Quaeryt crossed the gangway and then stopped short of the captain. “I’m Commander Quaeryt.”

“Sario A’Basiol, sir.”

“I would that we were not meeting this way, Captain, but matters are urgent. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but speed is necessary. The late Autarch dispatched several ships to attack the Telaryn forces in Kephria under the command of Lord Bhayar’s sister.”

For a moment the captain did not react, but then Quaeryt caught the slightest swallow.

“The lady is also my wife,” Quaeryt added, speaking slowly and as clearly as possible. “Whatever happened is not your fault, and I will not hold it against you. Failing to make the best speed possible, I will. I have some experience at sea. I was a junior quartermaster for several years.”

The captain inclined his head. “I appreciate the explanation. I understand your concerns. We will do our best.” After a moment, he added, “My quarters are yours, sir.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded in return. He just hoped he could make it to those quarters before his legs gave out.

69

Once the
Zephyr
cleared the harbor of Liantiago on Vendrei, Quaeryt allowed himself to sleep. He didn’t do much besides sleep, occasionally eat, and even more occasionally check the ship’s heading and progress until after noon on Samedi. His sleep was interrupted often by the same thought—
Why didn’t you think that Aliaro would retaliate? How could he have known that Kephria was just the first city you planned to attack?