Scholar: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio (61 page)

He turned the mare more to the west, angling behind the staggered remnants of the first lines of Meinyt’s company and riding until he could make out the figure of the older captain, barely, given his blurred vision, who had reined up at the edge of a wide clearing bordering the south edge of the road to Boralieu. On the road were other Telaryn riders, roughly ranked. Quaeryt could see a battalion ensign, but couldn’t read it the way his eyes were twitching. He glanced to the west, looking for the sun.

Somehow … it was approaching noon. He reined up, not knowing what else he was supposed to do.

“Are you all right, scholar?” asked Meinyt.

The pain in Quaeryt’s eyes was so great that even squinting he couldn’t make out the captain’s expression.

“You’ve got blood on your sleeve,” added Meinyt.

Quaeryt looked down at his left arm. There was indeed a large smear of blood, but there was no cut in the cloth. He gingerly felt the forearm … sore already and probably bruised, but it didn’t feel like there was any wet blood or stickiness beneath.

“Someone else’s blood, I think. I’m bruised all over.”

The captain turned his head, but said nothing.

“I wedged the staff under the pommel of the saddle and stuck it out sideways … well, up a little. It worked, but it strained every muscle in my arms and shoulders. Then I blocked lances and a sabre somehow, but I’ve got bruises everywhere.…”

“I saw it, Captain, sir,” called a ranker. “He wedged himself sort of between two trees and stopped two mounts and their riders. Both went down so hard … never get up.”

“Why…?” Meinyt never finished the question.

“They had very sharp lances, and they were aimed at me. You said we weren’t supposed to let them pass. I did what I could.”

Meinyt looked back to the ranker.

“He stopped ’em, sir. Stopped dead. Didn’t see how … had to worry about some others.”

Meinyt nodded to the ranker, then, abruptly, laughed. “Trees and staffs … never heard of such.”

Quaeryt just hoped that none of the other rankers had seen any more. And, as sore as he’d been that morning, he had no doubts that he’d feel worse the next morning.

79

By less than a glass after midday, Major Skarpa had all the companies of Sixth Battalion in position on the west side of the hillside clearing overlooking the valley that held Boralieu. Quaeryt’s vision had largely returned, although his head still throbbed, and even the idea of raising shields was painful. He’d also rolled up the green shirt, which he thought of as his patrol and combat shirt, and wore just his browns.

As he stood just beyond the shoulder of the road, looking westward, he could see that the valley was very different from what he recalled. Most of the ground for a good half mille east of Boralieu, perhaps even a full mille, was dotted with ponds, lakes, and flooded fields. Although it was hard to tell, the flooding appeared to encircle the entire knoll on which the post had been built. A timber palisade had also been erected on a smaller knoll to the east of the walls, overlooking the raised road leading across the flooded land. For several moments, he stood there, considering the change, before Meinyt walked up beside him.

“What are you looking at, scholar?”

“The ground … the fields just east of Boralieu. Look closely.”

“What the Namer…” muttered Meinyt. “Never seen that before.”

“They must have diverted a stream or something,” said Quaeryt.

“Why would they…? Oh … the road’s the only easy way to the post.”

“Or from it, and that would restrict the ability of the companies at Boralieu to attack that temporary fort unless they wanted to take a lot of casualties.”

Meinyt gave a sound that was half grunt, half assent before he turned to face Quaeryt full on. “According to the men, scholar, you did a lot of damage with your little staff today. One man even claims you saved his life by unhorsing someone he didn’t see.”

“I yelled, but he didn’t hear me. I had to do something.”

Meinyt snorted. “Too many dead heroes felt that way.”

“The man who was attacking him didn’t see me.”

“That’s more the way it should be. Officers shouldn’t try to be heroes. They should be officers. Otherwise, who’s left to lead the men?”

That was another thing Quaeryt hadn’t considered. But then, he wasn’t an officer, not really, and he certainly wasn’t in the chain of command. Still … were he in Meinyt’s position, where would he draw the line?

“Good. You’re thinking,” said the captain.

Quaeryt didn’t retort that he always tried to think. He merely nodded.

The sound of a horn blared from somewhere nearby.

“Officers’ meeting…” Meinyt turned and headed in the direction of the horn.

Quaeryt decided to trail along, although he planned to be as inconspicuous as possible, browns or not, at the back of the officers gathering. The air was dusty, not surprisingly, with all the horses around, and there was already a faint odor of decay.

The number of officers wasn’t quite so great as Quaeryt had expected, although there were certainly more than fifty, and he positioned himself behind two taller men and waited. Shortly, there was another horn call—this one calling the officers to attention. Quaeryt stiffened with the rest of the officers, then waited as Rescalyn vaulted up onto the back of the supply wagon, likely moved into the middle of the temporary encampment for just that purpose.

The governor stood there for a moment, before commanding, “At ease, officers.”

Those around Quaeryt relaxed, but only slightly.

“So far … things are going more our way than theirs. If you’ve looked down at the valley, you’ll notice that it looks a great deal wetter than any of you recall. That’s because the hill renegades breached some of the irrigation dams and diverted the streams. They didn’t think too far ahead … or they miscalculated your abilities. It could be both, but I’m proud of the way you all handled your men and the way they responded this morning. All Telaryn should be proud, not that most will ever know. The enemy casualties were considerable, and ours were comparatively light.

“Because of the flooding in the valley, we’re going to shift our plan of attack … slightly. The main body of hill renegades has retreated to the west, out of the valley, but they’ve left a garrison behind those palisade walls. We’re not going to storm their little fort. Instead, the engineers have a way to deal with that. They’ll only need the support of Eighth Battalion, but I’m asking Seventh to stand by just in case.

“The rest of you can use the remainder of the day to re-form and recover. We won’t be entering Boralieu … for obvious reasons…”

It took Quaeryt a moment to realize that, if the regiment entered the post, the rebels could easily return, and the governor’s forces would be the ones hemmed in and hampered by all the flooded ground.

“… If all goes as planned, we’ll be moving out at dawn. I’ll be giving specific orders to individual battalion commanders.” Rescalyn smiled. “That’s all. Dismissed to duties.”

Quaeryt slipped away, moving back toward the general area that held Sixth Battalion. He was still looking for Meinyt when he saw Skarpa approaching.

“Major.”

“Scholar, Meinyt told me that you managed to hold your own this morning … a bit more than that, even.”

“By the end, I was in the second or third line. I still don’t ride as well as most of them.”

“I’ll have to tell Phargos that you fight too well to be a good chorister.”

“I was just fortunate. One encounter doesn’t prove anything.”

At that, Skarpa nodded. “Just remember that, and you’ll make it through.” After a moment, he added, “I need to meet with the commander and the governor in a few moments. I’ll see you and the other officers after I meet with them.”

“Best of fortune with that.”

The major barked a short laugh, then turned.

Standing there and watching Skarpa depart, Quaeryt felt a sharp pin-like jab in his upper arm, but discovered that it was only a dried pine needle that had worked its way through his sleeve. He found several others, and almost wondered why he hadn’t noticed them before.

A good glass later, Skarpa had not returned, but a squad leader walked toward Quaeryt, who had found a shady spot under an oak, then stopped. “The governor would like to see you. If you’d come with me, sir.”

“Of course.” Quaeryt stood and followed the squad leader toward the middle of the temporary camp. Within a few moments, he saw their destination—and awning, or perhaps the top of a tent without walls, under which were three camp chairs and a folding table. Two of the chairs were vacant. Rescalyn sat in the third, apparently studying a map. The area around the tent was clear to a distance of some ten or fifteen yards on every side, with rankers posted at intervals to maintain the separation.

The squad leader did not cross that invisible perimeter, but motioned for Quaeryt to approach.

The scholar did, halting in the shade just under the canvas. “Sir, you requested my presence.”

“Have a seat, scholar.” Rescalyn pointed to the middle chair.

Quaeryt took it and waited.

“You’ve seen the flooding to the west, I take it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The last skirmish was hardly over, and a messenger from High Holder Dymaetyn arrived. He blames me—oh, it was far more politely worded than that—for the destruction of valuable lands. How do you think Lord Bhayar would expect me to reply?”

“Sir, I have no instructions to give you. Lord Bhayar asked me to observe you as an example of a good governor.”

Rescalyn laughed. “You are persistently consistent, scholar. Then, in your own capacity as a scholar, how would you suggest that I respond?”

“I would express concern for the damage, but note that the problems created by the hill holders long predate your tenure as governor and stretch back well into the reigns of the Khanars. You might also observe that, had the Khanars and the High Holders of the past been more willing to deal firmly with the hill holders, such recent events as the flooding might never have come about. Then you could note that, since harvest is over and it appears that his lands have indeed been harvested, additional moisture should only be beneficial for most of them, provided, of course, that the dams, streams, and levees are returned to their previous courses prior to the onset of winter. That will require some effort, but certainly not so much as that which you are making on behalf of both Lord Bhayar and Telaryn to permanently resolve a problem that should have been dealt with generations back.”

“Just on behalf of Telaryn, I’d think,” mused Rescalyn, before saying, “Go on.”

“If you wish to be conciliatory, you might offer the expertise of some of your engineers in helping develop the work plans for his efforts at restoration.”

“He won’t like that.” Rescalyn’s voice was heartily bland.

“He won’t like anything except having you and your men repair everything and then pay him compensation. If you do that—”

“Then every last one of them will want the same. I can see that. In fact, what you suggested follows closely what I already wrote. I do like the offer of a few engineers to assist him in planning. That way, he can’t say we did nothing at all … and all of them complain that we don’t do enough. There’s nothing new about that.” Rescalyn fingered his chin.

Quaeryt waited.

“How are you finding Sixth Battalion?”

“I’m working to observe and help and not interfere.”

Rescalyn rose. “Good. That’s all.”

Quaeryt stood immediately. “Yes, sir.” He nodded politely, then turned and left.

Was all that just to see how I looked after a battle … or skirmish? Most likely, but it was more than that.
Quaeryt kept walking, heading back to the Sixth Battalion area.

The more Quaeryt met with Rescalyn, the less he trusted the man—or his motives. And the one comment Rescalyn had made about “on behalf of Telaryn” reminded Quaeryt, again, that he’d never heard the governor speak of Bhayar … and that went along with the slight dig in his speech about no one in Telaryn knowing what the officers and men had done.

80

By early Jeudi afternoon, Quaeryt understood all too well what Rescalyn had in mind for the timber fort. The engineers set up portable bombards, just out of bow range, and used them to hurl crocks of burning bitumen at the palisade walls as well as within. In less than two glasses everything was aflame. A good many of the defenders escaped by running into and through the waters and swamps they had created. Almost as many ran into Seventh Battalion and did not survive.

Even those who reached the immediate safety of the watercourses and swamps might not live all that long, Quaeryt knew, since stagnant waters held their own dangers, from whitemouth snakes to the bloody flux. When full night fell, the site of the palisade still glowed in the darkness, and the smell of burning wood and other less pleasant odors filled the valley and even drifted as far eastward as the regimental camp. Quaeryt wondered if the hill holders understood what Rescalyn intended for them.

He doubted it, and, in a way, that bothered him as well, because they were plaques in the governor’s game and had no idea how they were being played. Yet, at the moment, it was too early for Quaeryt to act, especially since he still needed to survive the coming battles, or skirmishes, as Rescalyn called them. Besides, from what he’d experienced, he had little love for the hill holders, who seemed to think that they could do whatever they wanted with comparatively few repercussions.

For whatever reason, possibly simply sheer exhaustion, Quaeryt did sleep better on Jeudi night, and, true to his words, Rescalyn had the regiment on the road well before sunrise on Vendrei.

Once they reached the valley floor, they stayed on the main road for close to three milles before heading southward on a dirt lane that, in turn, led to another lane, that rejoined the road leading westward from Boralieu—the one that Quaeryt had ridden many times during his time at the post. While no one had actually said so, Quaeryt gained the impression that the regiment was headed directly toward Waerfyl’s hold.

Sixth Battalion formed the rear guard, following the supply wagons, which followed the engineering wagons. Rescalyn had given that position to the battalion, according to Skarpa, because Sixth Battalion had taken among the heaviest impacts of the fighting in the hills. Quaeryt had refrained from pointing out that the very first attack on the regiment had been on the rear guard.