Treachery's Tools (63 page)

“How would you deal with that possibility?”

“Space the scouts a quint of a mille apart, but each in sight of the one before him. If the lead scout disappears while he's on the road, it's likely he's passed through a screen concealment.”

“How long could this imager hold such a concealment?”

“That depends on how large it is. One across the river road and on the shoulder covering a squad of troopers … easily a glass, probably longer. Large shields, on the other hand, wear out even the strongest imagers quickly.” Alastar only paused for a moment before asking, “But couldn't the rebels do the same thing by using a wooded area close to the river road and waiting for the scouts to pass?”

“They could,” admitted Maurek, “but it seems unlikely that none would escape.”

“The rebels have a much larger force.”

“Either way,” said Wilkorn, “it's disturbing.”

“So we still don't know where the rebels are?”

“We know that they're not yet within five milles of Caluse,” replied Maurek. “Otherwise…”

“That's almost a day away, then,” observed Alastar.

“It might be two,” said Wilkorn, “or they might be wanting to create that impression while they send part of their forces westward.”

“And bring them through that gap between Lake Shaelyt and the smaller lake just to the northwest of us?”

“We have scouts posted there, just in case,” replied Maurek.

“Can your imagers sense when there is another imager hiding behind a concealment?” asked Wilkorn.

“That is a very rare talent. At present, we have one very young imager who appears to have that ability, but she is young and can only detect concealments that are within a few yards. That wouldn't be helpful here.”

“I was hoping…” admitted the marshal.

“Is there anything else I should know?” asked Alastar.

“You know what we know.” Wilkorn offered a crooked smile. “Little as it is. We'll let you know more as soon as we do.”

When Alastar returned to the imagers' area, he immediately gathered them all together. “There are two things you all need to know. The first is that we will be supplying Fifth Company with some special cartridges. Fifth Company is the same company that we assisted in dealing with the late High Holder Laevoryn, and we will be supporting the company in dealing with the rebels. For those of you who haven't heard, Captain Weidyn is very experienced. His troopers only know that the cartridges are more powerful. That is true, and that is all anyone needs to know. Is that clear?” Alastar paused and surveyed the imagers one by one before continuing.

“For your information, they were imaged by Maitres Cyran and Alyna. The second matter is that the rebels are at least fifteen milles away. We don't know more than that because a number of the scouts the marshal dispatched yesterday have not yet returned, and it's possible that they were ambushed. That means you all should remain fairly close to our muster area because it is possible that some of the rebel forces might be nearby.” Alastar paused. “Are there any questions?”

“How many of their troopers are mounted, and how many are infantry?” asked Tiranya.

“We don't know precisely yet. Of those who deserted from army headquarters, less than a third are mounted infantry. The first reports from scouts last week indicated that only about a quarter of the forces supplied by the High Holders appear to be mounted. That may have increased since then.”

“Do we know if Bettaur or Ashkyr are with the rebels?” asked Taurek.

“We don't have any information either way. It might be best to assume that they are, or at least keep the possibility in the back of your minds.”

“Besides the early operations with Fifth Company, sir,” asked Dylert, “what exactly will we be doing?”

Alastar suspected that question had come as much from Thelia as from Dylert, although he honestly didn't know just how much the junior maitre had discussed matters with Thelia. “What we're expected to provide is opportunistic support and attack. As we've already discovered, there's a limit to how many heavy rifle bullets most imager shields can take. Leading a charge might sound glamorous, but you can't lead without being somewhat visible to those you're leading, and a force large enough to be effective is going to leave traces and be heard, even under concealment. After the first few uses of concealments, bullets will be flying everywhere. So we'll be doing things like moving close enough under shields and concealments to fire their cannon shells and ammunition. Or perhaps torch their provisions, or any number of other operations that will create losses to them while incurring as few as possible, hopefully none, to the imagers involved. Remember … there are only twelve of you, and likely close to five thousand troopers on both sides. If any of you have other ideas along those lines, I'm open to suggestions.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now … get something to eat.”

As Weidyn had promised, immediately after breakfast a squad leader from Fifth Company appeared with a handcart—and the captain was with him. Both carried heavy rifles.

Alastar walked them to the first supply wagon where Cyran was waiting with ten wooden boxes set out on the tailboard.

“There they are,” said Alastar.

“Do you mind if…” The squad leader looked to Alastar.

“You'd like to look at the bullets, to make sure that they won't foul your barrels?” asked Alastar gently.

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar nodded to Cyran, who took one of the wooden boxes and handed it to the armorer.

“Awfully nice for a cartridge box,” observed Weidyn, glancing at the other nine boxes. “Men will be wanting them when they're empty.”

The armorer slid the top open just enough to remove several of the cartridges. Then he lifted his rifle, swiveled the breech, and inserted the cartridge. He inspected the fit carefully, then swiveled the breech down, checking the closure, before he looked to Alastar.

“We've fired at least a score of rounds from heavy rifles. You can fire how many you want, but each one you fire is one less with which to kill rebels. Each one was specially made, and there aren't any replacements.” Alastar smiled pleasantly. “When you fire, just make sure the bullet won't ricochet and hit someone.”

“I'd like to walk over to the river and see if I can find some wet sand or mud to fire into.”

“Go ahead,” replied Alastar, “but if you want to look at the bullet afterward, put on some gloves. Then wash them when you're done. The residual from the charge could burn your fingers even when the bullet's cold.” That was as much as Alastar was going to say, and it was true in a way.

“That charge won't foul a barrel, will it?”

“No,” replied Cyran. “We actually fired close to two score cartridges from one rifle.”

“Maitre Cyran works with forging and metals, turning benches and tolerances,” added Alastar.

“Go ahead,” said Weidyn. “We'll wait here.” Once the armorer was out of earshot, he added, “He's very conscientious. He'd feel better firing an entire box. I told him that wasn't possible.”

“Oh … it's possible,” replied Alastar dryly, “but the cost of his certainty would likely be the greater possibility of deaths among his men and comrades.”

“Rushing weapons can be dangerous,” pointed out Weidyn. “It can cost lives.”

“You're right. It usually does. But if we wait until we're absolutely certain the cartridges won't create problems, the revolt will be long over … one way or the other. The question is whether the new weapon saves more lives of our troopers than it costs. We think the special cartridges will … and since we're hazarding our imagers to help in the matter, it's not as though we're not sharing that risk.”

“I did point that out to the armorer.”

“But you're letting him come to the right decision his way,” said Alastar with a smile.

“Most times, it works better when you let them know the entire problem, or as much as you can.”

Alastar thought he heard three shots, but he wasn't certain.

More than half a quint passed before the armorer rejoined the three. He looked to Weidyn. “Sir, they don't seem to foul the barrel. The bullets crack when they hit, but they don't fragment. They don't scar the barrel, and they seem more accurate than the ones we're using.”

Alastar noted the smallest of nods from Cyran.

“Then they'll do?” asked Weidyn.

“As far as I can tell, sir.”

“Then load them up. We'll wait to issue them until just before the evolution. We might be ordered to some other duty first.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll be with you in a few moments.”

Once the armorer was on his way with the ammunition boxes loaded on the hand cart, Weidyn turned back to the imagers. “That's as good a statement as you'll ever get from Aloisyn. The better accuracy may help as much as your other touches.” He paused. “Usually, something that's individually made…”

“Each cartridge and each bullet was imaged to a precise template,” said Cyran. “If you take care, the results can be very precise.”

“So it seems.” Weidyn inclined his head. “You will inform me when we know more about the coming evolution?”

“As soon as we know,” promised Alastar.

The two imagers watched as Weidyn strode northward toward his company.

Alastar cleared his throat. “You and Alyna really worked on finish and balance, didn't you?”

“That was her doing. I experimented a bit with the composition. Arthos had a few ideas, also.”

At that moment, a junior squad leader hurried up, inclining his head to Alastar. “Sir, the marshal and the commander thought you should hear the latest scouting report.”

“We'll talk more later,” Alastar said to Cyran before turning back to the trooper. “Lead the way.”

As Alastar neared the command tent, he saw two rankers waiting outside with a squad leader and decided that the three, or at least the rankers, were scouts. When he entered, Wilkorn and Maurek were seated on canvas camp stools, side by side looking at the same map they had been studying before. Both rose.

“Have the scouts come in,” ordered the marshal.

The two rankers Alastar had seen outside the command tent entered, stiffening to attention in front of the camp table. “Sir.”

“You two were the only ones to return from a scouting mission. Is that correct?” asked Maurek.

“Yes, sir.”

“How did that happen?”

The taller man looked at the shorter.

The shorter scout cleared his throat nervously. “We were with second squad, third scout company. We rode though Caluse before dawn this morning. We didn't see anyone. Saw smoke from chimneys, like folks were fixing breakfast. Some teamsters at the brewery were rolling barrels up a ramp onto an old dray. South of town, the captain sent each squad a different way. He and first squad went south on the river road. We went with first squad for more than a mille, might have been another half mille past the millestone. That was where the captain told the squad leader—that's Plessat—for us to scout the side road that headed off. That's what Plessat said, anyway. Once we were away from the main road, Plessat detailed me and Borkel here, to fall back two quints. Told us that if anything strange happened, anything happened to the rest of the squad, we were to hightail it back to camp and report. Maybe a mille out, we came to another road, a good wide road. Not paved, but graveled some. Plessat took the squad south on the side road. Looked like anyplace else we've been seeing. Fields, cots, woodlots. Musta been another two milles on…” The scout looked to Borkel.

“A quint more'n two milles, seemed to me.”

“That was when it happened, right after they road past this orchard, apples, I think. I was looking right at the others. Like I blinked, most of the squad was gone, excepting Fedor and Daffyr. They were maybe twenty yards back of the others. Then, suddenlike they were gone, too. Like they weren't there at all.”

Wilkorn and Maurek looked to Alastar.

“What happened then? Did you hear anything?”

“Next thing we know, Fedor appears, except he's riding toward us, low on his mount. Then there were lots of shots, and he and his mount go down. Leastwise, I swear on the Nameless that's what we saw. Except we're looking, and he disappears, like he'd never been there.”

Borkel nodded.

“Anything else? Horses? Voices?”

“We were more than half a mille away, sir.”

“Where did the shots come from?” asked Alastar.

“They must have come from the orchard. Leastwise, I couldn't see anyone anywhere else. Don't see how the squad disappeared, though.” The scout shook his head. “Just gone, and then Fedor shows up, and then he's gone. Enough to make a man question his eyes. Maybe all his senses, too.”

“What did you do then?”

“Like we were ordered. We turned our mounts and rode like the Namer was after us. When you see a whole squad disappear…” The shorter scout shook his head, then looked to Borkel. “Best you finish.”

“Well, sirs,” said the taller scout, “we went back to the main road, but we didn't see the rest of the company. I mean, we saw the traces showing them heading south on the river road. Weren't no traces coming back, and we had orders. So we rode back here. We didn't see no sign of any other troopers, theirs or ours, till we got back to our picket lines.”

“You didn't see traces or tracks of other horses on that side road?” asked Alastar.

“No, sir.”

“Could you tell how many shots were fired at Fedor?”

“Sounded like two squads, maybe, but all at once. Then there weren't any more.”

“Did anyone fire at you?”

“Not so as we could tell, sir.”