Treachery's Tools (67 page)

“You have another group ready, I recall,” said Maurek.

“We do. That's why Maitre Cyran is here.”

“We have a plan to deal with the company that is patrolling the river road to the north of Caluse,” said Wilkorn. “If we attack there, it might force them to consider keeping their forces closer together.”

Alastar frowned. “I thought the idea was to fragment them so that we could pick them off and reduce their numbers.”

“We don't want them too fragmented,” Maurek replied. “If they spread into separate battalions and attack at different times and places, that would be hard to defend.”

“In any case,” said Wilkorn smoothly, “we think there's a chance to totally destroy a patrol company and then set up an ambush for the force that comes after us. We'd like to take advantage of your imagers as much as possible before the rebels realize that their best chance is an all-out attack on our main force. Commander Maurek will be in command.”

Alastar nodded and waited to hear what more either the marshal or the commander had to say.

“About two milles north of Caluse,” began Maurek, “the river road swings away from the river around a huge rocky outcropping. The space in front of the rock is bare. There's some grass there, but not a lot, and no trees, and no cover. If your imagers could conceal a company there, and in the open space north of the outcropping, we could put several squads in plain sight on the road in the open…”

Alastar and Cyran listened as the commander laid out the plan.

“What do you think?” asked Wilkorn when Maurek had finished.

“It sounds like a good plan,” replied Alastar, “but you'd be splitting the imagers into two groups.”

“We're only asking for concealments,” pointed out Maurek. “We could wipe out at least a company.”

Alastar looked to Cyran. “You're going to be the one implementing it. What do you think?”

“How long is the outcrop … how far does it go beside the road?” asked Cyran.

“About half a mille.”

“How much space is there between the rock outcropping and the river?”

“None. The rock is a sheer cliff straight down into the water.”

“What about between the road and the rock at the west end?”

“No more than a few yards for most of the way.”

“What about the west side of the road?”

“Low rocky hills. No trees … some bushes.”

Cyran nodded slowly. “I have some ideas, but we'll have to see. When do you plan to leave?”

“Sixth glass.”

“Second group will be ready.”

Less than half a quint later, after the details had been finalized, Alastar and Cyran walked back toward the imager area.

“I don't have to tell you this,” Alastar said, “but I will. Think of it this way. Every imager is worth a battalion.”

Cyran's laugh was low and humorless. “A good thought to keep in mind with Maurek in command.”

“He is right about reducing the numbers of rebels while we can … unfortunately.”

While Cyran readied the second group, Alastar worried. He was still worrying when the six imagers rode south to form up with the three-company group commanded by Maurek. Part of that was his worry that Cyran was too defensive in his outlook.

But it could be said that you take the offensive too readily.
And how much of Cyran's apparent reluctance was deference? Alastar didn't know, but suspected he might just find out over the next week or so, if not sooner.

By the fourth glass of the afternoon, Alastar found himself glancing to the south all too often, even though he knew it was hardly likely that Cyran and the second group of imagers could return before fifth or sixth glass.

At fifth glass, Alastar noticed companies of troopers mounting up and riding south.

He immediately made his way to the command tent where Wilkorn offered a knowing glance. “I thought I'd be seeing you. We just got a messenger from Maurek. The ambush went well, and they're on the way back. He's being chased by almost a mounted battalion. We're sending reinforcements.”

“The imagers?”

“That's all I know.”

“Maurek had almost a battalion when he left here,” Alastar said. “If the ambush went well…”

“He wouldn't withdraw if it weren't absolutely necessary.”

From the commander's words the day before, Alastar had no doubts about that, but a withdrawal raised other questions. Had the imagers run into trouble? Or was more than a battalion in pursuit? Yet there was little he could do … except gather the first group of imagers if it became necessary.

At two quints past sixth glass, a messenger galloped up to the command tent. Before he could even dismount, Alastar and Wilkorn were standing there.

“The rebels saw the reinforcements and turned back, sirs. A little less than three milles south of here.”

“Thank you. You can go.”

That was all that Wilkorn said, but Alastar could read the relief in the marshal's face and posture.

Once the messenger had ridden off, the marshal shook his head. “That's closer than either of us planned.”

“Everything's been that way.”

“From the beginning.” Wilkorn shook his head. “Told you, Maitre, that I was getting too old for this sort of thing. Even with two good arms.” He glanced down at the still-splinted arm.

*   *   *

Almost another glass passed before the vanguard of the returning troopers rode up the road and into the encampment. Alastar made his way toward the imager encampment, then waited and watched, counting the riders as Cyran reined up. He hurried toward the Maitre D'Esprit. Cyran wasn't pale. He was ashen, his face a sickly gray.

Alastar didn't ask. He just grabbed Cyran's empty water bottle from his saddlebag, uncorked it, and imaged it full of passible if bitter dark lager, then thrust it at the Maitre D'Esprit. “Drink! Now!”

Cyran didn't argue.

Alastar glanced across to the other five. Tiranya was merely pale, as were Taryn and Belsior. Chervyt's face and neck were grayish green, and Julyan's skin looked white.

Alastar made his way to Chervyt first. “Have you had any lager?”

The Maitre D'Aspect just looked at Alastar blankly. Alastar immediately took the junior maitre's water bottle and imaged dark lager into it, then returned it with the same command he'd given Cyran. He did the same with Julyan. When he turned toward Tiranya, she shook her head. “Just a little. We shared what I had.”

Alastar still filled all the water bottles. None of the three remaining imagers protested.

More than a quint passed while Alastar and the imagers of the first group helped unsaddle and groom the mounts of the returning imagers. Both Chervyt and Julyan had to be helped from the saddle.

In time, Alastar and Cyran sat at the base of an oak that had seen better days, scattered yellow leaves clearly showing that it had suffered from the earlier drought despite its closeness to the river.

“What happened?”

“We won … but we almost didn't survive the victory.” Cyran took another swallow from the water bottle he still held. “You image lousy lager, Alastar … except it's better than what I can do.”

Alastar forced himself to wait.

“The ambush … went fine. The company patrolling the road was infantry. They marched right into the crossfire Maurek set up. They lost almost the whole company right off. But there were two companies on the hills, under a concealment, and they opened fire, ripped right into the lead ranks of Maurek's men—even if they couldn't see them.”

“But … if they were there … why wait?” Alastar didn't understand.

“The company that walked into the ambush … they weren't troopers—serfs, tenants, prisoners…”

“They sacrificed a hundred men … in cold blood?”

“That was the plan.” Cyran offered a ragged grin. “We upset it a bit. Between Maurek's reserves and the imagers, we pretty much took care of the two companies on the rocky hills. The problem was that the rebels brought in two more companies from the northwest, and another two from Caluse.”

“What did you do?”

“Imaged a bridge along the east side of the road, got our imagers together and formed a shield wedge. We used the wooden dart trick to cut through the two companies to the north, and between us and the troopers, we broke through. Likely killed more'n half of those troopers, but we had three mounted companies chasing us, and the troopers were running out of ammunition. A lot of it was passed to the rear-guard. Rear-guard kept up running fire on the rebel troopers behind us. Slowed them down, and cost them more troopers. It was a long ride back. We were too exhausted to image anything, and we only stopped for fractions of a quint at a time. The rebels didn't turn back until a couple of milles south of here. They saw the reinforcements coming from the north, decided maybe they'd lost enough.”

“How many troopers did Maurek lose?”

“A good company's worth, maybe more.”

“And the rebels?”

“Wouldn't be surprised if it cost them close to a battalion.”

“So they might outnumber us by only two to one?”

“It's better than before.” Cyran took another swallow of lager. “This isn't bad. Not after a while.”

“No lager's that bad if you drink enough … until any lager's too much.”

“Probably ought to stop. Namer-damned rebels … never saw so many bodies, so much blood. Don't think any of the others ever did, either.” Cyran forced a grin. “Good thing it's your turn tomorrow, Alastar.”

“I told you I had a feeling.”

“I know. I hate it when you have those feelings.”

“So do I.” Alastar stood. “You need some sleep. I know I do, and I haven't had anywhere near the day you've had.”

“That's not a bad idea. Not at all.” Cyran stood slowly. “I feel as old as you.”

“I'm not that much older than you. Just five years.”

“That's what a fight like that will do.”

As Cyran walked away, Alastar stood there, looking to the bloody orb of Erion, hanging just over the trees on the east side of the river.
Hunter's moon … or killing moon?

He shook his head. He did need sleep.

 

44

By sixth glass on Jeudi morning, Alastar and Cyran were once more in the command tent with Maurek and Wilkorn.

“We need to hit them quickly,” insisted Maurek. “Keep them off-balance. Make them feel that it's not safe for them to stay that long in Caluse. If you could strike in the town itself, while they're regrouping…”

“We could certainly use concealments around the town, but we'll need some support, and there are only a few roads and lanes that lead into Caluse. I can't imagine that the rebels are going to leave them unguarded after yesterday. We could easily get close to any guard forces, but we'd likely end up in a battle with them, especially if they decide to stand their ground.”

“Yesterday I had some of the scouts looking. They've found some back lanes that join the main road west from Caluse less than a mille from the town. That's less than half a mille from one of their encampments.”

“How did they get so close without trouble?” asked Alastar.

“Not much difference in uniforms except for the armbands. We picked up a score or so of them along the way. I thought they might be useful.”

The offhanded way Maurek mentioned the armbands impressed Alastar. “How many extra milles will we have to ride?”

“Not that many. You can take the same lane where you replaced the bridge and stay on it until just past the point where you fought the first skirmish, and if you ride across one bean field, you can get on decent lanes that will take you there.” Maurek pointed to the map. “Here is where you fought. Now … if you go this way…”

Alastar saw the possibilities. Still … “Those lanes are narrow. If we get trapped—”

“My best scouts looked into that. There's no easy way to get a large force to those lanes, except by the ways you're going. If you send scouts ahead, you can just withdraw if they see a large force. Once you're in the territory they patrol … well … we've got enough armbands for the lead squad. You've said that they only have a few imagers. Are they going to waste one on a side lane when they need to worry about the river road and the larger ways?”

Alastar had to admit that Maurek had a point there. “Are there cannon at that encampment?”

“There are, but they can't bring cannon to bear that quickly,” Wilkorn said.

“That wasn't why I asked. I still don't see the point of risking imagers just to kill even another company's worth of rebel troopers. If we can destroy even some of their powder and cannon … that's very much another matter.”

“You'd have to get much closer…”

“We'd need fewer troopers and fewer imagers. A squad at most,” suggested Alastar. “And the armbands would be most useful.”

Maurek frowned.

“We won't get close enough to do what we need to do with a larger force.”

“He's right about that,” added Wilkorn.

“When do you want to leave?”

“The sooner the better.”

“You'll have a squad in two to three quints, if not a little sooner,” said Wilkorn, a faint smile on his lips.

Once Alastar and Cyran were away from the command tent, Cyran looked to Alastar, “Are you sure I shouldn't be doing this?”

“No, but Maurek's right. This is something that needs to be done quickly, before someone realizes it can be done … and I've been successful at doing this before. You could do it … tomorrow or the next day.”

“What if the rebels have thought about the possibility?”

“It's unlikely. Even if Bettaur is on their side, he wasn't privy to it when we did this the last time.”