Antiagon Fire

50

Over the next week, the imagers widened roads and visited three more empty high holdings. At each holding, there were tracks and traces heading south. Quaeryt and the imagers leveled them all. When they finally returned to Geusyn, with the regiments, it was more than a week later, and Skarpa, Vaelora, and Quaeryt met once more in the small plaques room in the River Inn after dinner on Vendrei evening.

“We’re almost a week into Fevier, and we’re in no better position than we were a month ago. You and the imagers have destroyed five high holdings, but gained little in golds and no allegiance.” Skarpa took a deep breath and then a swallow of the beaker of lager before him. “Except we can’t do anything more because they’ve all crossed the border into Antiago. Every last one of them.”

“Perhaps it’s time we went into Antiago,” suggested Quaeryt.

“I’d ask if you’re serious, except I’m afraid you’ll tell me you are.”

“I am. We could send dispatches to Aliaro, but he’d just reply politely and say that he doesn’t have any control over Bovarian High Holders and if they choose to visit lovely Antiago, he certainly can’t stop them.”

“Deucalon will claim the Autarch hasn’t done anything against us,” Skarpa pointed out.

“Oh … he hasn’t. Outside of sending troopers and Antiagon Fire against us in support of Kharst. Or attacking Telaryn ships in the open Gulf. Or harboring five High Holders who failed to pay tariffs to either Kharst or Bhayar,” replied Quaeryt, “and who not only failed to pledge allegiance to Bhayar, but fled rather than do so.”

“He’ll claim that we didn’t ask Aliaro for their return.”

“He probably will,” admitted Quaeryt. “But Aliaro will delay answering and then admit to nothing while readying his defenses, his imagers, and his Antiagon Fire. He might even make noise about the fact that Bhayar can’t even control his own High Holders. Bhayar wants control over both Antiago and Khel, and he can’t get Khel unless he takes Antiago. The longer he waits, the more men and time it will cost. And Aliaro has already raised arms and ships against us when we did nothing against him.”

“You’re intent on invading Antiago, aren’t you?”

“How many troopers did we lose and how many did Deucalon lose by following Myskyl’s advice?”

“Thousands,” admitted Skarpa.

“If we’re successful, is Bhayar going to give Antiago back to Aliaro?” asked Quaeryt.

“After the way Aliaro treated our sister?” added Vaelora sardonically.

“And if we’re not successful?”

“Doing nothing but sitting and waiting will be considered failure. Is there an alternative with Deucalon and Myskyl waiting for us to fail?”

“If we succeed, Khel will have to agree to terms,” said Skarpa slowly. “We either succeed mightily … or fail grandly.”

“Do we really have another choice?” Given who we are?

“How do you plan to attack Antiago?”

“Quickly … and without warning. There are only five major cities, and that’s if we count Kephria, which might not even be a large town. We take them, except for Westisle, which we can’t because it’s on an island … and take Aliaro … and try to make people understand that we’re not out to destroy them personally.”

“That’s…” Skarpa shook his head.

“Harder than it sounds,” Quaeryt admitted. “And I could be wrong.” And you often are. “But I can’t believe Aliaro’s liked all that well.”

“Few rulers are. Don’t you think the Khellans would agree to terms anyway?” asked Skarpa.

“In a generation or so when the land is overrun with opportunists and shady merchants … except it won’t go on that long, because the merchants and traders will all be petitioning Bhayar to do something because the Pharsi will be either driving them out by better trading or removing them by quiet force.”

“What about Khaern and the rest of Eleventh Regiment? How soon do you expect them to return?”

“It could be within the week. It could be two weeks. It depends on the winds and the sea state.”

“When do you want to start this assault? Tomorrow?” asked Skarpa dryly.

“I was thinking about Solayi morning. No one attacks on Solayi. Since Aliaro won’t be expecting anything so soon…”

“You think we can take Kephra more easily.”

“That’s the hope.” Quaeryt frankly harbored the thought that they might not encounter serious resistance until they neared Liantiago. You’re assuming that you can even get that far with seven regiments against an entire land.

“You realize that we’re likely doomed if we don’t succeed,” Skarpa pointed out.

“We’re likely doomed if we do nothing,” replied Quaeryt. “That doom will just happen more slowly.”

“Would you take your two regiments alone into Antiago?”

“I’ll take all that I can, if I have to,” replied Quaeryt. “I am missing half a regiment and Calkoran’s battalion at the moment.”

“Why?”

“Because right now is the only chance we’ll have to do it right.”

“You can’t invade another country without killing thousands.”

“Exactly,” replied Quaeryt. “If we don’t invade Antiago now, someone will have to invade Khel and Antiago in the next ten years, and each invasion will cost more than our doing it now.”

“You don’t think the three lands could live in peace?”

“They never have. Even when they were supposedly at peace, there were raids and skirmishes. Every time one land has been markedly stronger than another, there was an invasion and a consolidation. It’s going to take place. The only question is when and how many lives it costs. You and Meinyt told me that one of the biggest dangers for a commander was waiting too long.” You’re twisting that a bit, but …

“Meinyt’s always believed that.”

“Do you disagree?”

“I don’t disagree with his point, but we haven’t been given orders to invade Antiago.”

“No … but we have been given orders to obtain the allegiance of the High Holders, and we can’t even get a hold of them without invading Antiago. So we fail if we do nothing, and if we’re to succeed we end up invading Antiago one way or the other.”

“And…” Skarpa paused before adding, “You can’t get Khel to agree to terms without Bhayar having control over Antiago. So we’re both frigging screwed unless we start another war … and win it.”

“That’s the way I see it. What about you?”

Skarpa shook his head. “I’d like to find Deucalon in a dark alley and put a blade up under his ribs, but then we’d have to deal with Myskyl, and that wouldn’t be any better.”

“Worse, more likely.”

Skarpa abruptly turned to Vaelora. “Lady … you’ve been quiet. You’re Bhayar’s sister and an envoy. What do you think?”

Vaelora offered a sad smile, but did not speak.

Both men waited.

Finally, she spoke. “I think that if you do your best the war will be short and bloody. If you try to be kind and merciful in battle, it will be long and bloody, and more will die.”

“You sound like your father,” said Skarpa.

“How could I not? I’ve heard what he saw. I’ve seen what Quaeryt has done, and how worrying about what people think always makes things worse.”

Skarpa looked to Quaeryt. “The plaques are red. How do you want to proceed?”

“I’d like to scout the wall early tomorrow and meet with you when I get back. I don’t think we should tell any of the regimental commanders much beyond the fact that we expect heavy fighting on Lundi. It’s not as though we’ve got any way to scout Kephria, and even if we sent a spy…”

“It wouldn’t do much good.”

Quaeryt shook his head. Not when you plan to bring down the wall.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. I need to think about a few things.” Skarpa paused. “I imagine you do, too.” He looked to Vaelora.

She took the hint and rose from her chair. “We all do, Commander. I appreciate your thoughtful questions, and my brother will appreciate all the concerns about what is in his best interests.”

“Rulers don’t usually appreciate much besides success,” said Skarpa as he and Quaeryt stood.

“That’s why you and Quaeryt will do what you must, and why I will support and aid you both as I can.”

Skarpa nodded. “Thank you, Lady.”

Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora spoke more until they had returned to their chamber.

Once Quaeryt had closed the door and slid the bolt, Vaelora looked at him. “What are you thinking this very moment, dearest?”

“About the entire future of Lydar being decided in the smallest plaques room in an old inn in a run-down town on the Laar River.” He shook his head. “What about you?”

“I’m angry with the High Council of Khel. They’re being stupid and shortsighted, and they should know better. I don’t expect more from Aliaro.”

“Especially after the way he treated Chaerila?”

“She was so sweet, and when she died giving birth to his child … and he remarried in less than a season and only sent a curt dispatch.” She shook her head. “Khel is too weak to hold out.”

“Was I too hard on Skarpa?”

“It’s something you two had to talk out.”

“He trusts you. That’s clear.”

“That’s because he’s a good judge of character.” Vaelora smiled, briefly.

“How do you think this campaign will go?”

“No matter what you do, it will be bloody. All wars are. The shorter the fighting is, the fewer people who will die.”

“And the more decisive and brutal the imagers and I will have to be.”

She nodded again. “But over the years fewer will die, and others will be happier. If you survive. You must survive, or all will be for naught.”

“Another farsight?”

“No … just an understanding of what must be.”

Quaeryt walked to the window, as if to look out, before realizing that the inner shutters were still closed.

“It’s dark. There’s nothing to see,” Vaelora said gently, walking toward the narrow table that served as a desk. “For all your words … you’re worried.”

“More than worried. I know that taking over Antiago will be for the best for everyone in the long run. People don’t think that way.”

“Dearest … remember what I said about Bhayar not being successful without you? This is one of those times. If he makes the decision to invade, everyone will know. It will take longer and cost more lives. If you do it…”

“Then he can claim brilliance if it works and blame us if it doesn’t.”

“You don’t need to keep going over it and over it tonight.”

“What would you suggest I do?”

“First … remember to lay out your uniforms so that I can have them all washed and fullered tomorrow.”

“All of them?”

“You know what I mean.” Vaelora then offered an impish smile that he knew was forced as she stepped away from the table toward him. “Read this, if you would, dearest?” She extended the copy of Rholan and the Nameless. “It might take your mind off what lies ahead.”

Quaeryt wasn’t certain that anything would, but he took the book. “It’s too dark to read.”

“You could light the lamp on the table.”

He did by imaging it into flame, then sat on the straight-backed chair and began to read at the place where Vaelora’s finger pointed.

Among the many conflicting stories about Rholan’s death was that of the man in gray who sought him on the days before he disappeared, and since the assassins of Estisle always wore gray, many speculated that young Hengyst had dispatched one. It is not beyond the pale to entertain that notion, but Rholan had enemies other than Hengyst, and most were far closer … including High Holder Doulyn of Douvyt, who had wed his half brother’s widow, and who had forbid her to ever meet with Rholan. While there is no record of the two meeting, there were rumors for years, although those died away quickly when Doulyn died of “bad food” less than a month after Rholan’s disappearance, especially when her only son by Doulyn became High Holder of Douvyt.

When he finished, Quaeryt looked up quizzically. “Why this passage?”

“Don’t you think it’s rather odd?”

“What?”

Vaelora offered an exasperated sigh. “Rholan’s death, her being forbidden to meet with him, and then Doulyn’s death.”

“You don’t think Doulyn’s death was an accident at all, do you?”

“Of course not. That’s not the point. The writer never mentions Thierysa’s name here, but she’s mentioned elsewhere. Doesn’t some of what’s written here seem strange?”

“Right now, everything seems strange.” He closed the book and handed it back to her. “I suppose all times are strange to those trying to change them. Rholan was successful in changing some things … and no one really knows who he was. Except for those long dead or the few that read this book.”

“I wonder if she loved him.”

“She didn’t marry him.”

“She couldn’t. Not without destroying her family. I’m fortunate.”

“I’m not so certain,” Quaeryt said slowly. “She couldn’t marry, even if she had wanted to, and we don’t know whether she did. You had to marry me so that I can make your brother ruler of all Lydar. Both of you had no choice.”

“But I discovered I could love you. She didn’t love Doulyn. Just the way the book is written makes that clear.”

“Then we’re both fortunate.” Quaeryt stood.

“We are.” Vaelora wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Quaeryt tried just to concentrate on her.