Alucius. “Besides mud?”
Bakka
glanced down at the dusty clay of the courtyard for a moment, then at the
captain. “There weren’t any signs of anything, sir. I looked over the riverbanks
good, like you said, but I didn’t see any signs of rafts or boats, or anyone
watering loads of mounts. No wagons tracks, or hoofprints along the shoulders
of the road. No new tracks around the place where you ambushed the raiders. I
rode around Tuuler. That’s where it was the muddiest—”
“What
was the mud like there?” asked Alucius.
Bakka
grinned sheepishly. “Well, sir. I was thinking that it might be because they’d
had riders. I was real careful. Even checked the back lanes. Reason it was so
muddy was because someone had left open the gate on one of the irrigation
ditches and when the water started to rise…”
Alucius
laughed. Then he frowned. Could that have been a way to cover tracks? He shook
his head. He doubted that even the most adventurous trooper leader or any
brigand would go to that trouble. One of the problems with being a captain was
a growing suspicion of everything.
The
other aspect of being captain that Alucius hated was not being able to do his
own scouting. As captain, he could no longer scout, not out alone by himself,
where he was most effective, and he had no one who was anywhere near as good as
he was. So often he felt almost blind in relying on his scouts, even as he did
his best to coach them.
“Sir?”
“I’d
wondered…never mind.” Alucius offered his captain’s professional smile. “Thank
you, Bakka. Report what you told me to your squad leader. Carry on.”
“Yes,
sir.” Bakka nodded and turned.
Alucius
looked out over the walls toward the silver-green sky to the east and the faint
hazy clouds that suggested that the warming would continue for at least another
day. Then he turned at looked northward at the towering ramparts of the Aerlal
Plateau.
Although
he had his own ideas, he still had no firm answers or proof as to why anyone
would want to raid Tuuler—or even create the impression of using Tuuler as a
staging base. Nor did he have any response from Colonel Clyon, and he wasn’t
sure which bothered him more.
He
turned and walked back toward the center of the courtyard, nodding toward
Sawyn. “Fifth squad! Break’s over. We’ll go to two on one, now.”
At
least, Alucius reflected, he’d keep sharpening his company’s weapons skills.
16
Borlan,
Lanachrona
T he
majer in the blue-and-cream uniform knocked on the door, then
straightened his tunic nervously.
“Come
on in, Ebuin.” The captain-colonel was sitting behind a dark oak table desk,
but rose as the more junior Southern Guard officer entered and closed the door
behind him.
“I
have a report, sir.”
“What’s
wrong now?” asked the captain-colonel.
“Sir?”
“You
always smile when you have bad news, and you shift your weight from foot to
foot. You need to break that habit.” The captain-colonel’s smile was open and
friendly. “Sit down and tell me about it.” He reseated himself and waited.
Majer
Ebuin sat on the edge of the straight-backed chair, looking squarely at his
senior officer. “The marauder squad…it’s disappeared. From what our informants
in both Emal and Dekhron can tell us, the Iron Valleys Militia wiped them out
to the last man.”
“To
the last man? That seems…extreme.”
“They
ran into the militia’s Twenty-first Horse. The captain—the one you had
expressed concerns to me about—reported to militia headquarters that he had run
into a group of Deforyan brigands. Apparently, none of them survived his
attack.”
“Your
sources are good?”
“The
same as always, sir.”
“And
none of them escaped? He must have gone out determined to destroy them.” The
captain-colonel nodded, then tugged at his earlobe. “He is a determined type.
We had reports that he was rather good. I had been assured that some
other…efforts…might have solved that problem,
Bakka
glanced down at the dusty clay of the courtyard for a moment, then at the
captain. “There weren’t any signs of anything, sir. I looked over the riverbanks
good, like you said, but I didn’t see any signs of rafts or boats, or anyone
watering loads of mounts. No wagons tracks, or hoofprints along the shoulders
of the road. No new tracks around the place where you ambushed the raiders. I
rode around Tuuler. That’s where it was the muddiest—”
“What
was the mud like there?” asked Alucius.
Bakka
grinned sheepishly. “Well, sir. I was thinking that it might be because they’d
had riders. I was real careful. Even checked the back lanes. Reason it was so
muddy was because someone had left open the gate on one of the irrigation
ditches and when the water started to rise…”
Alucius
laughed. Then he frowned. Could that have been a way to cover tracks? He shook
his head. He doubted that even the most adventurous trooper leader or any
brigand would go to that trouble. One of the problems with being a captain was
a growing suspicion of everything.
The
other aspect of being captain that Alucius hated was not being able to do his
own scouting. As captain, he could no longer scout, not out alone by himself,
where he was most effective, and he had no one who was anywhere near as good as
he was. So often he felt almost blind in relying on his scouts, even as he did
his best to coach them.
“Sir?”
“I’d
wondered…never mind.” Alucius offered his captain’s professional smile. “Thank
you, Bakka. Report what you told me to your squad leader. Carry on.”
“Yes,
sir.” Bakka nodded and turned.
Alucius
looked out over the walls toward the silver-green sky to the east and the faint
hazy clouds that suggested that the warming would continue for at least another
day. Then he turned at looked northward at the towering ramparts of the Aerlal
Plateau.
Although
he had his own ideas, he still had no firm answers or proof as to why anyone
would want to raid Tuuler—or even create the impression of using Tuuler as a
staging base. Nor did he have any response from Colonel Clyon, and he wasn’t
sure which bothered him more.
He
turned and walked back toward the center of the courtyard, nodding toward
Sawyn. “Fifth squad! Break’s over. We’ll go to two on one, now.”
At
least, Alucius reflected, he’d keep sharpening his company’s weapons skills.
16
Borlan,
Lanachrona
T he
majer in the blue-and-cream uniform knocked on the door, then
straightened his tunic nervously.
“Come
on in, Ebuin.” The captain-colonel was sitting behind a dark oak table desk,
but rose as the more junior Southern Guard officer entered and closed the door
behind him.
“I
have a report, sir.”
“What’s
wrong now?” asked the captain-colonel.
“Sir?”
“You
always smile when you have bad news, and you shift your weight from foot to
foot. You need to break that habit.” The captain-colonel’s smile was open and
friendly. “Sit down and tell me about it.” He reseated himself and waited.
Majer
Ebuin sat on the edge of the straight-backed chair, looking squarely at his
senior officer. “The marauder squad…it’s disappeared. From what our informants
in both Emal and Dekhron can tell us, the Iron Valleys Militia wiped them out
to the last man.”
“To
the last man? That seems…extreme.”
“They
ran into the militia’s Twenty-first Horse. The captain—the one you had
expressed concerns to me about—reported to militia headquarters that he had run
into a group of Deforyan brigands. Apparently, none of them survived his
attack.”
“Your
sources are good?”
“The
same as always, sir.”
“And
none of them escaped? He must have gone out determined to destroy them.” The
captain-colonel nodded, then tugged at his earlobe. “He is a determined type.
We had reports that he was rather good. I had been assured that some
other…efforts…might have solved that problem,
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