but they didn’t work out either.
I’m not as pleased as I could be. The Lord-Protector doesn’t like bad news, and
that means that Marshal Wyerl doesn’t. And we don’t want to make the marshal
unhappy.”
“No,
sir.”
“Your
idea of using Deforyan rifles was a good touch, though.” The captain-colonel’s
open smile returned. “Have you any other ideas along those lines?”
“Make
an attack at Emal from the east—with two companies. The attackers should be
attired in the tunics of Deforya.”
“Why
would we want to do that?”
“You
can test the strength of the Iron Valley Militia, perhaps weaken it—and blame
the attack on the Landarch of Deforya.”
“Not
a bad idea—unless we lose more troopers, and that would be likely against the
Twenty-first Company. If we go against the Fifth, we would not lose so many,
but there wouldn’t be much point in that, now, would there? Besides, we may
need those troopers in the future. We would rather do without their captain,
however.”
“We
know the patrol schedules, and we can make sure that the captain of the
Twenty-first gets information to put him in the right place.”
“I’m
sure you can, but we can’t go around having Southern Guards attacking the Iron
Valleys—even in Deforyan tunics, and even if they annihilate this…problem. And
it would be even more embarrassing if someone were to be captured. And
explaining…” The captain-colonel shrugged. “You understand.”
“Can
you give me leave and the funds to hire two hundred mercenaries?” asked Ebuin.
“That
might be possible, if you can make sure that whoever hires these brigands
speaks in the dialect of the Deforyans. It will take a week or so to gather the
Deforyan golds, also.” After a moment, the captain-colonel added, “You might
see if your agents could hire a sniper or two. Or three. We’d really rather
keep the troopers. They could be useful in the east, if it comes to that.”
“Yes,
sir.”
17
I n
the dim glow of a single oil lamp in the small mess room, well past
sunset and the evening supper of excessively aged and baked mutton, Alucius and
Feran sat on opposite sides of the table, Feran’s leschec board between them.
The first two weeks of spring had passed, and the mud that had covered almost
every thoroughfare and lane had finally begun to disappear, either into dust or
damp packed clay.
“We
still haven’t heard anything from the colonel,” Alucius said, moving his lesser
pteridon.
“You’re
going to win again,” Feran said resignedly. “I don’t know why I play with you.
You can spot me your soarer queen, and three footwarriors, and I still can’t
beat you. You could have made a small fortune if you’d played when you were a
ranker.”
“That’s
why I didn’t. It’s why I don’t play for coin,” Alucius replied, almost
absently. “Why do you think the colonel hasn’t replied?”
“Maybe
he has. If the roads west of here are as bad as ours are…”
“Three
weeks is a long time.”
“What
could he say?” countered Feran, his voice turning ironic as he continued.
“Captains, thank you so much for confirming that mischief is afoot and for
embarrassing someone so dramatically. Of course, I can’t say that officially,
and if I make any guesses, it will upset either the Council, the Lord-Protector,
the Landarch of Deforya, or perhaps all three.”
Alucius
laughed, heartily. “Thank you! That’s the best explanation you could have made,
and probably the most correct.”
“If
it is,” Feran replied dourly, “I’ll be a captain here or at Rivercliff until I
receive a stipend, and that’s another ten years.”
“You
want to be a majer like Weslyn? Or Dysar?”
“I
could do as well as Dysar did. Anyone could have. He was the kind that makes
sour peaches taste good,” Feran pointed out.
“The
Council liked him.”
“Of
course they did. He didn’t want to spend coins on weapons or training or
replacement mounts. He arranged for
I’m not as pleased as I could be. The Lord-Protector doesn’t like bad news, and
that means that Marshal Wyerl doesn’t. And we don’t want to make the marshal
unhappy.”
“No,
sir.”
“Your
idea of using Deforyan rifles was a good touch, though.” The captain-colonel’s
open smile returned. “Have you any other ideas along those lines?”
“Make
an attack at Emal from the east—with two companies. The attackers should be
attired in the tunics of Deforya.”
“Why
would we want to do that?”
“You
can test the strength of the Iron Valley Militia, perhaps weaken it—and blame
the attack on the Landarch of Deforya.”
“Not
a bad idea—unless we lose more troopers, and that would be likely against the
Twenty-first Company. If we go against the Fifth, we would not lose so many,
but there wouldn’t be much point in that, now, would there? Besides, we may
need those troopers in the future. We would rather do without their captain,
however.”
“We
know the patrol schedules, and we can make sure that the captain of the
Twenty-first gets information to put him in the right place.”
“I’m
sure you can, but we can’t go around having Southern Guards attacking the Iron
Valleys—even in Deforyan tunics, and even if they annihilate this…problem. And
it would be even more embarrassing if someone were to be captured. And
explaining…” The captain-colonel shrugged. “You understand.”
“Can
you give me leave and the funds to hire two hundred mercenaries?” asked Ebuin.
“That
might be possible, if you can make sure that whoever hires these brigands
speaks in the dialect of the Deforyans. It will take a week or so to gather the
Deforyan golds, also.” After a moment, the captain-colonel added, “You might
see if your agents could hire a sniper or two. Or three. We’d really rather
keep the troopers. They could be useful in the east, if it comes to that.”
“Yes,
sir.”
17
I n
the dim glow of a single oil lamp in the small mess room, well past
sunset and the evening supper of excessively aged and baked mutton, Alucius and
Feran sat on opposite sides of the table, Feran’s leschec board between them.
The first two weeks of spring had passed, and the mud that had covered almost
every thoroughfare and lane had finally begun to disappear, either into dust or
damp packed clay.
“We
still haven’t heard anything from the colonel,” Alucius said, moving his lesser
pteridon.
“You’re
going to win again,” Feran said resignedly. “I don’t know why I play with you.
You can spot me your soarer queen, and three footwarriors, and I still can’t
beat you. You could have made a small fortune if you’d played when you were a
ranker.”
“That’s
why I didn’t. It’s why I don’t play for coin,” Alucius replied, almost
absently. “Why do you think the colonel hasn’t replied?”
“Maybe
he has. If the roads west of here are as bad as ours are…”
“Three
weeks is a long time.”
“What
could he say?” countered Feran, his voice turning ironic as he continued.
“Captains, thank you so much for confirming that mischief is afoot and for
embarrassing someone so dramatically. Of course, I can’t say that officially,
and if I make any guesses, it will upset either the Council, the Lord-Protector,
the Landarch of Deforya, or perhaps all three.”
Alucius
laughed, heartily. “Thank you! That’s the best explanation you could have made,
and probably the most correct.”
“If
it is,” Feran replied dourly, “I’ll be a captain here or at Rivercliff until I
receive a stipend, and that’s another ten years.”
“You
want to be a majer like Weslyn? Or Dysar?”
“I
could do as well as Dysar did. Anyone could have. He was the kind that makes
sour peaches taste good,” Feran pointed out.
“The
Council liked him.”
“Of
course they did. He didn’t want to spend coins on weapons or training or
replacement mounts. He arranged for
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