hidden.”
“What do the scouts say?”
“They’ve circled the town. They can’t find any sign of any other forces.”
“There have to be other tricks that they have in mind,” offered Quaeryt.
“My thought as well. They want us to attack. There’s straw all across the ground, and most likely pits with stakes concealed there.” Skarpa smiled ironically. “Or they want us to think that there are.”
“What if we don’t attack? What if we stand off and shoot arrows into them?”
“We’ve only got one squad of archers,” said Skarpa. “Almost all of Bhayar’s archers are on the other side of the river. Can you and the imagers do something?”
Quaeryt studied the berms and the pikes embedded in them. There was nothing there that could burn, and he really didn’t want to fire the buildings behind the defenders. “We could probably kill a few at a distance, but not enough to make a difference.”
“Could you do anything to make them less able to fight?”
Quaeryt frowned. He’d put oil under the boots of slam-thieves, imaged bread into mouths and throats, and used imaging in a variety of lethal ways, but except for the ice rain, most of his imaging had dealt with only a single person at once, or at most a few.
In the momentary silence, from behind him, someone sneezed—loudly.
Sneezing … of course … if we can do it. He concentrated, trying to image pepper flakes on the back of his hand that held the reins.
The fine black pepper appeared in a small circle.
Then he turned to Skarpa. “We might be able to do something.” He turned in the saddle. “Shaelyt, how long can you deflect arrows?”
“For a time, sir.”
“Threkhyl … you’re one of the stronger imagers. How far away could you image something that doesn’t weigh too much, say … a chunk of wood the size of a dagger?”
“A hundred yards, maybe two.”
“All right … now can you image pepper, just a small amount … ground fine, into your hand?”
A puzzled expression crossed Threkhyl’s face.
Shaelyt tried to hide a grin.
“Go ahead. I need to see if you can.”
“Ah … I might be better with the red peppercorns.”
“You might, but I want the kind that cause people to sneeze.”
“I could do both.” Threkhyl frowned.
A cloud of fine red and black flakes appeared above Threkhyl’s hand.
“Good,” said Quaeryt. “Now, get rid of it, gently.”
Threkhyl wiped his hand on his trousers, and even though most of the pepper was well below his face, he sneezed several times, once violently. “What…?”
“We’re going to move forward, slowly, until we’re close enough to image a cloud of pepper dust over the Bovarians.”
“Why not just charge them?” demanded Threkhyl.
“Because we’re still a long ways from Variana, and Commander Skarpa and I would like to arrive to fight the important battles with as many of our troopers as possible. Besides, most of the men in that group are locals, graybeards, and youths.” Quaeryt was guessing about the graybeards, but he’d seen the locals and youths. “If we charge them directly, most of them will die, and we’ll still lose men, and the Bovarians won’t lose any of their seasoned troopers.”
Skarpa cleared his throat, then said quietly, “You’ll still need troopers. They’ll attack you and the imagers immediately if you ride up alone.”
“I know,” replied Quaeryt in a low voice, then raised it. “Major Zhelan, Undercaptain Ghaelyn, forward!”
Both Zhelan and Ghaelyn rode up beside Quaeryt as if they’d been expecting the command, and they probably had, Quaeryt thought.
“Sir?” asked Zhelan.
“I need first company to escort the imager undercaptains up that slope. We’re planning a surprise, and if it works, there may not be much fighting. If it doesn’t, Major, you’ll have to charge the locals. I think there are staked pits across the slope, but if first company and the imagers can advance slowly, we may be able to see and
“What do the scouts say?”
“They’ve circled the town. They can’t find any sign of any other forces.”
“There have to be other tricks that they have in mind,” offered Quaeryt.
“My thought as well. They want us to attack. There’s straw all across the ground, and most likely pits with stakes concealed there.” Skarpa smiled ironically. “Or they want us to think that there are.”
“What if we don’t attack? What if we stand off and shoot arrows into them?”
“We’ve only got one squad of archers,” said Skarpa. “Almost all of Bhayar’s archers are on the other side of the river. Can you and the imagers do something?”
Quaeryt studied the berms and the pikes embedded in them. There was nothing there that could burn, and he really didn’t want to fire the buildings behind the defenders. “We could probably kill a few at a distance, but not enough to make a difference.”
“Could you do anything to make them less able to fight?”
Quaeryt frowned. He’d put oil under the boots of slam-thieves, imaged bread into mouths and throats, and used imaging in a variety of lethal ways, but except for the ice rain, most of his imaging had dealt with only a single person at once, or at most a few.
In the momentary silence, from behind him, someone sneezed—loudly.
Sneezing … of course … if we can do it. He concentrated, trying to image pepper flakes on the back of his hand that held the reins.
The fine black pepper appeared in a small circle.
Then he turned to Skarpa. “We might be able to do something.” He turned in the saddle. “Shaelyt, how long can you deflect arrows?”
“For a time, sir.”
“Threkhyl … you’re one of the stronger imagers. How far away could you image something that doesn’t weigh too much, say … a chunk of wood the size of a dagger?”
“A hundred yards, maybe two.”
“All right … now can you image pepper, just a small amount … ground fine, into your hand?”
A puzzled expression crossed Threkhyl’s face.
Shaelyt tried to hide a grin.
“Go ahead. I need to see if you can.”
“Ah … I might be better with the red peppercorns.”
“You might, but I want the kind that cause people to sneeze.”
“I could do both.” Threkhyl frowned.
A cloud of fine red and black flakes appeared above Threkhyl’s hand.
“Good,” said Quaeryt. “Now, get rid of it, gently.”
Threkhyl wiped his hand on his trousers, and even though most of the pepper was well below his face, he sneezed several times, once violently. “What…?”
“We’re going to move forward, slowly, until we’re close enough to image a cloud of pepper dust over the Bovarians.”
“Why not just charge them?” demanded Threkhyl.
“Because we’re still a long ways from Variana, and Commander Skarpa and I would like to arrive to fight the important battles with as many of our troopers as possible. Besides, most of the men in that group are locals, graybeards, and youths.” Quaeryt was guessing about the graybeards, but he’d seen the locals and youths. “If we charge them directly, most of them will die, and we’ll still lose men, and the Bovarians won’t lose any of their seasoned troopers.”
Skarpa cleared his throat, then said quietly, “You’ll still need troopers. They’ll attack you and the imagers immediately if you ride up alone.”
“I know,” replied Quaeryt in a low voice, then raised it. “Major Zhelan, Undercaptain Ghaelyn, forward!”
Both Zhelan and Ghaelyn rode up beside Quaeryt as if they’d been expecting the command, and they probably had, Quaeryt thought.
“Sir?” asked Zhelan.
“I need first company to escort the imager undercaptains up that slope. We’re planning a surprise, and if it works, there may not be much fighting. If it doesn’t, Major, you’ll have to charge the locals. I think there are staked pits across the slope, but if first company and the imagers can advance slowly, we may be able to see and
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