At close to the second glass of the afternoon, a ranker arrived to summon Quaeryt to meet with the governor. As he accompanied the ranker, Quaeryt suspected that he’d once more be asked to deliver a homily. He only wondered if, this time, Rescalyn would suggest a subject.
Rescalyn was waiting in the main room of the quarters attached to what might be called a coach or equipment house, seated at one end of a battered dining table, with two oil lamps on each side of the maps he studied. He gestured for Quaeryt to approach, but did not rise.
“Sir?” Quaeryt wasn’t about to ask why he’d been summoned.
“Tell me, scholar … why do you fight?” Rescalyn’s voice remained cheerfully hearty, as it seemed to be most of time, at least from what Quaeryt had heard every time he’d been around the governor.
“You assigned me to Sixth Battalion, sir. What else would you have me do when they’re fighting?”
“You were only required to observe.”
“It has appeared to me that an observer in a battle or skirmish faces all of the risks with none of the advantages of a combatant.”
“Do you not believe that to be true in life, as well, scholar?”
Quaeryt smiled carefully. “I suppose that would depend on whether one’s circumstances place them in a situation resembling a battle.”
“So it would. But is not most of life arranged in that fashion, if more concealed and obscured by custom, golds, and fashion?”
“Certainly, some philosophers have claimed that to be so.”
“What do you think?”
“I do not believe it is always so, but it is more so than most would care to admit.”
“That is a careful and scholarly reply, as befits a scholar.” Rescalyn smiled. “Neither life nor war are always either careful or scholarly … as I hope you have observed in your time with the regiment.”
“I have indeed, sir. Might I ask what you plan next?”
“You may ask. I’ll answer in general terms. We have crushed the four hill holders who declared rebellion. I have sent a courier under a parley flag to hill holder Zorlyn, with a message. That message offers a cease-fire to him and all remaining hill holders provided they swear immediate allegiance to Telaryn and its lord … and offer additional tariffs of two parts in ten. I wrote him that Telaryn is making the offer because he did not join the declared rebels. If he does not so swear, then he will suffer the fate of the deceased rebel holders … as will any holder who does not do so.”
“Do you expect him to do so?”
“What do you think, scholar?”
“I have my doubts, sir.”
“So do I, but, by making the offer, I appear reasonable.”
“You also show the High Holders that, if tariffs need to rise, you will back such increases with force.”
“That, too,” replied Rescalyn with a smile. “Oh … I expect another homily tonight … and would you convey to Undercaptain Gauswn that his services will also be required? You can use the large wintering barn.”
Quaeryt had expected that “request.” He only had been surprised that Rescalyn hadn’t begun with it. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s all, scholar.”
Quaeryt nodded and departed.
When he returned to the barn, Gauswn was waiting for him.
“Sir … are we-”
“Yes, the governor has requested that we conduct services tonight in the large wintering barn. It appears we’ll be here for several days. If you’ll excuse me for a few moments, I need to report to Major Skarpa.”
“He’s at the north end, sir.”
“Thank you.” Quaeryt walked to the far end of the barn.
Skarpa turned from the senior squad leader with whom he had been talking. “Scholar.”
“Major … I just returned from talking with the governor. He asked that Gauswn and I perform the services tonight-in the large wintering barn. He also said that he’d sent a message to Holder Zorlyn, suggesting the holders acknowledge the primacy of Telaryn and its lord. He is awaiting a reply.”
“I hadn’t heard that, but he has called for an all-officers’ meeting in a glass. We’ll be here for several days, then. At least two more. Thank you.”
“I thought you should know, if you didn’t already.”
“I appreciate it.”
Quaeryt headed back to find Gauswn and discuss the service. He also needed to find another “appropriate” topic for his homily.
A glass later, he was sitting on a post in the corner of the barn, below the hayloft, thinking … and murmuring ideas to himself.
“Youth and strength as Naming … no … Cyrethyn mentioned that. Who is better remembered-Caldor, Hengyst, or Rholan? No … that suggests that rulers aren’t to be trusted as much as followers of the Nameless … Rholan … the creation of a legend…”
He paused. What about the idea that creating a legend is a form of cultural Naming … that legends effectively destroy truth … and why is it that most great men so wish to be a legend in their own time?
Quaeryt smiled. He could do something with that idea … something that he could directly tie in to the acts and behaviors of the hill holders … while suggesting that form of Naming existed in great and powerful men of accomplishment everywhere … and that sometimes, only the intervention of the Nameless prevented even greater disasters. He wouldn’t mention that powerful men often claimed that the Nameless had made their excesses, which they regarded as triumphs, possible.
88
Quaeryt’s homily was well-received on Solayi night, and Rescalyn had seemed pleased, even with the words about the intervention of the Nameless to prevent complete disasters. Lundi morning was warmer. The wind had died down, and Quaeryt managed to wash the worst of the mud and blood off the one set of his trousers and tunics and hang them up in the barn, hoping that they would dry before the regiment moved on-whether against Zorlyn or back to Boralieu.
He did spend some time, when he retreated to a quiet corner of the loft, studying the quarrel he had retrieved days earlier, and practicing some different types of imaging, beginning with imaging shafts of straw into barn beams, so that they protruded. Even if someone had been watching, it would have been highly unlikely that they would have seen a straw seemingly appear stuck to the ancient wood, not in the middle of a hayloft.
After that, he checked the mare, thought, talked about matters with Meinyt, and fretted.
Just before supper on Lundi evening, Skarpa appeared in the barn holding Sixth Battalion. “The governor’s called an officers’ meeting.” His eyes went to Quaeryt. “That includes you, scholar.”
Quaeryt inclined his head.
“I don’t think it’s good,” added the major.
“I wouldn’t expect so. The hill holders have regarded themselves as beyond anyone’s law but their own for far too many years.”
“Why did he even send a message, then?”
“So that, after we’ve destroyed Zorlyn and a few more holders totally, he can make an offer again for those few remaining.”
“They could just abandon their holds and wait him out,” pointed out Skarpa.
“Do you really think so? You’ve told me how hard the winters are. Second, no one’s ever succeeded in carrying this kind of war to them before. They don’t really believe it can be done. They’ve been too isolated, and they’ve never dealt with someone who has the skill, determination, and the number of trained troops that the governor has. Even so, he’s just starting the destruction. He’s counting on the winter to largely finish it.”