Handsome? When she thinks you have unruly hair? “Have you heard from Ascaar?”
“We finally received a dispatch this morning.” Rhamuel smiles. “He managed to defeat three Heldyan battalions. Most were Tourlegyn warriors. About half a battalion managed to escape downstream on the flatboats they used. He did lose more than a full company in deaths and casualties.” The smile vanishes. “He sent this dispatch with three rankers on one of Fhastal’s river galleys, because it appeared that his first dispatch might not have arrived in Swartheld. That was because, a day after the battle, a certain Captain Jontarl had vanished, leaving behind certain indications suggesting that.”
“What do you know about Jontarl?”
“Other than he is a nephew of Merchanter Jhosef … not a great deal.”
“Isn’t Oestyn related to Jhosef?” asks Lerial.
“His youngest son, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”
“I thought I recalled something like that,” replies Lerial blandly. “Remember, all these families and names are new to me.” Not that this one was, but questions make better points sometimes, even rhetorical questions.
“I doubt you forget much. Your point is taken, however.”
“Unfortunately, there’s much to it,” adds Sammyl, scowling. “But since he’s merely a nephew, and no proof that Jhosef was involved, there’s little we can do.”
“Not directly,” murmurs Rhamuel. “Not at the moment.”
The quiet iron in the arms-commander’s voice reminds Lerial that displeasing Rhamuel, crippled as he may turn out to be, is most unwise.
Rhamuel smiles, an expression similar to Kyedra’s, and the room is suddenly less oppressive. “Ascaar also indicated that he had sent on your message…”
Lerial notes the briefly puzzled look on Sammyl’s face, but does not intend to explain. “… and enclosed a dispatch to you. It originally went to Luba, and Majer Chorazt forwarded it to Ascaar at Shaelt. In turn…” Rhamuel extends the still-sealed missive to Lerial.
Lerial takes it and studies the outside, which merely bears his name and rank, with the words “Mirror Lancers of Cigoerne” beneath. Then he takes his belt knife, the one that had burned him—and shows no signs of it—and slits the envelope. He immediately checks the signature and seal: both of Major Jhalet.
Why from Majer Jhalet? Why not from Father? Because he doesn’t want anyone to know you’re related if the dispatch should fall into the wrong hands? Lerial nods and—and then begins to read.
Overcaptain Lerial—
We have heard from the wounded you dispatched back to Cigoerne, as well as from a number of traders, that you and the Afritan Guard were successful in repulsing the Heldyan attack on Luba. We also understand that you have been requested to attend the duke of Afrit to receive his thanks, and trust that, once you have accomplished whatever is necessary, you and your companies will be returning to Cigoerne as soon as practicable.
It has also come to the duke’s attention, and to that of Overcaptain Lephi, that there has not been a single Heldyan incursion or attack along the entire river bordering Heldya for the past three eightdays. This is so unprecedented that the duke requested that I so inform you.
We trust that this information will prove useful. The duke and the Mirror Lancers look forward to your speedy return.
After a moment, Lerial hands the dispatch to Rhamuel. “You should read this.”
Rhamuel does. “Would you mind if Sammyl…?”
“Not at all.”
The commander reads the dispatch and then returns it to Lerial. “Khesyn must have pulled every Heldyan armsman from everywhere.”
“It looks that way,” admits Rhamuel.
“What have your scouts discovered?” asks Lerial.
“Two more merchanters have ported at Estheld. None have left. There may be more happening than that, but our sailing galley had to withdraw when the Heldyans sent out three of their sail-galleys armed with archers.”
“Were the merchanters preparing to sail?”
“It didn’t appear that way. Not then.”
“That reminds me,” Lerial says. “I mentioned the merchanters to Aenslem, and that you’d garrisoned the tileworks. He pointed out that the Heldyans could easily land at Baiet and march to Swartheld.”
“They could,” admits Rhamuel.
“It’d take two or three days,” replies Sammyl.
“But we don’t have enough battalions left to garrison Baiet,” says Rhamuel, “not and leave enough to defend Swartheld—and it would take us two days to get them there even if we did. Besides, there’s nowhere else that they could go besides here. We’re better off fighting closer to Swartheld.”
Except that means more deaths and even possible defeat if Khesyn can raise another force as large as the first. “Can you keep a close watch on the ships?”