“Well…” Lerial grins. “There is one. Exactly where are the ironworks? The city didn’t look much like there were any there.”
Ascaar smiles in return. “There aren’t. The ironworks are more than ten kays to the west, at the end of the west road.”
“The wide east-west road?” asks Lerial.
Ascaar nods. “They mine it and smelt it there, and pound it into rough plate. The plate comes here. Some is sent downriver to Swartheld. Most is smithed here.”
“I just wondered, because everyone talks about the ironworks at Luba.”
“There’s really not a town there. Most of the heavy work at the works is done by lawbreakers.”
That makes a certain sense to Lerial, since the irrigation ditches in Cigoerne are dredged by lawbreakers and new canals dug in the same fashion.
As Valatyr rises and leaves the dining room, Ascaar glances in his direction, then back to Lerial. “It won’t be that long until the morning meeting, not if you want a quick word with your company officers. Commander Sammyl is prompt.”
“I told them not to expect me this morning until after the senior officers’ meeting. That won’t be a problem, not with the horses needing rest. They know where to find me.”
“They always do,” comments Drusyn, “especially when you’d prefer not to be found.”
Ascaar nods.
Before long, the three make their way to the salon.
The chairs and settees have been rearranged into three rows, facing away from the doorway. Lerial settles himself at the left end of the second row in a simple armless chair with a seat upholstered in slightly faded dull crimson, beside Subcommander Klassyn. “Good morning, Commander.”
“Good morning, Lord Lerial. I trust all is well with you and your men.”
“Everything seems to be settled. I imagine you have your hands full, though.”
“Full, but not overfull. That will happen when another two battalions arrive.”
“Are they expected soon?”
“They’re not expected at all, but I keep working to see what I can do if they show up. If I don’t, they’ll arrive tomorrow.” Klassyn glances toward the north end of the salon, where the chief of staff appears.
All the officers stand.
“As you were.” As Lerial and the others reseat themselves, Commander Sammyl takes a position facing the seated senior officers and clears his throat. “Good morning. There’s nothing new to report on the Heldyan forces. There are no indications of more forces arriving in Vyada.” He glances toward Klassyn, who shakes his head, and then toward Valatyr, who does the same. “Then I’ll go over the day’s evolutions. Overcaptain Lerial, if it is agreeable to you, I thought that Subcommander Valatyr might accompany you and one of our squads and give you a thorough orientation of this side of the river—before you have to join us in fighting here.”
“I’d very much appreciate that, ser.”
“Good.”
“Now … Subcommander Ascaar … you have the river patrols south of Lubana.”
“Yes, ser.”
“What do you have to report?”
“No change, ser. Riders in uniform on the east shore, but never more than a squad at a time. Three more large flatboats passed our patrols. They were empty and stayed close to the other shore. They tied up with the others at the new piers south of Vyada.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, ser.”
“Subcommander Drusyn?”
“It’s much the same on the east shore north of Vyada. Squad-sized patrols and sometimes lone riders. There haven’t been any flatboats going downstream. Late yesterday afternoon, there was a sail-galley that arrived from the north and docked at the new piers. It had the banner of Duke Khesyn. There weren’t any armsmen to greet the galley. That usually means that there was a message from the duke.”
“Suggesting that he is still in Estheld, you think?”
“He’s either there, ser, or wants us to think he is. I couldn’t say which from what my scouts saw.”
“Is there anything else? No? Good. Dismissed to duties.”
Everyone stands once more, while the commander leaves the salon.
Then, as most of the other officers follow, Commander Valatyr walks over to Lerial.
“Thank you for your comments earlier this morning.”
“You know why I made them, I trust?” Valatyr’s smile is somehow both wintry and wry, matching a countenance that seems stern when he is not smiling.
“I’d judge so. In the interests of harmony.”
Valatyr nods. “Quite so. Would you prefer to see the river area south of Lubana first or the area north first? We’ll provide a mount so that yours can rest.”
Although Lerial has brought some spare mounts, he merely nods. “Thank you. I’d prefer to see the area where we’d be most likely to fight, possibly downstream of Khesyn’s new piers, but since I don’t know the location of those piers…” He offers an apologetic shrug.
“The piers are about a kay south of Lubana, on the south side of a wide bend in the river. With the current, they could land on our side less than half a kay south of here.”
“At the edge of the hunting park?”