Drusyn frowns.
“Casseon sent more than forty companies against Verdheln, and there are usually close to a score of raids by Heldyans every year. Khesyn claims they’re raiders over whom he has no control, but we’ve captured arms that look like the same kind of blades used by his armsmen.” Lerial takes another bite of egg toast and then a ham strip, not quite as crisp as he would have preferred.
“Don’t hear much about that,” admits Ascaar. “And the bastard claims to follow the God of the Balance.”
“There’s no way we would, I imagine,” comments Drusyn. “And when did any ruler really follow faith if it wasn’t in his interest?”
Ascaar snorts.
“Just as there’s no way we’d hear about Khesyn building up armsmen in Estheld,” returns Lerial, before eating the last of the barely warm egg toast.
Drusyn rises. “Need to be off.”
Lerial nods. “Best of fortune.”
“Appreciate it.” Drusyn does not look back.
Lerial finishes the egg toast and the ham strips, then swallows more lager. He and Ascaar get up almost together, but the older officer just gives a quick smile and nods before he turns and heads for the door.
After slipping one of the small loaves left in the dining room into his riding jacket, Lerial also departs, hurrying back to his quarters, where he recovers his sabre and visor cap, then makes his way down to the main level and out the doors into a dimness barely lightened by faint glow on the eastern horizon. His gelding is saddled and tied to the railing outside. It is cool enough that when the gelding snorts, Lerial can make out his breath. He mounts quickly and turns the gelding south. As he rides toward his companies, he tries to sense any Heldyan forces beyond the walls of Lubana, but can find none within the range of his abilities.
He has no more than reined up and dismounted at the Cigoernean tents than Fheldar, Strauxyn, and Kusyl hurry toward him.
“Ser … there’s word…” begins Fheldar.
“That the Heldyans may be attacking. They’re loading flatboats with troopers. The Afritan Guards are being positioned to the south of the hunting park and closer to Luba. We’re being held back to see where else they may attack. The Afritans are sending rations. Have they arrived?”
“Not yet, ser.”
“We’re likely last because everyone else will be moving out before us. Have your men eat as soon as the rations arrive. Fheldar … we’ll send Vominen and Gherst out through the south gate. Have them take positions just south of the southeast corner tower of Lubana. That way, they can survey the river and the riverbank—and marshes—to the south, as well as the eastern wall of Lubana itself.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Do you know where we’ll be fighting?” asks Kusyl.
“No.” Lerial pauses. “Just an idea. We may not be going all that far.”
“Ser?”
“We’ll have to see. Just make sure everyone gets fed … and quickly.”
Less than a third of a glass later, the rankers are all eating bread, cold mutton slices, and cheese, washing it down with watered ale. Lerial is using his order-senses to scan the river, but can only discover a half score of flatboats barely leaving the piers at Vyada, although he has the feeling that more will be pushing off before long.
Another half glass passes, and the cloudless eastern sky has turned to greenish gray before the first group of flatboats nears the western shore of the river a good kay south of Lubana, where Drusyn’s forces are already marshaled and waiting. A second, and larger, group of boats has departed the piers and looks to be headed farther downstream. Lerial cannot tell exactly where that might be, but it is clear they are not reinforcing the boats beginning to ground on the shore south of the hunting park because they are almost even with those boats and remain in midriver.
“Ser…?” prompts Kusyl.
“There’s another group of boats headed downstream. I can’t tell where.” Lerial pauses. “I’m going to join the scouts.”