Madness in Solidar (19 page)

“You're in better shape than your escorts,” murmured Demykalon.

“We're working on that,” replied Alastar in an equally muted voice.

“This way.” Demykalon walked along the stone pavement cut into the hillside for another hundred yards, then down three steps and through an archway into a stone-walled chamber.

Captain Weirt remained just outside the archway.

The chamber was small, no more than four yards in length, three in width, and slightly more than two from the stone floor to the heavy roof timbers. There were no windows, just a series of slits at eye height in the west wall. The slits were roughly three digits high and a third of a yard in length.

“Take one of the viewing ports, Maitre, and tell me what you see at the base of the hill.”

Alastar took one of the slits near the middle. At first glance, he saw that the ground to the west of the ridge was lower than he had realized, at least twenty yards down from where he stood. He took a moment before finding what he initially thought was a two-wheeled cart, then realized that he was seeing a cannon, but one with a far smaller barrel and bore than the antique bombards that still graced the harbor at Westisle. “Is that a new type of cannon?”

“It is. It's much more accurate, and the rate of fire is faster. We've developed a coarser powder that burns more evenly.” Demykalon smiled. “I thought you'd like to see one in action. We're in the process of ranging and testing them. That's why we'll be watching from the redoubt here. That's also why the gunner has a pit and a stone wall there. You can see some sections of stone walls to the west. They're about two-thirds of a mille from here. The proving ground extends almost two milles, but the cannon are less accurate at ranges over a mille. You'll also notice an earthen berm a hundred yards east of the wall sections. It's high enough that the gunners cannot actually see their targets.” The marshal turned toward the archway. “Captain, give them the signal to begin.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar watched as one of the gunners took a device, consisting of iron forged into a right angle with another strip of iron, essentially a quarter of a circle, running from a point halfway along the top section of iron to a point roughly halfway down the vertical strip of iron. A plumb bob hung from the upper iron strip. It took Alastar a moment to realize that the device was a gun quadrant, used to determine the elevation of the cannon needed to aim at a particular distance. He also noticed that the gun crew had a choice of bags of powder of various sizes.

The gunner lit the fuse, then ducked behind the wall and knelt with the rest of the gun crew in the brick-walled pit. The first shot was long and high. The gunner looked to the northwest. A spotter used two flags to signal. After several adjustments, the gun crew retreated, and the gunner lit the cannon off. The cannon shell clipped off the top of a section of wall.

The process continued for almost a glass, with the gunner and gun crew aiming at various targets that they could not see, getting signals, and then adjusting the cannon. It seldom took more than three tries to hit the unseen target, success being confirmed by flag signals.

“Have them take a break,” Demykalon called to Weirt, who had moved just inside the archway while the cannon fired. “You can see that these new guns are smaller and lighter, but they fire almost as far, and they can be moved into position quickly. They're all cast alike, so that the range tables are similar for each. That means we can be effective with indirect fire with only a few adjustments, especially if we can measure distances in advance.”

“Indirect fire?” That was a term Alastar had not heard, although he suspected that was when the gunner could not aim point-blank and had to fire at an unseen target.

“Direct fire is when you aim the cannon directly at something you can see. Indirect fire is where you want to fire over something and have your shell strike where you want it, such as over a hill, or a wall. Perhaps over a river and trees or walls beyond. These cannon are very good at that. If we used Antiagon Fire … well … the effect would be terrible.”

“Antiagon Fire?” The ancient flame weapon required an imager to make, and one with the skills of a maitre? “There's no record of a request for an imager.”

“Explosive shells are almost as good, and far less dangerous to store and handle,” replied Demykalon. “We do have a description of the way to create it, though. One of the early marshals thought it might be useful at some time.”

Alastar couldn't imagine using shells filled with Antiagon Fire. The fact that Demykalon even mentioned the impact …
Except it was a way to get across the effectiveness of explosive shells.
“From your description and the accuracy shown here, I can see that you could concentrate fire on the weakest point, even if you cannot see it. Most impressive.”

“They also allow one to inflict fire at one's enemies accurately at over a mille, and from directions it would be hard to determine in a short period of time.” Before Alastar could say more, Demykalon went on. “You've seen the new cannon. I don't wish to take that much more of your day. We can talk on the ride back.” He smiled and walked toward the archway.

Alastar followed, with Coermyd and Belsior behind him.

“Once we're clear,” Demykalon told Weirt, “they can resume testing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Demykalon did not say more until he and Alastar were mounted and leading the way back toward headquarters. “What do you think of the cannon?”

“I have the impression that you have manufactured more than the one you were testing, and that the test was largely for my benefit.”

“Of course.”

“It's obviously an improved weapon, but since there are no other armies in Solidar, why have you manufactured so many? It would appear to me that a naval version would be far more useful, particularly given the rise in piracy in or near the Southern Gulf.”

“We do have such a version. At present, we have no vessels designed to use such cannon, but Sea Marshal Wilkorn is hopeful we will soon be able to build warships capable of using it.”

“What use might you foresee for these guns?”

Demykalon shrugged. “One can never tell. If a High Holder refuses to do his duty or anyone else who owes allegiance to the rex … the cannon would be useful and spare troopers.”

“With a great deal more than a thousand High Holders, I doubt you have enough cannon to keep them all in line.”

“That may be, but we have enough for more than a few … and who would wish to be the first to stand against them?”

Alastar laughed. “You make a very good point. That is often what keeps the peace. At least, previous Maitres have thought so.”

“The advantage that an army has, though, Maitre, is that its numbers preclude excessive concerns about those that might be called hostages to fortune.”

Alastar understood exactly what Demykalon meant, and while he had a counter, it was best not to offer it. “Very true.”

After they had ridden another fifty yards or so, Alastar said, “I understand that Rex Ryen believes that higher tariffs may be necessary if he is to have the funds to construct the ships necessary to deal with the pirates in the Southern Gulf.”

“You had mentioned them before. Sea Marshal Wilkorn has hopes for additional warships, and the new cannon would be very effective against both Jariolan and Ferran warships. And pirates, also.” The last three words were clearly an afterthought.

“But?”

“To raise tariffs might cause great unrest among the High Holders.”

“It might, but continued piracy would increase the unrest among the factors.”

“I am certain the rex will consider all matters, as will you if he asks your advice.”

“How many of your commanders come from High Holder backgrounds? Perhaps half?”

Alastar could see Demykalon stiffen, if almost imperceptibly.

“All senior officers are trained to act for the good of Solidar, Maitre.”

“I see.”

“I'm certain that you do.” Demykalon smiled. “Do you not think that our new cannon is a most impressive weapon?”

“Your demonstration and explanations have provided a most … commanding impression.”

“I thought they might.”

After those words, the words exchanged on the remainder of the ride back to the marshal's headquarters consisted entirely of cheerful pleasantries.

“What did you think about the marshal and his cannon?” Alastar asked the two younger imagers once they were on the road south from the headquarters toward L'Excelsis.

“He wanted you to see it,” said Belsior.

“I wasn't that taken with him, sir,” said Coermyd, “begging your pardon. It was like he was almost saying … well…”

Alastar nodded. “I'd appreciate it if you would not say much, except that you saw the testing of a new cannon that is more accurate and you had a chance to see Marshal Demykalon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We'll be taking the long way back to the Collegium, from the ring road to a point as close to the Bridge of Desires as we can manage. I need to survey the roads and ways there. The rex is considering a shorter route between the Collegium and the ring road around the chateau. We'll likely have to image it into being.”

“Sir…?”

“I know. There hasn't been much imaging like that since the time of the first Maitre, but Rex Ryen feels that there should be.”
And so do you, if for other reasons, but not in the fashion Ryen would have it done—except …
Except Alastar did not yet have more than a sketchy idea of how to deal with building the avenue without turning even more of Solidar—or L'Excelsis—against the Collegium and its imagers.

As it was, before the end of the day on Vendrei, if barely, after he had left Elthyrd, Alastar had sent out notes to Cyran, Petros, and several other Maitres D'Aspect, summoning them to duty on Lundi for the initial phase of a “project commanded by the rex.” Most might guess what that was, but there was no help for that. He put that out of mind and concentrated on observing his surroundings, since he still knew so little, comparatively, about L'Excelsis.

Once they reached the ring road, Alastar unfastened the rolled map from behind his saddle and studied it. “Starting at the lane of the apothecaries, just opposite the east drive to the chateau.” He looked to Coermyd. “Have you heard of the lane of the apothecaries?”

“No, sir.”

The lane of the apothecaries turned out to be more of an alley than a lane, whose paving was as much clay as brick. Alastar thought that many of the shops would have to be removed, and even parts of the adjoining ones. That would require imaging some sort of brick wall where they cut through a shop—if that was even possible—or removing the entire building.

Although Alastar hurried as much as he could, when the three returned to the Collegium it was close to fourth glass, and Alastar was feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of the project Ryen had demanded. That did not include the potential problem with the Anomen D'Rex, which was less than a block south of the proposed route of the avenue. Alastar worried that, when Ryen saw that, even if he did not happen to attend services that regularly, at least according to what Iskhar had indicated when Alastar had first arrived, the rex might want more changes to the avenue, and that would mean more disruption to the nearby inhabitants. Alastar also clearly needed to talk to Petros, and that meant he'd have to interrupt the junior master's Solayi or wait until early Lundi morning, since Petros had already left his post at the stables.

After unsaddling and grooming the gelding, Alastar made his way to his study in the otherwise deserted administration building, where he took out the first volume of Chorister Gauswn's journals and continued to leaf through it, looking for references to Quaeryt, or anything else of interest that caught his eye. For a while, he just didn't want to deal with the problems of the rex … or even smaller ones, like what Desyrk wasn't saying and why Obsolym was so opposed to changing anything.

He leafed through another twenty pages, and while Quaeryt was referenced often, either by name, or by his title, the mentions were matter-of-fact, describing plans for a new building, a change in training or studies, a disciplinary hearing for an unruly junior imager, nothing that was out of the ordinary, nothing that shed any new light on the first Maitre. Then a single sentence leapt out at Alastar.

… while not a word has been said in the years since, I cannot forget what the Khellan Eleni told me, that the Lady Vaelora is more than an imager, more than either Eherelani or Eleni, for all her farsight, and that her judgments are always sound …

Eherelani? Eleni?
Alastar had never heard either term. Nor had he heard that Vaelora was actually an imager … or more than an imager. He had heard of Pharsi farsight, more common in women, but, again, nothing about Vaelora having that talent. He wanted to keep turning the pages, but knowing he couldn't, he marked his place in the first volume and rose from the desk, stretching.

“You can't devote too much time to that, not now.” Saying the words out loud didn't assuage his curiosity, but it was time for dinner, not that he was looking forward to what was likely to be some form of leftovers, given that it was Samedi evening, and if he didn't hurry, he'd be late, an example he didn't want to set.

When Alastar reached the dining hall, he was still worrying about the avenue project as well as the question of repairing more sewers—something Ryen would scarcely like—not to mention pondering over the additional snippets of information he had gleaned from Chorister Gauswn's notes and about the encounter with Demykalon … and the mention of Antiagon Fire.

The dark-eyed and petite Alyna was already seated at the masters' table, alone, her face pleasantly composed as she surveyed the student imagers, always a sparse group on Samedi evenings, since those with coins tended to frequent caf
é
s or bistros on the one free end-day evening that they had.