Septi morning found Mykel back behind the small writing desk. Iron Stem was quiet, according to the reports from all the patrols, although there were still fires in parts of the ironworks, and probably would be for days. One of Rhystan’s scouts reported that the Reillies were still gathered south of Wesrigg, but that there were signs that they might move out before long, and some of those signs were weapons being cleaned.
Mykel looked at the map spread before him. From where the Reillies were situated, they could take one of two easily traveled routes, the farm road to Borlan, or the high road to Iron Stem. If they took the Borlan road, Third Battalion could take the high road south, and then the cutoff through Sudon to the ridges overlooking the farm road. The valley there was narrow, and if Fourth Battalion sealed the road to the north…
All that was theoretical, unless the Reillies did decide to attack, rather than disband and head into the hills to their homes for the winter.
Finally, one-handed and slowly, he refolded the map. What he ordered the battalions to do would depend on what the Reillies did. If he were more calculating—like an alector—he would have just attacked the Reillie encampment, with all the women and children. Tempting as that was, he felt that he had to let them make the first move. After that…he shook his head.
He took out the unsigned letter from Rachyla and laid it on the wood, reading the few lines carefully once again, although he already knew every word. Should he reply?
There was no question about that. The real question was how to frame the reply in a fashion that only Rachyla would understand fully, since Mykel could hardly count on his missive reaching her unread.
In the end, writing his response was physically laborious and required using his left hand. More than a glass passed before he finished. Then he read it over, slowly and carefully.
Lady Rachyla,
It has come to my attention that rumors may have circulated as to my recent injuries. I would have written sooner to assure you and the most honorable Amaryk that Third Battalion remains in good order and strength despite a number of strange occurrences in Iron Stem, which include a flood and an earthquake. These resulted in severe damage to the ironworks, and with the existing damage to the piers at Dekhron, that may well affect the price and availability of worked iron for some time, as well as other metals, and for coal as well. These facts might be of interest to you and your family, since they are matters of substance and affect power.
I would also convey my best wishes to the most worthy Amaryk and to your aunt, with my hopes that all of you are well, and that you may all realize your own deepest hopes in these troubling times.
I also must apologize for the penmanship of this letter, but because of the nature of the injuries to my arm, it will be some time before grace returns to the form of my correspondence, but I have been assured that it will, as surely as both edges of a good and ancient dagger can cut sharply, yet serve high purposes for both factors and their families.
He would have liked to have said more, but he had to assume that anything he sent would be read. He hoped that the reference to the ironworks and trade would at least partly mollify Amaryk and Elbaryk, if either did indeed even see the missive.
He addressed it to the Chatelaine Rachyla, in care of Amaryk, Factor for the Seltyr Elbaryk in Tempre. Later in the day, he would ride into town and take care of getting it sent.
“Sir?” One of the Fourth Battalion rankers stood in his doorway. “One of the outholders to see you.”
“Have him come in, if he will.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shortly, the tall and muscled outholder walked into the study.
Out of courtesy, Mykel stood. “Outholder.”
Croyalt looked at Mykel, taking in the arm still bound in the sling. “So it’s true, is it? You took on a Reillie sniper squad and the warleader and took them all down, and killed him after you took a crossbow bolt?”
“I didn’t get all the snipers,” Mykel replied.
Croyalt laughed, a booming sound that filled the small study. Then he asked, “How many?”
“Five snipers.”
“Most Cadmians don’t get one in a career. No wonder they…” He shook his head.
Mykel wondered what the outholder had been about to say.
Croyalt looked squarely at Mykel once more. “I have to congratulate you, if reluctantly. I am told that you deployed your entire force immediately after the flood and earthquake to keep order, and that your men took care of looters and other thieves in the only way that they should be handled.”
“Keeping order is one of our assigned duties, Outholder Croyalt.”
“So I’ve been told, but you’re the first from headquarters who seems to understand that.”
Mykel waited. He had the feeling that was not why the outholder had come to see him.
“I also thought you should know that both the Reillies and the Squawts have declared you a blood enemy of their peoples. They will begin their efforts against you and your forces on Decdi.”
Mykel smiled. “I’m sorry for them, then.”
“Sorry for them? They must number four times your force.”
“All that means is that four times as many will die, and there’s no need for it.”
“Majer…maybe not for you, there’s no need for it, but for them, they live for fighting. You and the alectors want to turn them into upland farmers or growers, or foresters or whatever. They do those things to support themselves until it’s time to go into battle.”
“Most of them don’t make good Cadmians. We’ve tried.”
“Of course they don’t,” snorted Croyalt. “They’re not soldiers. They’re warriors.”
What could Mykel say to that? The world didn’t need warriors. Even as he was beginning to understand the need for soldiers, he saw no need for the kinds of people Croyalt called warriors. What was the point of fighting for the sake of fighting, whatever the rationale?
“They fight for honor, and to prove their bravery,” Croyalt added.
“I hear what you say, Outholder, and I do appreciate your explanation. But I think it’s a poor excuse for a man who has to prove bravery by killing anything, whether it be an animal or another man. We may have to slaughter animals to eat, and I may have to kill Reillies and insurgents and sandwolves to keep order and protect those who cannot protect themselves, but I see no honor in the act of killing anything, even if it is necessary.”
Croyalt opened his mouth, then closed it.
Mykel waited for a moment, then added, “I do thank you for coming, and for the information about the Reillies and the Squawts. I don’t mean to offend you, and I trust you will take my words as a statement of what I believe and not as an attack upon you.”
The outholder nodded slowly. “You just might be right in pitying the Squawts and Reillies.” He smiled, an expression that Mykel’s Talent interpreted as one embodying elements of sadness and chagrin. “I’ll be seeing you, Majer.”
“Until then, Outholder.”
Mykel did not settle back into his chair for several moments.