Imager’s Battalion

23

Quaeryt knew that he needed to visit the High Holders in the area, but after working with the imager undercaptains on Lundi afternoon, it was far too late to set out. Instead, he arranged for fourth company to accompany him and the imagers on Mardi. Then he made inquiries of shopkeepers and others along the main street of Caernyn to find out more about the local holders, discovering that there was only one located close to the town itself, three milles west on the higher ground that he still thought might have once been an island in the River Aluse.

High Holder Haeryn owned and controlled the river docks below the town, situated at the south end of comparatively deep waters that amounted to a bay of sorts, sheltered by two points of higher ground that did not look entirely natural to Quaeryt, much as the locals assured him that the river harbor had not changed much in generations. Haeryn also owned the taproom and the two inns nearest to the river docks, as well as two large warehouses on the higher ground above the docks. Quaeryt suspected the High Holder owned far more than that, but more indirectly.

Although Quaeryt had planned to leave comparatively early on Mardi morning to visit Haeryn, at breakfast Skarpa asked Meinyt and Quaeryt to meet with him at eighth glass. Quaeryt made arrangements for fourth company to stand down until further notice, and then talked with each of the company commanders in turn while he was waiting to meet with Skarpa.

Both Meinyt and Quaeryt were at the near-empty public room of the River Inn a half quint before eighth glass. Skarpa arrived just after they did.

“I didn’t have a chance to read through the dispatch and orders from Marshal Deucalon. I’d received them just before breakfast.” Skarpa shook his head. “He sent ten pages of instructions and cautions.” Then he motioned to a circular table in the middle of the room. Once the three were seated, he continued. “They’re barely past a point opposite Roule. I don’t know what’s taking them so long, because they haven’t fought anything much. Just a few companies here and there, but they’ve been trying to stop crop-burning. That can take time, according to Deucalon, because he doesn’t have imagers.”

Quaeryt didn’t hide the wince.

“You disagree, Subcommander?”

“The troopers did more than the imagers to stop the burning we encountered. Imagers can’t do everything he thinks they can.”

“I don’t think I’ll mention that to the marshal. They’re also having problems getting supplies. Apparently, there aren’t that many large factors or High Holders near the river on the north side, and most of the factors already sold their stores to the Bovarian forces who attacked Ferravyl. That means we’re supposed to stay here until we get further word. We’re also to report our supply situation in the next few days.”

Skarpa turned to Quaeryt. “Didn’t you tell me your imagers can remove locks?”

“If the iron of the hasps isn’t too thick,” replied Quaeryt cautiously.

“Good. We’ve got all these warehouses along the river, and some of them might have supplies we can use. No one seems to know where the owners are.” Skarpa snorted. “I’d rather not break down the doors because then we can’t secure them. I’ll have a squad of quartermasters ready for you after we finish, and you and your imagers can open the warehouses.”

“I’d thought to visit the nearest High Holder, to see about supplies there as well.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got here in town first.”

Quaeryt nodded.

“Here are our instructions, and I’ve been told to read the first part word for word to you two.” Skarpa smiled. “It appears that Marshal Deucalon is aware that you both have creative ways of interpreting general orders.”

Meinyt did not roll his eyes, but he might as well have, given the brief expression that crossed his face.

Skarpa ignored it and cleared his throat. “‘The mission of this campaign is to bring Bovaria into a union with Telaryn. The mission is not to ravage, pillage, or otherwise destroy the lands, the buildings, or the people of these lands, except when and where they offer armed resistance. Force against those not wearing the uniforms of either Bovaria or Antiago should be used only as a last resort, and such use should be appropriate to the situation at hand…’”

Reading the remaining three pages of “instructions” took another quint, most of it wasted, Quaeryt thought, since the message was what he’d already told his officers and men.

After that, Quaeryt and the imager undercaptains followed the quartermaster squad to the warehouses. The two warehouses belonging to Haeryn were locked-and empty. So was the one belonging to the river factors’ guild. A smaller warehouse, belonging to a factor from Nordeau, held not quite a hundred barrels of flour, dried meats, and some dried fruit.

By the time Quaeryt and the imagers finished with the locks at the four warehouses on the river, it was close to two quints before the first glass of the afternoon. Another quint passed before Quaeryt rode out along the road west of Caernyn accompanied by Shaelyt, Akoryt, Baelthm … and Major Arion and fourth company.

“This High Holder … he will not be at his holding,” offered Arion in accented Bovarian.

“It’s likely he won’t be,” agreed Quaeryt.

“Then will you take what we need for supplies?”

“We will have to see,” replied Quaeryt. “It might be that there is nothing to purchase or take. I can’t imagine he has vast lands, or that they produce much.”

“The High Holders of Bovaria always have much.”

“True … but the battalion can’t eat golds or silvers.”

At the dryness of Quaeryt’s tone, Arion laughed.

Before that long, the battalion reined up short of the pair of stone pillars that marked the entrance to Haeryn’s holding. Each pillar supported an iron gate, chained shut in the middle. A stone wall, less than two yards high, ran some fifteen yards from each gate pillar, parallel to the road, ending just short of a hedgerow.

Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Akoryt, if you’d come forward and image away the hasp of that ugly lock…”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt thought he saw a flash of … something … in the undercaptain’s normally flat brown eyes, but he just watched as Akoryt eased his mount to a halt just short of the gates. After several moments, while the undercaptain concentrated, the body of the lock dropped away from the hasp.

“Are we to replace the lock once we leave, sir?”

“That would be best,” replied Quaeryt.

Akoryt dismounted and lifted the hasp clear of the chains, then unwound the chains and picked up the lower part of the lock. By the time he’d finished, two Khellan rankers had dismounted and began to open the gates.

“Forward!” ordered Quaeryt.

The outriders led the way along the white gravel drive running straight from the gates to the columned portico in the center of the white stone structure that dominated a low rise surrounded on all sides by lawns and gardens. When Quaeryt reached the portico, less than half a mille from the gates, he could see that every window was shuttered. Two decorative iron outer doors were locked across the entry to the hold house whose two wings each stretched some fifty yards from the center of the building, not quite a miniature palace, but far more than a mere mansion.

Quaeryt hadn’t seen any recent tracks on the drive, and the stone steps up to the covered portico were dusty and without any trace of footprints. While he suspected the outbuildings would be locked-and empty, based on what they had found in Caernyn, he turned the mare and led the company along the drive on the west side of the hold house. Every building was locked and shuttered, even the stable, and the two other dwellings on the property were also locked and shuttered.

The almost-eroded deep ruts outside the structure that looked to be a storehouse suggested that it had been emptied weeks earlier. Even so, Quaeryt had Baelthm sever the storehouse lock, but a search of the building revealed only a few barrels of odd provisions-pickles, and several spoiled-from the odor-barrels of dried fruit.

Investigation of the other buildings and the hold house confirmed that there were no supplies to be had anywhere on the holding.

While Shaelyt repaired the lock on the main door of the hold house, Quaeryt considered. The next nearest High Holder was Fauxyn, reputedly ten milles farther west along the river. Quaeryt thought about heading out directly from Haeryn’s holding, then shook his head. Fauxyn’s lands lay far enough away that he needed to discuss that with Skarpa, especially since he had no idea what the scouts might have discovered, and it would be close to dark, if not later, before they returned to Caernyn.

“We’ll head back to town,” he announced to Arion and the undercaptains.

Once they were on the road, after Akoryt repaired the lock on the main gate, Arion looked from his mount to Quaeryt. “You did not wish to inspect the main house with greater care? There might have been much of value there.”

“Lord Bhayar would prefer the allegiance of the High Holders, rather than their enmity,” replied Quaeryt. “Also, if you destroy all they have, you lose leverage. A holder who has much to lose is much more easily persuaded. Besides, we saw nothing of obvious great value. I imagine such items had already been removed.”

“You truly believe Lord Bhayar will prevail?” asked Arion.

“I don’t know that I could explain why,” said Quaeryt with a slight laugh, “but I feel that is the way in which it will end.”

“Will he be so generous with the High Holders in Khel … those who took our lands?”

How do you answer that? Quaeryt managed a wry smile. “We have not talked about that, but much of his family is Pharsi, and I would doubt that he would regard seizure of lands by Bovarians without cause as rightful ownership. I certainly would not.”

“You say ‘without cause’…”

“I’m trying to be careful. I’m quite certain that when Bhayar defeats Kharst, he will consider Kharst’s actions cause enough to take Kharst’s personal lands. There are times when seizure is necessary … but those of you who serve with us have a claim for restoration of your lands.” And Bhayar should honor it … Quaeryt wasn’t about to voice the last thought because Bhayar would do what he would do, although he was usually fair. But not always.

Arion laughed, a shade bitterly. “Claim? What about a right?”

“Right is always determined by power and who rules. For me to say anything is a right is meaningless because I do not have that power.”

“You have other powers. Will you back our claim?”

“As I can and based on what I see of you and your men.”

Arion nodded abruptly. “I can ask no more.” After a moment he said, “Do you know anything of your parents?”

“Beyond a few memories and a handful of words and phrases in Pharsi?” Quaeryt shook his head. “No one even thought I was Pharsi because of my hair. Not until I met a Pharsi woman in Bhoreal. She was the first to insist I was a lost one. I didn’t even know what that meant. I suppose that shows how truly lost I was.” Quaeryt made the statement just slightly ironic, hoping that Arion would pick up on it, wondering if Arion would, and if what he said was similar to what Shaelyt had revealed.

Arion smiled. “My grandmere told me about the lost ones, but there were none in Khel. It is said that they were forced to leave because of their pride, and that Erion requires even the highest of the lost ones to serve another in recompense…”

Quaeryt mostly listened to the major on the ride back to Caernyn.

Once the company had returned and the mounts were stabled, Quaeryt dismissed fourth company and Akoryt and Baelthm. He sent Shaelyt to find Voltyr.

While he waited outside the stable for the two to return, in his mind he went over the steps by which he had created his own shields. Will it work for them? He had no idea, but he needed to have them develop shields, because, in the bigger battles certain to come, he couldn’t protect them, and he would need to send at least the more able imagers out alone with other companies, perhaps even the other regiments.

He still worried about giving the ability to use shields to Threkhyl, but he’d decide on that after he taught Shaelyt and Voltyr to develop their own shields. If you can … and they can.

When the two returned, Quaeryt was standing by the stable door, still pondering the best approach.

“Sir? You wanted us?”

“I did.” Quaeryt glanced around the area, but there were troopers everywhere, if not especially close. “We’ll need to take a walk.”

The two exchanged glances.

“This way.” Quaeryt turned and headed for the street in front of the stable. He said nothing until they were well away from the main street and standing on a small bluff overlooking the river in an overgrown area between a tinsmith’s and a cooperage. There he turned, with his back to the river, and said, “You two need to learn another imaging skill.”

“Sir?” Voltyr’s forehead furrowed.

“You may have seen that not all blows meant for me struck or impacted me fully?”

Voltyr grinned and looked at Shaelyt, who stifled a grin, then nodded.

“Every imager may have to find his own means of doing this, but…” Quaeryt paused, “according to what I know, if you think of the air around us as if it were like a colorless cloud … and images tiny hooks holding a piece of it together like an invisible wall … well … it could form a barrier, depending on the imager. You’ll have to find out if you can do something like that, the results are more than worth the effort.”

“But … the air … it’s nothing,” said Voltyr.

“You might recall that the air turned cold enough to freeze eight regiments. How did that happen if the air is nothing? The wind blows. Sometimes it can push people over. If there’s nothing there, how can it do that?” He paused. “You might think about the air as being tiny bits of invisible smoke … but if you hook them together with imaging … they become stronger. If you can image links strong enough, they might stop or slow arrows or blades.”

Once more the two exchanged glances. This time the expressions were knowing.

Quaeryt waited.

“If … any imager,” began Shaelyt, “could do this, wouldn’t he be most powerful?”

“I think creating and holding such a shield takes much practice to learn how to do it, and much effort to hold it for long.” Quaeryt offered a wry smile. “Why don’t troopers carry big heavy shields anymore?”

“You’re saying they get too heavy.”

“Could any of you have done any more imaging at the end of the battle the other night?” asked Quaeryt.

“Maybe a little,” said Voltyr.

“Could you have if you’d been carrying a shield weighing a half stone for the entire battle? Do you think that holding an imaging shield is any less work?”

“The best troopers could, sir … I mean, carry shields and blades in the old days,” said Shaelyt.

“The very best could. You’re right. How many years of training did it take them? You’re both better imagers than you were when you were made undercaptains. How much have you improved, and how long has it taken? I’ve been training you and trying to get you to strengthen and improve your abilities the whole time.” Mostly, anyway.

“How do you know we can do this?” asked Voltyr.

“I don’t,” replied Quaeryt. “I do know it can be done. I also suspect that not all imagers can, but I thought you two were the most able and likely, and that you should know that it’s possible.” He paused. “If you can create such shields, there may be ways to use them more effectively, but … first you have to see if you can. I’d also appreciate your not talking about it with the other imagers for now.”

“You’re just going to tell us it can be done … and that’s it?” asked Voltyr, not quite plaintively.

“Voltyr … can you explain how to image to anyone else, even another imager?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Explain it to me. What do you do?”

“You create a picture in your mind and think about making it real.”

“How do you make it real?”

“You … just think about…” After a pause Voltyr stopped. “I see what you mean.”

“Description only goes so far. You both know, if you think about it, that some forms of imaging shields are possible. Knowing something can be done is the first step. Figuring out how to do it on your own is the second. In a way, it’s like many things. A child has to learn to walk on his own. Once he can walk and is older, a teacher can show him how to run better and faster…”

Voltyr nodded once more. So did Shaelyt.

“I’d like to hear how you progress on this, but I understand that it may take some time. Remember … we will be going into larger and larger fights and battles … and the better you can protect yourself…”

“Yes, sir,” said Shaelyt. “We understand.”

Quaeryt smiled. “Good. See what you can do. I suggest you practice where it’s not obvious.” With that, he turned and started back to the River Inn.

Behind him, he caught a few words.

“… told you…”

As he walked back toward the inn, he began to think about what he could do to improve his own skills.

When he reached the River Inn, looking for Skarpa, he discovered that the commander was meeting with the officers of Third Regiment in the public room of the inn. So he waited half a glass and then slipped into the public room as the officers were leaving.

Skarpa caught sight of Quaeryt and motioned to him.

“Did you find any supplies at the High Holder’s place?”

“No, sir. Everything was locked and shuttered, and there were no recent tracks or signs of anyone being there recently. The imagers undid the locks on the storerooms and all the buildings. They were empty. Just like his warehouses here in town. We replaced the locks and left the grounds and buildings untouched.”

Skarpa nodded. “No sense in ransacking if there’s nothing we need.”

“I thought I’d take some men to the next nearest High Holder tomorrow … if you didn’t have any reason I shouldn’t. His place is something like ten or twelve milles west.”

“How much of the battalion do you plan on taking?” asked Skarpa.

“I’d thought one of the Khellan companies would be sufficient.”

“Take two. The scouts haven’t seen signs of more Bovarians, but I’d feel better if you took two. And tell the officers the dispatch riders on Jeudi will also carry personal missives-for the usual considerations.” Skarpa smiled. “I imagine you might be using their services.”

“I just might,” Quaeryt agreed.

Skarpa nodded, effectively a dismissal, and Quaeryt left to check with Zhelan and the company commanders before the evening meal.

That night, after eating and handling other duties, Quaeryt settled into his chamber in the River Inn and wrote down his recollections of the high holdings and holders he had visited since he had left Ferravyl, while he could still remember details. Then he wrote a few more lines on his growing letter to Vaelora. Finally, he opened Rholan and the Nameless and began to page through it, trying to see if the unknown author had ever commented on death and the ceremonies surrounding it. He was about to turn past a chapter that seemed to deal with justice and mercy when a phrase caught his eye, and he went back and read through it once more.

Rholan spoke often of justice and mercy. While he deserves credit for addressing them both and for expounding the distinctions between them, he was even more astute in recognizing the fundamental difference between justice and law, perhaps because he had suffered from that difference as the bastard son of a High Holder. Rholan was far more competent than his younger half brother, who in fact inherited the lands of Niasaen upon the death of their father and who squandered it all before his early death in a drunken stupor in his hunting lodge, leaving his young widow no choice but to marry the second son of their father’s greatest rival …

It could not but have galled Rholan to be the one Thierysa requested to return Nial’s body to the hold house, for he had pled suit to her, and despite her affection for him, she rejected his suit in order to save her own family’s fortune … and in the end, she had to marry another she did not love to save herself.

It may well be that Rholan’s later views on funeral ceremonies took root after the death of his half brother, because in accepting the charge by his brother’s widow, he had to deal with a corpse that had putrefied greatly in the summer heat and doubtless sit through a lengthy memorial before Nial was quickly placed in the elaborate stone mausoleum that still dominates Niasaen Hold. All of that celebration of a younger half brother who was a wastrel likely had great impact, because Rholan held forth on more than one occasion upon the vanity of glorifying the body both in life and in death, and of the total emptiness of the gesture of elaborate tombs, claiming that a man’s worth lay in his deeds, not in the exaltation of his name after his death … and that the body might well be burned for all the good the cost of such funeral arrangements did a man, his family, or his reputation.

Quaeryt nodded slowly. What the writer had put down made sense, but it also raised another mystery, again. Who was the writer, that he knew so much about Rholan, and why had he chosen to remain nameless?