Imager’s Battalion

28

On Vendrei evening, the Telaryn forces occupied the small town of Fuenh eight milles west of the river point. Of the hundred or so dwellings, Skarpa had commandeered the large dwelling above the River Aluse that served as inn and public house. In the early evening, Quaeryt walked from the inn toward the stable that held the imager undercaptains.

Shaelyt and Akoryt were sitting astride a bench, playing plaques with a deck that appeared almost new. For a moment, Quaeryt wondered how that could be, then smiled and asked, “How many times have you imaged those plaques new, Shaelyt?”

The young undercaptain grinned. “These … not at all. They’re Akoryt’s. I do have a deck of fortune that’s been renewed a few times.”

“You didn’t have a sideline before you became an undercaptain, did you?” Quaeryt asked Akoryt.

“No, sir. Not that kind.” Akoryt offered a lopsided smile. “I did tell a few people that I could take their old plaque decks and trade them in for new ones cheaper than they could buy new ones. Mostly gamblers.”

“You’re from Estisle, right?”

“Yes, sir. Why do you ask?”

“It’s one of the few places where you could get away with that. Enjoy your game.” Quaeryt eased away, watching Baelthm, who leaned against the stable wall. The older man was watching … something. After several moments he could make out birds in a tree-a false olive with its silver gray leaves. He shook his head, remembering when, as a boy, he tried to eat one of the hard green false olives … and the bitter taste it had left in his mouth. He could see that the birds were young robins, trying to avoid the sharp thorns in getting to the fruit.

Baelthm looked from the tree to Quaeryt. “There’s a place for everything in the world. The robins love the false olives, and they’ll risk the thorns to get to them.”

Quaeryt nodded. “Sometimes, finding that place is hard.”

“That’s life, sir.” The older undercaptain smiled.

Quaeryt moved on, toward the end of the stable, where Voltyr stood alone, looking through a gap between houses at the River Aluse. He turned as Quaeryt neared.

“Good evening, Voltyr.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“You have a pensive expression. What are you pondering on a night like this?”

“How you schemed to get Bhayar to send you to Tilbor, and how I am now an undercaptain in a war when I once thought that the greatest danger in life was scheming High Holders and jealous functionaries and scholars in Solis.”

“You’re suggesting a connection?”

“It’s more than a suggestion.” Voltyr looked directly at Quaeryt. “Sir … how many Bovarian archers did we kill?”

“You imagers, you mean? Twenty or so, I imagine.”

“Ah … sir … I was talking to Undercaptain Jusaph. He heard that it was thirty-one. I wondered about that. I talked to the other undercaptains and counted up what each of us did. It came to eighteen, and none of the troopers killed any.”

“And?” asked Quaeryt mildly.

“Others might also be able to count, sir, and come to certain conclusions.”

“That’s possible, but I’d like that to take as long as possible.”

“Might I ask why, sir?”

“You may. Let me ask you a question or two in return. Haven’t all of you undercaptains improved far more than you thought possible? Haven’t many of you been able to image in ways you never thought possible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would any of you have felt pressed, especially in the beginning, to improve had you felt that someone else, say … a more powerful imager … stood behind you if you failed?”

Voltyr said nothing for a long moment.

“In dealing with the flatboat attack on the bridge at Ferravyl, or the attack on Caernyn … could any one imager, no matter how powerful, have accomplished all that you did?”

Slowly … Voltyr nodded. “No.”

“If we want imagers to have a better place in the world, or in Telaryn, there need to be more strong imagers. The only time to develop those abilities is when they are needed desperately. That is the only time those in power will allow matters to change-and even then only the best of rulers will allow that. Chayar would not have. Bhayar might not have except that he sees an opportunity.” Before Voltyr could reply, Quaeryt asked, “Have you had any success with what we discussed in Caernyn?”

“Of a sort, sir. For a few moments, but it takes much effort.”

“You might try letting the hooks be fewer or looser, and carrying the shield longer to build up your strength.”

Voltyr nodded slowly.

“Have you talked with Shaelyt about it?”

“Yes, sir. I think he’s better at it.”

“Better … or working harder?”

After a moment Voltyr offered a crooked grin. “Perhaps both.”

“What if one of those archers had targeted you today?”

“I thought about that, sir.”

“You might think about it more. You might also pass that along to Shaelyt quietly.”

“Yes, sir. I will.” After a pause Voltyr asked, “What do you plan, sir?”

“You’re assuming a great deal,” replied Quaeryt lightly.

“I think not. I thought you were a fool to get Bhayar to send you to Tilbor. But you had planned it all out, hadn’t you?”

Quaeryt laughed. “I wish I could claim that. I just knew that I couldn’t do any more than I had if I stayed in Solis, and the longer I stayed, the more enemies I’d make at the palace. Once I got to Tilbor, I didn’t much like the plaques I’d been dealt, but you play what you get.”

“To what end?” asked Voltyr quietly.

“Exactly what will depend on how the war turns out, but we need to develop the ability to support Lord Bhayar, so that he cannot do without imagers. There are too few imagers in the world for imagers to try to control or rule, but if we can find and train others, and we support him…”

“How do we know he will not turn on us?”

“Unlike some rulers, Lord Bhayar is very practical and thoughtful. He already frets and chafes about how the High Holders make his life difficult, and how his provincial governors rob him of his tariffs.” Quaeryt paused. “It is most costly to maintain a large army, but imagers might well be able to use their skills in many ways to enhance his rule … and that would make it worth his while to protect them…”

“And worth the while of the High Holders to oppose us,” suggested Voltyr.

“But not openly, not if the school or whatever it might be called were located near Bhayar and if the imagers were trained as you are … and as you should be.”

“But secretly they still could.”

“That might be difficult if most within the school and buildings were imagers.”

Voltyr looked at Quaeryt. “How do you propose to bring that about?”

“By showing Bhayar, over time, that it is to his advantage.”

“He’s not even here.”

“No, and it’s better that he’s not. He would expect too much too soon. Rulers always do, and others, who have their own goals, encourage them to do so, if only to distract the ruler from their own failures and shortcomings.”

Voltyr tilted his head to the side. “There is great risk to what you seek.”

Quaeryt looked back. “Why not try? Could it be any worse than what … imagers have faced in the past?”

After another thoughtful pause, Voltyr shook his head.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that between you and me … and Shaelyt, if you wish.”

“That might be best.”

Quaeryt smiled. “Have a pleasant evening with your thoughts.”

“You, too, sir.”

Quaeryt turned and walked toward the false olive, then stopped, but the robins had flown away.