Imager’s Battalion

47

Quaeryt had barely dismounted and walked up to the entry doors to Master Saarcoyn’s dwelling when Zhelan appeared.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Zhelan. Why don’t you join me in the study?” Quaeryt turned and led the way to the study, the first chamber beyond the modest square entry hall.

Saarcoyn’s study was far less prepossessing than any High Holders’ studies Quaeryt had seen, but with well-polished golden oak wainscoting and bookshelves, along with a matching desk and circular table that looked to have been used for plaques, it reflected more than the prosperity of an average factor. Quaeryt took a seat at the table and waited for the major to sit.

“How are matters with the battalion?”

“As before, sir, since we suffered no casualties today. Only Fifth Regiment actually fought … from our forces, that is.”

“Did the Khellan officers complain about that?” asked Quaeryt dryly.

“No, sir. They did seem pleased at the number of Bovarian casualties.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Quaeryt let the silence draw out.

“If I might ask, sir … what did Lord Bhayar wish of you?”

“A number of things.” Quaeryt smiled. “He said that we would be receiving some reinforcements, enough for first company to be at full strength and add an additional squad. There will also be some … undercaptain trainee imagers. He expects more regiments to arrive in the next few days as well. One of those will be attached to the southern army under Skarpa’s command.”

“What about the Khellan companies?”

“There are somewhat over a hundred Khellan troopers coming.”

“Is there anything else I should know, sir?”

“We’re most fortunate to be in the southern force under Commander Skarpa.”

“Will we be transferred?”

“There was no mention of that. Since Lord Bhayar made certain to tell me that Commander Skarpa would remain in command, I suspect that Fifth Battalion will remain with him at least through whatever is our next engagement.”

“That would look to be Nordeau, would it not, sir?”

“Do you think we’ll face any opposition before that, Major, if we take the south river road?”

“I’d be surprised, sir. They’ve taken far heavier losses than we have. All their unwounded survivors can’t number much more than two, maybe three regiments. Marshal Deucalon lost maybe a regiment or two, but that still leaves him with twelve.”

That did surprise Quaeryt. He’d seen the massive numbers of Telaryn mounted and foot, but he hadn’t exactly had time or space in which to count, and he hadn’t asked Bhayar. And you should have. He wanted to shake his head. There were still so many aspects of commanding that he didn’t know, or know well enough. For Zhelan, and Skarpa, and Meinyt, he was truly grateful.

“And with four additional regiments,” added Quaeryt, “he’ll have sixteen.”

“I don’t see the Bovarians trying to stop almost twenty regiments for some little town.”

“No … not when we’ve got another eighty milles to Nordeau.” Quaeryt offered a sardonic smile. “But then, they might just decide to do that, and try to catch us by surprise.”

“More likely us than the marshal, too.”

“If you don’t mind, Major, I think I’d like to be the one to tell the officers about this at the mess tonight. I haven’t seen the company officers as a group in several days…” And that’s less than two glasses from now … and not much will change between now and then.

“That might be best, sir.” Zhelan nodded thoughtfully.

“If I leave out anything, of course, you can make sure they know that, as well.” Quaeryt smiled. “As you have done more than once, and for which I am grateful.”

“You do what I cannot, sir.”

After Zhelan left, Quaeryt thought about telling the undercaptains before mess, then decided against that, since if it got out, and everything eventually did, it would appear he was favoring the most junior officers over the company officers, and that was certainly something he didn’t want to do, especially since there was no urgent necessity.

Absently, he walked over to the single wall of built-in bookshelves, and studied the volumes there, opening one book after another, most of which appeared to have been unread, and in some cases not even opened. The one slim volume that had definitely been opened and read, often, was entitled, unsurprisingly, Factors and Factoring.

The most surprising volume, to him, was a thicker tome-The End of Naedara. While he knew he shouldn’t spend too much time reading, he couldn’t resist opening the book and paging through it, occasionally reading a paragraph or two. As always seemed to be the case when he read something one section stood out … and he reread it again.

… while Chelaes was the largest and most important city in Naedara, stories told by the descendants of those who lived there suggest that the Naedaran interpretation of the precepts of the Nameless required that no town or city grow to be too large. Yet Chelaes was clearly larger, until the end, when the other Naedaran towns and cities, according to the stories, turned upon Chelaes, tearing down buildings and carting off goods …

The vanity of size-a form of Naming-and they destroyed their capital city … because of the precepts of the Nameless? Or were those precepts just a convenient excuse?

Reluctantly Quaeryt closed the history and replaced it in the bookcase.

When are precepts good guidelines for action and when are they merely a rationale for doing what one wishes to do?

Still pondering that, he left the study, heading out to make his way through the grounds in order to casually inspect every squad and company in Fifth Battalion. Although he expected no surprises, he checked his shields before he stepped out the rear door of the factor’s residence onto the rear terrace, since Villerive wasn’t exactly friendly territory.

Voltyr was standing in the shade of one of the massive pillars, talking with Desyrk, but both stopped immediately when they saw him.

Quaeryt walked toward the pair. “Are you feeling better, Desyrk?”

The undercaptain’s mouth almost dropped open, but he caught himself. “Sir?”

“You looked like you weren’t yourself when we started at the bridge this morning. I was hoping you felt better.”

“Ah … yes, sir.”

“Good.” Quaeryt looked to Voltyr. “How about you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You both, as you’re able, need to practice shielding as much as you can. Things won’t get any easier as we near Nordeau and Variana.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt nodded and turned, heading toward the stable, far too small to accommodate the battalion’s mounts, although a combination of using a riding arena, and tie-lines and temporary corrals, seemed to be sufficient for the time being. As he walked down the steps from the terrace, he caught a few words.

“… how did he know…”

“… never underestimate him … sees more than you’d ever believe…”

Quaeryt smiled wryly. If you only did …

After circling the area where the mounts were kept, Quaeryt approached a captain who was inspecting a horse. He waited until the officer stepped back, then said cheerfully in Bovarian, “Good afternoon, Stensted.”

Arion’s second in command turned, inclining his head. “Good afternoon, Subcommander.”

“How are your mounts holding up?”

“Well enough, sir. The reshoeing helped.” Stensted smiled. “We captured almost fifty Bovarian horses this morning. They will also help.”

Quaeryt laughed softly. “I imagine they will.”

“They need care, some of them. The Bovarians, they do not know horses.”

“I’ve heard that those of Khel are known for that.”

“All know that.” Stensted smiled broadly. “It is in the blood. They say that you rode little until the last year, but you ride like one of Khel.”

“Thank you, but I fear I don’t ride like you do.”

The undercaptain shook his head. “None could tell the difference. I cannot. My men cannot.” He offered a sheepish grin. “The imager undercaptains, though…”

“They’ve gotten better, don’t you think?”

“They have … but they could not have been more awkward.”

“We all have to learn things we don’t do well.”

“Yes, sir. We all do.” After a pause the captain ventured, “Do you know what Lord Bhayar will do … after he takes Variana?”

“That has yet to happen,” Quaeryt replied mildly.

“It will happen, sir … and we wonder…”

“If Khel will be free once more?”

Stensted nodded. “One cannot but hope.”

“Captain … I do not know what Lord Bhayar plans. I do know that he believes all Lydar must be one land or there will always be war. But I … like you … would like Khel to be more like it once was. From what I have heard from Lord Bhayar, I would think he would feel in a similar fashion. But I do not know, and he has not spoken of it directly. He has only spoken that the cruelty of Rex Kharst must be ended.” Even that was a bit of a stretch Quaeryt knew, and yet he felt it was true.

Stensted nodded slowly. “You offer hope, but you do not promise what cannot be. Will you speak for us … as you can?”

“I will.” That, Quaeryt could promise. He didn’t see why some form of the Khellan councils couldn’t report to a governor of the province of Khel, so long as tariffs were gathered and order was maintained. He doubted they would be any more trouble than High Holders … and they might be less.

“Thank you, sir.” Stensted inclined his head politely.

Quaeryt nodded in return and then resumed his informal inspection.

By the time it neared fifth glass, he had not finished what he had intended, and he had to hurry back to the residence … and then wait in the study.

Quaeryt had to remind himself that since he was the senior officer, he couldn’t enter the dining room-or mess-until the last bell was struck, by the trooper serving as mess orderly.

When he stepped into the dining room, all thirteen officers rose. Quaeryt noted that all were seated by rank, although he hadn’t specified that. To the right of his place at the head of the long table stood Zhelan, by virtue of his position as assistant subcommander of Fifth Battalion, and to the left was Major Calkoran, as the most senior of the company officers.

“Please be seated,” Quaeryt began in Bovarian. “I will stand for a moment, so that you all can hear what I have to say.” He paused. “First, I haven’t had a chance to tell all of you how well you’ve performed over the last week, and how much both Lord Bhayar and I, in particular, appreciate your efforts and accomplishments. Without the courage and skill of every trooper and every officer, we would not be dining here … and many of us would not be here at all. You all may know that, but too often what is known is not acknowledged.” After another brief pause, he went on. “As some of you know, I met earlier this afternoon with Lord Bhayar, and he conveyed his appreciation to me personally, as well as some information…” Quaeryt continued with a brief description of what he had told Zhelan earlier, ending with, “… we will have greater challenges ahead, but I am confident that we will be able to meet them through your skill and that of your troopers.” Then he looked to the end of the table and switched to Tellan. “I’ve been telling the company officers that it took the efforts of all officers and men to accomplish what we have, and what you all did was vital. I’ll tell you the rest after we eat.”

With that he seated himself.

Once the porcelain mugs-Quaeryt decided that the factor’s crystal was not to be used-had been filled with ale or lager, he raised his mug. “To Fifth Battalion, officers and men.”

“To Fifth Battalion.”

Surprisingly, after the first toast, Major Calkoran stood. “I do not make toasts. This one I must. I have seen many commanders and subcommanders. Never before have I seen one who would share all the risks faced by company officers and troopers, and other risks as well.” Calkoran stopped and looked to Zhelan.

The hard-faced major smiled and added, “We all know that the subcommander can avoid some risks because of his abilities. What some don’t know is that he has fought at the front time and time again when he had no special abilities left. He has fought when he could barely see and when most of his body was covered with bruises. He has been wounded more than any living man in first company.”

That’s because you’ve done stupid things and aren’t that good at hand-to-hand fighting, thought Quaeryt, although he did not say it, injecting quickly, “No more than any other trooper.”

“To the subcommander,” concluded Zhelan.

After the mugs were lowered, Quaeryt said, in a dryly cheerful tone, “And now it’s past time to enjoy some food.”

He’d judged correctly, because there were smiles around the table.