Imager’s Battalion

64

On Meredi, Quaeryt felt worse than he had on Mardi, but in a way that told him he would recover. The good news, if it could be called that, was that Deucalon’s forces were not expected to reach Nordeau until late in the day. Quaeryt wondered what was taking the marshal so long, since he doubted that Deucalon was encountering any armed Bovarian opposition … or that any Bovarian forces remained anywhere close to Nordeau.

Pacifying or placating the High Holders? Or merely extracting supplies and equipment? Both? Quaeryt doubted that he’d learn anything about that from Skarpa, because neither Myskyl nor Deucalon would inform the commander.

By Meredi afternoon, he did force himself to direct imager drills for all the undercaptains except Shaelyt, although he had Shaelyt watch and offer advice to the newer undercaptains. A squad leader dropped by with a message from Skarpa to the effect that he and Khaern were to “hold the south city and keep the peace” and wait for further instructions.

Those instructions came early on Jeudi morning, when an undercaptain who was an aide to Bhayar arrived with a request that Quaeryt accompany the undercaptain to meet with Bhayar at his temporary quarters north of Nordeau. Quaeryt asked Calkoran to supply an escort squad and waited until the troopers were ready.

When Quaeryt did walk toward the front door of the inn, Shajan appeared.

“Subcommander, sir…?”

“Yes?”

“I must beg your pardon, sir.”

“For what?” asked Quaeryt gently, as always, in Bovarian.

“It is said … you suffered all your wounds … so your men would not…”

“So did Undercaptain Shaelyt.”

“The young Pharsi officer?”

Quaeryt nodded. “The same.”

“I must beg you to forgive me for thinking you an old one. No old one would ever have risked his life for another, and not for those he commanded.” The innkeeper bowed deeply. “I most humbly apologize.”

“I accept your apology,” replied Quaeryt, “but I must also apologize for not understanding your concerns. Despite your concerns and worries, you have been most helpful to me and to my men, and I do appreciate that.”

Shajan bowed again. “You are most kind.”

“Not always, I fear, although I try.” Quaeryt smiled and image-projected a certain slight warmth, not wishing to raise yet other concerns.

The squad from Calkoran’s fourth company was waiting outside the stable, along with Undercaptain Yaffon and Quaeryt’s mare. Mounting was still an effort, but Quaeryt managed it without falling or appearing too awkward.

Yaffon did not say much until they reached the bridge over the River Aluse. “Your imagers … created the newer stone spans, sir?”

“They did.”

“It’s said that your Fifth Battalion led the attacks on both the south city and the north city, yet did not suffer extraordinary casualties, yet you obviously have been injured.”

“So have others, and Fifth Battalion has suffered more than enough on this campaign, Undercaptain,” Quaeryt replied pleasantly.

“I did not mean…”

“I’m sure you did not…” I just don’t like probing and insinuations when the main force with almost ten times as many troopers is letting us do all the work … and I can’t say a Namer-frigged thing about it … except generalities. “… but Fifth Battalion has taken more than its share of attacks and casualties.” Quaeryt smiled, but did not volunteer more.

For the first mille beyond the square where the massed musketeer fire had come all too close to killing him-and Shaelyt-the buildings of Nordeau were essentially the same as those south of the river. Quaeryt could see why the Bovarians wouldn’t have risked cannon in the center of the town, especially since they would have been of limited usefulness anyway. And he understood the difficulties of moving the heavy cannon. Or is it that Kharst doesn’t have that many cannon because there’s no way to transport them easily? That seemed more reasonable … and it meant that they’d be more likely to face cannon the nearer they came to Variana-something he needed to keep in mind.

The wall enclosing what might have been called “the old city” on the north side was similar to the one on the south side, but the gates to the wall had clearly been removed years before. Outside the old walls, the buildings were set more widely apart, with far larger windows, and many of the larger dwellings had their outer walls constructed of blocks of gray stone, each block of exactly the same size. That told Quaeryt what had happened to the stone blocks in the walls of the last five milles or so of the ancient canal.

As he expected, the majority of the houses were shuttered, and none appeared to have been ransacked or damaged, but the only living things he saw on the streets were Telaryn armsmen and stray dogs. When he reached the walls around the much newer section of Nordeau, he could see they were lower, barely more than two yards and almost perfunctory.

Deucalon had to know this. Despite realizing that, and what it meant, Quaeryt managed to keep a pleasant expression on his face, but he did shift his weight in the saddle, because riding was less than comfortable.

“It’s another two milles,” Undercaptain Yaffon said apologetically. “On a little hill west of the side road.”

Side road? Quaeryt wondered. That became clear in less than two hundred yards, when the paved main road swung westward, presumably to parallel the river, and Yaffon gestured for them to continue along a much narrower, if paved way that appeared more like a lane.

Quaeryt could see that troopers had followed the lane because the graveled shoulders and even the grass beyond the shoulder had been trampled flat by hooves. The lane began to angle up a low rise, then came to a set of gates guarded by a full company of troopers. The lane split at the gate, an unpaved way continuing north, while the paved lane ran through the gray stone gates, constructed of a different stone than that of the canal and not cut or finished so well, and up the gentle slope to an imposing building that could have served as a palace.

A captain rode forward, took in Quaeryt’s face and collar insignia, and nodded. “Sir, Lord Bhayar is in the study in the main building.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Quaeryt couldn’t help but notice the withering glance the guard captain bestowed on Undercaptain Yaffon, who seemed oblivious to it, as they rode past him and through the gates.

Quaeryt led the squad to the front portico of the palatial hold house, a covered portico extending upward more than two stories, supported by massive square gray stone pillars. There he dismounted and handed the mare’s reins to one of the Khellan troopers who, unbidden, rode forward to take them.

“We’ll be waiting, Subcommander,” announced the squad leader.

“Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded and walked up to the entry door.

Yaffon had to scramble to catch up.

One of the troopers guarding the doors opened them for Quaeryt, who nodded his thanks and stepped into an arched entry hall with a black marble floor and shimmering white walls.

A captain hurried forward. “Subcommander, Lord Bhayar is still meeting with Marshal Deucalon. Submarshal Myskyl would like a moment with you.”

“Of course,” replied Quaeryt politely.

“This way, if you would, sir.”

Quaeryt followed the visibly nervous captain from the outsized entry hall down a side corridor into a small study-likely a lady’s study, given the delicate curves of the desk from which Myskyl rose.

“Greetings, Quaeryt.”

“And to you, Submarshal.” Quaeryt inclined his head just a touch more than would have been considered slighting.

“You do look like you encountered the Namer or one of his demons,” observed Myskyl, still standing.

“It sometimes happens when you get involved in the thick of things.”

“Really, Subcommander, you should delegate some of these matters-or have your undercaptains not attained … your capabilities?”

“They have done rather well, considering that I’ve only been able to work with them two months or so. There’s now a solid permanent bridge across the Aluse rather than those rickety wooden spans. But you should ask Commander Skarpa. The question isn’t how I feel they have performed, but whether he believes they have been useful and instrumental in accomplishing the tasks you have set him.”

“He professes to be most satisfied. But what else would he say?” Myskyl’s smile was cold, calculating.

“The commander has always been known to speak his mind, if perhaps more politely than I have upon occasion.”

“You do yourself an injustice, Quaeryt. Your speech has always been above reproach and as indirect as necessary without ever committing a falsehood. Most masterful, I’ve always thought.”

“I’ve only followed the examples with which you and Rescalyn provided me.”

Myskyl nodded, as if thoughtfully, then asked, “What do you believe lies before us?”

“Exactly what, I have no idea, except that Rex Kharst is unlikely to allow Variana to fall to Lord Bhayar without doing all in his power to prevent it. I am certain that this is not a new thought to you, given your far greater experience than mine.”

“Do you believe he has imagers?”

“I have no idea. If he does, no doubt we will learn of them outside Variana.”

“Have your Khellan officers mentioned imagers?”

“They have not. They have mentioned greed, treachery, and total brutality on the part of the Bovarians, but not imagers.”

Although Myskyl again nodded, Quaeryt had the feeling that, somehow, his response had disturbed the submarshal.

“Well … I should not keep you. Lord Bhayar did summon you, no doubt to be able to assure his sister that her husband was well.”

“That is indeed possible, but I have learned over the years that to guess at Lord Bhayar’s reasons is to be avoided if at all possible.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you were students together.”

Quaeryt doubted that Myskyl had forgotten any information that could be used in one way or another. Instead, he inclined his head. “A pleasure to see you again, Submarshal.” Then he turned and slipped out the study door, walking back to the main entry hall, where he waited for less than half a quint before another captain appeared.

“Subcommander … this way, sir, if you would.”

Bhayar was pacing back and forth in front of a set of long windows overlooking a formal flowering garden when Quaeryt stepped into the long white-goldenwood paneled study.

“Greetings…” Bhayar stopped and looked at Quaeryt. “What in the Nameless happened to you?”

Quaeryt quickly scanned the room. Bhayar was alone. “Several hundred muskets discharged at my battalion all at once.”

“Did you know that was likely?”

“I knew that there might be pikemen and musketeers. I didn’t expect hundreds. There might have been five hundred or more. Skarpa recovered over four hundred muskets. They all fired at once.”

“Then they know we have imagers.”

“They know we had imagers. We didn’t do any imaging after that.”

Bhayar fingered his chin. “You think they might be uncertain?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think they’d be at least uncertain. What I think you should do is to tell Deucalon and Myskyl that the key imagers were badly injured, and you don’t know what they’ll be able to do at Variana, and that you’ll need to approach the city with care-”

“I’m not about to tell Deucalon that.” Bhayar’s words were low, but almost snapped out. “He’s already too Namer-cursed careful.”

“Has he said when he would plan to leave Nordeau?”

“He suggested a week. I told him two days. He offered excuses. I told him they were excuses.” Bhayar paused. “Do you think someone’s passing information to the Bovarians?”

Quaeryt shrugged, and wished he hadn’t as pains shot across his chest. “I don’t know. It won’t hurt to act as if someone might be.”

“That’s true enough. What other recommendations do you have?” Bhayar’s voice was both tired and dry.

“You need more imagers, sir.”

Bhayar frowned. “I meant about strategies.”

“So do I.”

“Have I not found you a number sufficient for our needs.”

“Imagers have made a difference in a number of battles so far, but there are only nine imager undercaptains. I’ve trained them so that they are much more capable, but nine is a small number, and Bovaria is a large land … and together Telaryn and Bovaria are very large.”

“I can see that … but … the marshal and others will certainly worry about what will happen … in the future…”

“You need to worry, if I might say so, sir, about your needs and not their desires. What most people, indeed, most rulers do not understand is that there are too few imagers born in any land to be a threat to the people as a whole. They can only be a threat to individuals, and that threat exists because most imagers live in fear. What you can do is to bring those few imagers together to help deal with not only defeating Bovaria, but with keeping it under control. You keep the imagers in Variana, far from Solis.”

“Solis is the capital of Telaryn,” protested Bhayar. “The last thing I want is a group of trained imagers in Variana when I’m back in Solis.”

“How long can you rule Bovaria and Telaryn from Solis?”

“You are assuming…”

“Am I? Besides … do you really want to keep living in Solis?”

Bhayar laughed softly. “Go on.”

“You need a force large enough to be effective and small enough for you to control and strong enough to keep the High Holders in line, but one not requiring a large standing army.”

“You think your imagers could be that force?”

“Only as a quiet last resort, sir. What I would suggest is that you point out, as necessary, after you take Variana, and only then, is that by putting the imagers in one place, you reduce the danger to the people and you train the imagers to be useful to the ruler and the people. In return for safety and a good education, they will serve Telaryn … much as the scholars assured that I would serve you.” Quaeryt smiled wryly. “Even if they did not know it.”

“You are a dangerous man, Quaeryt.” Bhayar paused. “Assuming … just assuming … that I agree to all of this … what happens when Clayar succeeds me and you are gone?”

“That’s why you set up the school and the grounds and the training now … after you take control of Bovaria. You train all the young imagers in their roles as a pillar of the ruler, and you make sure they all know what happened to imagers in the past, and how they are treated in other lands across the world … Perhaps you even give a gold or silvers to parents who send their imager children to the school … you’ve already set a precedent similar to that.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Some of it for years, and some only for months,” Quaeryt admitted.

“What if we must leave Bovaria? While we are winning now … who knows?”

“Then send Vaelora and me and the imagers back to Extela, and we’ll set up the school and training there. That will still increase your power.”

Bhayar smiled, an expression both warm and calculating. “You have thought this through in great detail.”

“I’ve tried,” Quaeryt admitted. “Also, if we incorporate a scholarly element, with a school and a large library, it will seem more familiar to many.”

“It might also give me greater control over the scholars.”

“In a way that would not seem so.”

“Well … I have to say I’m intrigued, and I like the idea. It would also keep Vaelora busy. But you’d have to be the head of it. It wouldn’t work any other way.”

“For the next years,” Quaeryt said, “but it needs to be set up in a way that it doesn’t depend on who succeeds in power among the imagers.”

“That … that will take some doing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now … what do you think awaits us in Variana?”

“The largest army ever assembled in Lydar,” Quaeryt said bluntly. “Kharst will try to crush us so thoroughly that he can do what he will. You must destroy him in a way he does not see coming.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“You will have to merge both the northern and southern forces so that Kharst faces a united force. That way, he will believe that if he destroys that army, he can march down the River Aluse all the way to Solis.”

“Deucalon won’t like that. He is the marshal.”

“Insist on putting Fifth Battalion in front, backed and flanked by the rest of Commander Skarpa’s forces. That way, you can tell Deucalon that he can maneuver as he pleases after the Bovarians attack. You can also point out, by letting the imagers take the brunt of the attack first, that will assure fewer casualties among his troops.”

“Should we join forces together on the way to Variana?”

“No, sir. We should join somewhere south of Variana, so that Kharst will not know where we might strike.”

“Where would that be, Subcommander Marshal?” asked Bhayar ironically.

“Wherever necessary to make him attack us in full force.”

Bhayar laughed.

When Bhayar’s laugh died away, Quaeryt added, “I’d also suggest not telling Deucalon about massing forces until as late as possible and not before we’re close enough to know where Kharst’s forces are. Suggest that the marshal’s strategy of keeping the southern army small and mobile has worked so far and that you see no reason to alter it until circumstances change.”

“You don’t trust him much.”

“I have far more to gain if you win and everything to lose if you do. Whom would your father have trusted?”

Bhayar nodded.

Quaeryt wasn’t quite so sure what that nod meant.

“Vaelora said I should trust you above all others. Did you tell her to say that?”

“Nameless, no. I’d never tell her what to say to you … or anyone else.”

“You and anyone who knows her well.” Bhayar shook his head. “Is there anything else?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know, if you think about it.”

“You sound like my father, rather than my friend.”

“I only met him that one time, you know?”

Bhayar gave a short barked laugh. “You know what he said?”

“No. I have no idea.”

“He said you were the kind of man to keep as a friend, and never make an enemy. He was right, I’ve learned.” Bhayar smiled. “I almost forgot.” He reached down and picked up an envelope, extending it. “From Vaelora. It was enclosed in a letter to me. She mentioned fearing that her missives to you were experiencing ‘undue delay.’” His eyebrows lifted. “I assume you wrote her about it? Was that necessary? You did mention that to me earlier.”

Quaeryt took the missive. “I did write and tell her that the letter forwarded to me by the new governor of Montagne arrived with her last missive to me, even though the governor’s letter had been dispatched almost two weeks later.”

“I don’t need reminding from both of you, Quaeryt.”

Sometimes you do. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep that in mind.” Bhayar gestured toward the study door. “I need to think, and you need to write a letter.”

Quaeryt smiled, nodded, and bowed slightly, then turned and slipped from the study.

As he walked out from the vaulted entry hall into the hot harvest noon, Quaeryt wondered if another undercaptain would be waiting to accompany him back to the Stone’s Rest.

There wasn’t.

The squad from fourth company formed up, and a ranker rode forward leading the mare.