Imager’s Battalion

76

In the end, Skarpa ordered the regiments and Fifth Battalion to set up an encampment that took in the small hamlet near the battle, if it could even have been called that. Quaeryt did not seek out Skarpa, but made certain that Zhelan had Fifth Battalion well in hand … and that Threkhyl was only exhausted.

“… be fine,” mumbled the burly older ginger-beard before collapsing into a sleep that was as much unconsciousness as slumber.

After settling Threkhyl, Quaeryt gathered the remaining imager undercaptains and briefed them, quietly and quickly. All of them were somber, as if it had taken Shaelyt’s death to make the point that even shielded imagers could die. Then Quaeryt walked out into the gathering twilight, standing alone, his eyes looking vaguely south in the direction of the lake he could not see because of a slight slope.

Khalis followed, saying nothing, standing well back.

Finally, Quaeryt turned. “Yes?”

“Sir … you would have gone, wouldn’t you? Except the commander ordered you not to.”

Quaeryt nodded.

“With all due respect, sir…”

Quaeryt almost grinned at the phrase usually used by squad leaders coming from the youngest Pharsi undercaptain, but just waited.

“… he was right, sir. We can do much of what you can, but there isn’t anyone to replace you.”

“The commander made that point. He was right. I don’t have to like it.”

“Sir … there’s something else. Something Shaelyt told me.”

Again, Quaeryt waited.

“He … he said … that … if anything happened to you … there wouldn’t be another lost one … not for generations … maybe not ever…”

“He told you that?”

“He told me and Lhandor. He made us promise … well … to do what we could, sir.”

Wonderful … not only do you have to find a way to have Bhayar win against cannon and muskets … but you’re being told that the hopes of the Pharsi ride on your shoulders. What in the Nameless’s sake do you say to that?

“Shaelyt was a good man, a very good officer and imager, especially for one with so little experience. He may have thought I’m more than I am.” More than any man could possibly be.

“Sir…”

“We all do what we can and what we must. I will do that, and I appreciate your loyalty and support. But … do not make me into more than I am. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ll doubtless make them again, as will you and every other officer. We can only learn from our failures and strive to do better.”

“Yes, sir.” After a pause, Khalis added, “Thank you, sir. I think I’ll check on Threkhyl.”

In the late twilight, Quaeryt slowly walked back to the cot that held the battered imager, thinking. Another handful or two of cannon … and one less imager … a good solid young man … and a bit more powder and Threkhyl might not have survived, either. You could have been killed the last time. He shook his head. There had to be another, better way to deal with muskets and cannon. And then there was also the risk associated with trying to gain even greater imaging abilities. At some point, will you just attempt too much?

He had too few imagers, and cannon had been more of an encumbrance than useful in all the fighting in Telaryn’s history. There might be a hundred cannon in all of Telaryn, and none of them particularly mobile or suited for land wars.

He was still pondering when Skarpa arrived. In fact, he only realized the commander was there when Skarpa spoke.

“I heard you lost Undercaptain Shaelyt. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt nodded. He didn’t really want to say what he felt. “Undercaptain Threkhyl looks to recover, but he’ll not be at any strength for a few days.” If not longer.

“I had the engineers check things after the fires died down. There were more than twenty cannon there. They had enough of those explosive cannonballs to take out several regiments.”

“They didn’t have that many foot troops.”

“No. Three battalions at most. You know what that suggests, don’t you?”

“That they have plenty of cannon and that they’re saving their troops for the invasion of Telaryn after they smash us at Variana?”

“I don’t know it’s that bad. It is a matter of concern. I’ll be sending a dispatch to the marshal shortly. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“You might make sure that your report mentions the death in action of imager Undercaptain Shaelyt, and the near-death of Undercaptain Threkhyl. I’m certain that the marshal and submarshal would wish to know that.”

Skarpa stiffened, just slightly, for a moment before speaking in a softer voice. “I’m sorry, Quaeryt, but it could have been you, especially since you’ve not fully recovered. We need you more than we needed the undercaptain, and there are times when good officers die, no matter how well we plan.”

But there are so few imagers … so few … “You’re right, sir, but he was one of the best and most talented.”

“Only because you trained him and pushed him. Remember that.” Skarpa turned. “Now get some rest. We’ll be at the edge of Variana tomorrow … or fighting another skirmish to get there. There will likely be more cannon.”

Is there any doubt? “We’ll do what we can, sir.”

“I know. You always do.”

After Skarpa rode off, Quaeryt looked into the night sky, where Erion was nearly overhead, seeming redder than usual, although that might have been his state of mind. So much for Erion favoring the lost ones of the Pharsi.

He took a long slow deep breath, still looking in the direction of the lake he could not see, with the acrid scents of exploded powder and wood smoke burning his nostrils and his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, not yet, not after brooding about Shaelyt. The young imager had shown such dedication, such promise, and then … he was gone, and not even in a major battle.