Imager’s Battalion

“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.

65

Although Quaeryt desperately wanted to read Vaelora’s letter, trying to do so while riding wasn’t the best idea, especially given how sore he was. He had to content himself with knowing that it was tucked inside his uniform and that he would have more than enough time to read it once he returned to the Stone’s Rest. As he rode across the bridge to the old southern section of the city, he realized the letter would have to wait.

He turned to the squad leader. “We’ll need to stop at the Traders’ Bowl first.”

“Yes, sir.”

While Quaeryt did stop, Skarpa wasn’t there, and the duty squad leader could only say that the commander was meeting with the marshal. Quaeryt left word that he would like to talk to Skarpa when he returned.

Zhelan was waiting in the modest foyer when Quaeryt stepped out of a sun that felt entirely too hot for harvest and into the coolness of the Stone’s Rest. Quaeryt gestured toward the public room. “I’ve had a hot ride, and you could use something while we talk.”

“I’ll not complain about that, sir.”

Once they were seated in a corner away from the archways, with a mug in front of each of them, Quaeryt looked to the major. “You had a question?”

“I was hoping, seeing as you were headed to see Lord Bhayar, that you might have some idea as to when we’d be packing out.”

Quaeryt took a swallow of the lager, a trace more bitter than he liked, before he spoke. “At least two days, and not more than a week. I’d wager on two days, but I don’t think anyone’s been told. You should tell the men to plan on no more than two days, but that it could be longer. We may know when Commander Skarpa returns. How are you coming with getting grain?”

“We should have enough for a week…”

For almost a glass, Quaeryt went over matters concerning Fifth Battalion before he and Zhelan finished. Only then did Quaeryt retreat to the third floor, almost falling down the stairs between the second and third level when he caught the boot heel of his bad left leg on a stair riser. When he finally reached his chamber, he settled onto the chair and slit open the letter. The seal had been tampered with, most likely by Bhayar. After looking at the dates, he began to read.

Dearest!

Finally, a letter from you, one that I so looked forward to and enjoyed reading, although I must say that it appears my correspondence must have been misaddressed for it to have taken so long to reach you. I am responding as swiftly as I can. I have been more careful in addressing this and trust it will arrive more quickly. I was glad to hear that you remain well and trust and pray that you will continue so.

Your observations about how Rex Kharst maintains control over his High Holders were most disturbing. I share your belief that a ruler who wishes to remain both respected and loved should adopt methods more effective and yet less cruel and less obvious. I will be most interested in discussing such with you once we are reunited, though I fear that time will not be soon. Matters here in Solis have developed in much the way one might have guessed. They are not as good as one would like, nor as difficult as might be …

In short, Quaeryt thought, the ministers are quibbling about finances and making matters hard, but not defying you and Aelina outright.

My digestion has improved. That is good, because it has been a very hot summer. I have had to retreat to the coolness of the fountains more than in past summers, and there is no sign of the heat becoming any less. There is also little rain, and the harvest may be scant if more does not bless the lands of Piedryn.

In past letters we discussed to what extent those in power could trust those who provide them with counsel and advice. While at times, I have little else to do besides advise the lady who is as much my sister as