Imager’s Battalion

if we share the same blood, interesting though that may be at times, some further thoughts have occurred to me in regard to who may be trusted and why and who may not. The man whose future can only improve if others fail or die is one who must be watched most closely, unless he is one who would prefer to serve than to lead. Yet there is an exception even to that, for there are those who would wish matters a certain way and would advise those they serve, who in turn directly serve a ruler, in such a way as to bring about such ends. Such men are seldom scrutinized for the effect of their advice by rulers because the ruler assumes that his direct subordinate is acting in either that subordinate’s interest or the ruler’s …

Quaeryt nodded. Has she heard about Myskyl’s actions from some other source?

… This is most common, or so I have heard, having no experience at all in such, where men go to war. I can but assume that such self-oriented advice is less common among those who bear arms and risk their lives, and more common among those who are farther from dangers of personal injury …

A smile spread across Quaeryt’s face. She wanted her brother to read those words. He shook his head in amusement.

When he set down her letter, he wondered what he should write. How much and how directly? After more than a glass of struggling with his own words, he looked down at the page on the desk.

My dearest,

Your latest letter arrived in far greater haste than those earlier, and it was with great pleasure that I read it, especially to hear that you are again enjoying your food. Here, of course, our food ranges at best from that prepared indifferently to hard rations or biscuits, or very occasionally less than that.

We are now recuperating from our efforts in the ancient town of Nordeau, which we now hold, the Bovarians, those who survived, having fled. Through some form of miscommunication, Commander Skarpa’s forces first took the southern part, and then two days later, the northern part. Marshal Deucalon’s forces arrived almost two days later. My undercaptains all survived, but several of us are rather bruised, still, and sore, but will certainly recover before we press on … whenever that may be.

As in Solis, harvest here has been especially hot and damp, and there is no sign of the weather becoming cooler, although we have had more rain here than has apparently fallen on Piedryn. It would be for the best, I fear, if the weather remains warm, but the Nameless will have things as they will be …

As for your thoughts on the trustworthiness of advice, in the end, the trust must rest in the character of the man or the woman, and not in the position that either may hold. You suggested that there is a greater risk of untrustworthiness among those of higher position, and I fear, alas, that such is indeed so, particularly when the ambitions of a man exceed his true abilities, especially of those men who have not been tested, always having been in secondary positions. Yet who of us can accurately judge what we may accomplish and what we may not …

Another glass passed before Quaeryt finished the letter and went to find a courier to dispatch it … and that took more than a glass before he finally entrusted the missive to one of Skarpa’s majors, with a silver for the dispatch rider.

66

On Vendrei, Quaeryt mustered the imager undercaptains and put them through imaging drills, both morning and afternoon, allowing several glasses rest in between. He did not press Shaelyt excessively, but Shaelyt did seem to be recovering somewhat more quickly than had Quaeryt, possibly because he was younger … or because he had not taken the brunt of the musket fire. By the end of the afternoon session, it was clear that both young Pharsi undercaptains had greatly improved. Quaeryt had to smile at the thought that they were now the “young” imagers, and Shaelyt, who he had thought was young, was now no longer so, at least comparatively.

But then, battles and death age us all, in mind if not in body. He paused, then had a second thought. Except for those not wise enough to age.

He went to bed on Vendrei evening having heard nothing from Skarpa, not that the lack of information surprised him. He was certain Skarpa had heard nothing, either.

On Samedi morning, after returning from arranging for the undercaptains to work with the best of Zhelan’s squad leaders on improving their use of the sabre, he was sitting alone in the public room of the Stone’s Rest, looking at a mug of lager that a serving girl had just brought him, when a trooper hurried in.

“Sir! Lord Bhayar is looking for you.”

“I’ll need to saddle the mare.” Quaeryt thought he was up to that, finally. He took a swallow of the lager that he had not even sipped and then stood. “That won’t take but a fraction of a quint, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“No, sir. He just reined up outside. He’s coming inside.”

Quaeryt barely managed not to choke on the lager. “Tell him I’ll be right there.” He glanced around, then headed for the kitchen. He’d no more than reached the archway when the woman he thought was the innkeeper’s wife appeared.

“Sir?”

“Do you have a small private room, like a plaques room?”

“Why … yes, sir. It’s the door right across from the entrance to the public room. Not used much these days.” She gave him a quizzical glance, as if to inquire why he hadn’t asked earlier.

“I just discovered Lord Bhayar is here, outside, and wants to meet with me. Is the room presentable?”

“Lord Bhayar?” The woman’s mouth opened. “The … Lord Bhayar?”

My thoughts exactly. “The same. Is the room fit to be used?” Quaeryt pressed again.

“Oh, yes, sir. We keep it clean all the time.” She hurried past Quaeryt, and he followed her to the door to the plaques room.

“I’ll be opening the shutters, sir.”

Quaeryt turned and headed for the front entry, meeting Bhayar outside. “Welcome, sir.”

Bhayar scanned Quaeryt. “You’re looking better. Not much, but better. We need to talk before I resume my tour.”

“There’s a small room just inside. Would you like a lager?”

“Not now. It’s early yet, and I’ll have to drink something when I see Commander Skarpa.” Bhayar turned to the major who had followed him. “Just wait out here, Major. I won’t be that long.” His eyes went to Quaeryt.

Quaeryt turned and led the way inside and through the small entry foyer, where the innkeeper’s wife stood to the side, bowing, and then to the open door. He gestured for Bhayar to enter the plaques chamber that could hold comfortably the round table and five chairs, then closed the door quietly but firmly, and turned to Bhayar. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“I do try to inspect the areas we have acquired,” Bhayar said dryly, looking toward the high narrow window with its recently opened shutters. “I learn something about the towns and the people, and more about my commanders. Both are useful.” He settled himself at the table and gestured for Quaeryt to sit.

Quaeryt did so, across the table from Bhayar. He forbore asking what Bhayar had learned in touring the south of Nordeau.

“You and the imagers did a rather remarkable job in reducing a walled city without siege engines. Those stone ramps are quite something.” His voice turned wry. “We’d best not have to defend Nordeau in the future, though.”

“It did take all of us,” Quaeryt said.

“Given the distances between the imaged efforts, I gained that impression.” Bhayar leaned forward. “Since our last meeting, I’ve thought some more.”

“You’ve always kept thinking,” Quaeryt said cautiously.

“I know you’ve wondered how much I know about you, Quaeryt. I’ve always had suspicions that you were more than you represented yourself as. Vaelora loves you so much, and she would not, were you not more than you seem. That has created problems, as we both know. I am pleased that you are considering ways to extend your usefulness while solving a problem that has vexed every ruler in Lydar, if not across all Terahnar.”