Imager’s Battalion

“The imagers?”

Bhayar nodded, then went on. “About many things we agree. Do you know why?”

“Not exactly, except that you’ve always known a great deal and taken care not to reveal nearly so much as you’ve learned.”

“As have you. In that regard we are similar. I’m going to read you something that came from a very old book of my grandmere. She wouldn’t tell me from where it came, except that it had been in the family for a very long time.”

Quaeryt waited.

Bhayar extracted a single sheet of paper from his belt pouch, unfolded it, and smoothed it out. Then he cleared his throat.

The older ones, how did they build so much

to leave no quarries, tools, or plans and such?

Ah, by image, wrenched from servant dreams,

they built the roads and bridges over streams,

with perfect stone no tool can mar or tame

so they did dream and live the Namer’s Name.

But when the dreamers dreamed full awake,

their masters found the Namer’s fate and take …

Who’er would seize the image and the dream

know now that imaging holds more than seem.

Bhayar looked directly across the table at Quaeryt. “When I saw the outer walls of Nordeau, for the first time I understood fully from where those verses came.”

“The Naedarans,” said Quaeryt. “After I saw the canals-”

“Canals?”

“There are two ancient canals on this side of the river. The stonework is the same. The stones used to built the last five milles or so were removed and used to build many of the dwellings in the newer part of Nordeau.”

“Was that why you proposed using the imagers the way you did?”

“No, sir. That reinforced my feelings, but if you wish, you can ask Vaelora. This is something I have considered for some time.” Quaeryt paused just briefly. “Do you recall the bedchamber of the old chateau at Gahenyara?”

Bhayar frowned for a moment. “The one with the storeroom that had shutters?”

“It wasn’t a storeroom. It was a separate bedchamber for your great-grandmere. That’s where the book your grandmere gave you came from.”

“There’s always been farsight in the family. That’s from the Pharsi.”

“There are ten imagers in Fifth Battalion. At least four come from Pharsi stock.” Should you tell him? After a moment, Quaeryt went on. “Vaelora’s with child.”

“I got that impression.”

From reading her letters, no doubt. “There’s a very good chance the child will be an imager.” Quaeryt hadn’t realized it, but he knew that was so.

Abruptly Bhayar laughed, a warm and amused sound, not the cold laugh that meant the worst. “So we both have every reason to create what you have in mind.”

“I would hope so,” replied Quaeryt. “It’s in Vaelora’s and my interest, and it’s certainly in yours.”

“There are others who will oppose that.”

“We can face that when the time comes. They may see that their worth and abilities are not threatened. If we are careful, they will, at least in time.”

“Oh?”

“It will take some time to … stabilize Bovaria-but you’ll need to come up with a new name for the land. And Autarch Aliaro will present certain problems.”

“Quaeryt … first we need to defeat Kharst and capture Variana.”

“True … but you need to think beyond that so that you are prepared. Not that you doubtless are not already.”

“That’s also what you’re here for.” Bhayar stood. “You’ve done well. I would that all were both so capable and loyal. Too many who are capable are not loyal, and too many who are loyal are not capable.”

Quaeryt rose, trying to do so smoothly, despite his aches and stiffness. “That is why you need to set up matters so that the capable must be loyal.”

“After … Variana, we will talk of such.” Bhayar smiled broadly. “We will leave Nordeau tomorrow, but let your commander tell you so.”

“I will.” With a nod, Quaeryt followed Bhayar out through the door that the Lord of Telaryn opened for himself.

67

In leaving Nordeau on Solayi morning, Skarpa rode with Fifth Battalion, once more in the van, along the wide and well-paved river road that led from the southwest gate of the old southern section of the city westward and, according to the maps, to Variana. For one of the few times in months, there was a trace of coolness in the air, but the sky was clear.

Are we going to get a foretaste of fall? Quaeryt had his doubts, especially as the day quickly warmed as mille after mille passed. As it did, Quaeryt began to sweat, if less than on previous days, and he thought more and more about the road. Why, after hundreds of milles of generally poor roads, except for the stretches created by the ancient Naedarans, had Kharst or his predecessors built such a superb road on the south side of the river?

The roadbed itself was wide and solid, but he did notice that it rose and fell more than the Naedaran road, which had maintained more of a level path, and the Bovarian road was, for the most part, closer to the river.

He asked Skarpa, riding beside him, “Why do you think they built this road so well?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Maybe they knew we were headed to Variana.” The commander offered a low laugh.

“Or maybe there are more High Holdings on the south side from here to Variana,” countered Quaeryt, “and Kharst wanted to reach them more easily.”

“Them or the holders’ ladies?”

“Both, most likely.”

The only problem with the idea of High Holdings was that Quaeryt didn’t see a trace of one for the first two glasses of the ride. He also realized, belatedly, that he really hadn’t talked to many of the undercaptains in days, except for Voltyr and Shaelyt, beyond instructing them or drilling them. So, when Skarpa rode back to check on Third Regiment, Quaeryt motioned for Baelthm to ride with him on his right, since the road was wide enough that Zhelan was already riding on his left.

“Sir … have I done something…”

“No. We have a long ride, and it’s been a while since I’ve really talked to any of you. You told me you’d agreed to be an imager undercaptain when Lord Bhayar’s men came for you. Was that forced … or was it a better choice?”

“Some of both, sir, I suppose. It wasn’t like I had that much choice. Fewer and fewer of the local tradespeople wanted me to image things for them, except maybe the masons, and in that part of Cheva, none were building houses that needed scrollwork or metal trim. The gold for going to join you, excepting that I didn’t know it was you, sir, would pay for food and more, enough that Rashyl could feed and clothe the boys. With her lacework, that is.”

“Have you sent script for coin back to her?”

“Most of my pay, sir. One of the dispatch riders brought me a note, a mere scrap. He didn’t take her coin. He said that taking notes to tell a man his pay scripts made it to his wife would have been a crime against the