Imager’s Battalion

and able to keep the holding in line are officers, and they’d have to be at least majors. That would take more majors than we have. If he brings in the junior sons of Telaryn High Holders, that will mean we’ll end up fighting more…”

Quaeryt nodded.

“We all don’t need to see each holder,” said Skarpa. “That will just slow us up. You should. You’re the one with ties to Bhayar, and he’ll listen to you.”

“I wouldn’t take the whole battalion, just a company, and an imager or two. First company, this time.”

“First company until you’ve worked more with the Khellan officers,” said Skarpa mildly.

“That was my thought. Is there anything else I need to know now?”

“I’ll send a courier if the scouts discover anything.”

“Yes, sir.” Quaeryt eased his mount onto the shoulder and rode back to Fifth Battalion, assigned to follow Meinyt’s Fifth Tilboran.

Once back in formation, beside Zhelan, he turned in the saddle. “Major, we’ll be making visits to High Holders along the way to Villerive. The first will be at High Holder Cassyon’s. His holding is this side of Deauvyl. I’ll be taking first company and two of the undercaptains, Shaelyt and Akoryt. Undercaptain Voltyr will be in charge of the remaining undercaptains.” Quaeryt could sense Zhelan’s curiosity and added, “I’m gathering information about the High Holders for Lord Bhayar. The more information he has, the happier he’ll be about that.”

Zhelan nodded. “I can see why you were picked for that, sir.”

Quaeryt didn’t quibble. He’d picked himself, and Skarpa had agreed, and that almost amounted to the same thing in practice. Almost.

After riding a glass or so with the battalion, but also riding out and making several inquiries from local growers-through closed and barred doors, and at more than a few times getting no answers at all-Quaeryt and first company finally came to a pair of brick and redstone pillars flanking a graveled drive that angled up a low rise to the south of the river road.

Ghaelyn and Quaeryt followed the outriders up the drive, with the company behind them, and onto a hilltop that had been flattened, decades before, if not longer, judging by the size of the oaks that surrounded and shaded the hold house. With two stories, plain yellow brick walls, and a length of less than forty yards, the hold house was positively modest-for a High Holder.

As Quaeryt rode toward the front entry, a brick-paved area with a roof extending over the drive and supported on the far side of the drive by two brick pillars, he saw a tall, dark-haired man, flanked by two others, standing on the brick stoop in front of the double goldenwood doors.

“First company, halt!” Quaeryt turned in the saddle and looked to Shaelyt, Akoryt, and Ghaelyn. “Hold here.” Maintaining full shields, Quaeryt rode forward and reined up short of the stoop. “Greetings,” he offered in Bovarian.

“Greetings to you, officer,” returned the tall man.

“Are you High Holder Cassyon?”

“Why might you suggest that?”

“Your reputation,” replied Quaeryt.

The man laughed, if with a slight nervousness. “I’m Cassyon, but what is it about my reputation?”

“Some people in Rivecote Sud would rather deal with you than with the nearer High Holder. I surmised that a holder with that reputation might be one to greet an invader’s forces.”

“Invader? Most would style themselves liberators or something more flattering.”

“Such as unifiers?” Quaeryt offered a wry smile as he thought of the small volume. “I won’t claim that for Lord Bhayar. Rex Kharst invaded Telaryn. We destroyed his forces, and Lord Bhayar determined that there would be no peace in Lydar until either Telaryn or Bovaria triumphed.” Quaeryt smiled ironically. “You might say that we’re invading to procure peace since the alternative was to be invaded.”

“What do you wish from me … is it commander?”

“Subcommander.”

“You’re young even for a subcommander … or are all Bhayar’s senior officers young?”

Quaeryt smiled. “I’m by far the youngest subcommander.”

“If I may observe, then you are either very good or very well connected, if not both.”

“I’ve had the fortune to accomplish what Lord Bhayar required.”

“As do all officers who survive.” Cassyon moistened his lips. “I understand that your army has the power to take or destroy all that I have, but I would prefer that it not come to that.”

“I have no intentions of such … unless you attempt something foolish. Right now, all I require of you is your pledge not to take up arms against Telaryn so long as we control the lands east of Deauvyl, and to sell any goods we deem necessary at a price we set.”

“Oh?”

“We purchased flour and other goods from Rheyam at about one-third of the market price. I’d prefer to pay more, but at the moment, that’s not possible.”

“What did you do with Rheyam’s goods you did not purchase?”

“Replaced the locks and left them.”

“Might I ask why, assuming you’re telling the truth, you are so comparatively generous?”

“That’s very simple. Lord Bhayar would prefer to rule than to destroy. As for the truth, you can send someone to Rivecote and to Rheyam’s hold and have them see for themselves.”

Cassyon nodded. “And if I do not so pledge? What will you do?”

“For the moment … nothing, unless you immediately raise arms. Once the fighting is over, however, you risk losing everything.”

“If I pledge to Bhayar, when the fighting is over and Kharst has won, then I will lose everything.”

“I am not asking you pledge to Lord Bhayar. I am asking that you pledge not to raise arms against him so long as his armies control these lands.”

“I could pledge and lie.”

“You could,” said Quaeryt. “That would be foolish.” As he spoke the last words, he image-projected absolute authority and the sense that Cassyon’s lands would be in ruin and all on them would be dead.

Cassyon took a half step backward. Then he looked at Quaeryt, even more closely. “Who … what … are you?”

“Subcommander Quaeryt, sometime scholar, former governor of the province of Montagne, and brother by marriage to Lord Bhayar.”

“And you are a mere subcommander?”

“That is what I have earned, High Holder Cassyon.”

“I will pledge not to raise arms so long as your lord holds these lands and to sell to him or his commanders what he may require. I do so because you are not a subcommander, or not just a subcommander.” Cassyon shook his head. “I am not a coward, but a man would be a fool to stand against death upon a horse.” He paused. “Do you require goods now?”

“No. We may never require goods of you. Then, we may.” Quaeryt nodded. “Good day.” He flicked the reins gently, then guided the mare back to where first company waited.

As they headed back down the drive, Shaelyt eased his mount up beside Quaeryt’s mare.

“Sir … what did you do?”

“I talked to him, Undercaptain. I asked him to pledge not to raise arms against us and to sell goods to us, if required. That’s all I said.”

“Sir … even I could sense death and destruction rise around you and flow over the High Holder.”

“Even you, Shaelyt?” Quaeryt smiled. “You’re Pharsi. You’re one of those who can sense what is not said or spoken. Perhaps Cassyon could as well. I did attempt to convey, without words, that failing to pledge would lead to death and destruction. But I said nothing of the sort.”

“You are like the ancient lost ones…” Shaelyt’s voice was low.

“That … I couldn’t say, not having known any of them. I don’t even know who my parents were, save that they had to have been Pharsi, because I look that way and because I remember a few words and phrases.”

“No, sir, you are Pharsi, and you are a lost one. You may even be the lost one.”