Imager’s Battalion

“He started turning red, and then he fell over. We couldn’t get to him until his eyes closed. His shield kept us away.”

Quaeryt frowned. That kind of strength and stubbornness could kill him.

“Snotnose … didn’t know what he was talking about,” muttered Threkhyl.

Both Baelthm and Desyrk edged closer to Threkhyl, their eyes flicking from Voltyr to Quaeryt and back again. Shaelyt remained farther back on the porch, but Quaeryt thought he caught a hint of a smile.

“What did he tell you that you think he didn’t know what he was talking about?” asked Quaeryt mildly, looking at Threkhyl.

“Doesn’t know anything…”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Threkhyl looked up at Quaeryt, but did not speak.

“If you’re going to accuse another officer, you’d best have a reason.”

“Idiot told me to think about holding the air together with little hooks. That didn’t work. So I made it into a wall. Except it fell on me, and no one could see it.”

Quaeryt nodded slowly. “What happened to you is exactly why Undercaptain Voltyr suggested the idea of hooks. It takes too much effort to make and hold a solid wall of air.”

“I did it!” snapped Threkhyl.

“You certainly did,” agreed Quaeryt. “With all your strength, you managed to hold that wall-like shield for only a fraction of a quint. I also would wager that you couldn’t move two paces holding it. If you’d tied it to yourself, you might even have been badly injured.” Quaeryt decided against mentioning death. That would only have made Threkhyl even angrier and less likely to listen. “How long does even a skirmish last?”

“I did it.”

“Doing it isn’t the question,” replied Quaeryt more patiently than he felt. “You have to do it in a way that you can keep doing it for much, much longer. How long does a skirmish last? A glass … half a glass?”

“Something like that,” Threkhyl admitted.

“A shield that you can’t maintain and can’t carry with you is useless. Voltyr was trying to give you an image of something that you can use right now and can build on and strengthen.”

“Tried that … soft like cheese with holes.”

“It’s a start,” Quaeryt said. “If you work on always holding lighter shields, you can carry them longer. Then you can strengthen them-”

“Weak stuff won’t protect you.”

“What happens when an archer looses a shaft through the leaves of a tree? Does the arrow have as much force?”

“No…”

“It just might lose enough strength that your tunic would stop it. Or keep you from being killed. My first shields were like that. They didn’t stop a crossbow bolt, but they slowed it enough that it didn’t kill me…” Quaeryt took a deep breath. Explaining to Threkhyl was going to be every bit as difficult as he’d feared. And if the ginger- bearded imager hadn’t tried to do so much with his first attempt, it would have been even harder.

For that, Quaeryt silently thanked Voltyr.

He looked up to the other four imagers. “We need to go over shields in a slightly different way…”

37

Although Quaeryt saw several companies depart the hamlet on Mardi afternoon, and at least one return, Skarpa did not send for him or Zhelan. So he continued to work with the imagers. Even by the fourth glass of the afternoon, Threkhyl still could do little more than image solid shields or ones that were like cobwebs. Quaeryt couldn’t understand why someone who had so much raw power as an imager could create shields at either extreme but nothing in between.

Is it because he sees the world in those terms … one way or the other?

Since all the imagers were close to exhaustion, Quaeryt dismissed them. Tired and sore as he was, he just retreated to the porch of the small cot and settled onto the sole stool remaining there, letting the faint breeze off the river to the north cool him. For a time, he just sat silently before he realized that Voltyr was sitting on the top of the steps, less than a few yards away.

“Threkhyl will get himself killed before long, you know?” offered Voltyr quietly.

Quaeryt had his own ideas on that, but wanted to hear what the other had to say. “How do you figure that?”

“He’ll either try to do too much in the fighting, or he’ll get so angry that he’ll attack you. He might even do that in the middle of a battle so no one will think he did it.”

That’s been done before. Even as Quaeryt could see Threkhyl attempting such an attack, he didn’t want to have that occur, ironic as it might be. “Do you have any idea why he’s as angry as he is?”

“He was an imager for a High Holder in Estisle … Ghasphar or some such. He was dismissed. He won’t say why.”

Quaeryt frowned. When he’d talked to Threkhyl, the imager had mentioned working for a metal factor in Estisle, imaging special parts and shapes, but not anything about a High Holder. Quaeryt had heard of Ghasphar before, but he couldn’t recall where. “Do you know anything about Ghasphar?”

“He’s into shipping. Threkhyl did say that.”

Quaeryt remembered. Ghasphar owned all the “diamond” ships, the ones with bronze long cannon that fired shells filled with Antiagon Fire. “And Threkhyl’s never said anything about Antiagon Fire?”

An expression of confused puzzlement crossed Voltyr’s face. “No. Why?”

“Because Ghasphar has imagers-or uses some-who can create Antiagon Fire. Didn’t Threkhyl say he knew nothing about Antiagon Fire?”

Voltyr’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, clearing trying to remember. “He said … I think … that he had no idea how it was made.”

Quaeryt snorted. “That covers a multitude of various Namings.”

“What … if I might ask … do you intend to do about it?”

“I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Why?”

“Because … if he knew … Ghasphar would never have let him go … or let him live.”

“But why…?”

“If you had imagers with the secrets of Antiagon Fire, would you want Threkhyl working with it … or knowing the secrets.”

“I see your point.”

“Still … he bears watching.” As if you didn’t already know that.

“Closer watching,” suggested Voltyr.

By the time cold rations were handed out for the evening meal, Quaeryt felt somewhat recovered, if still stiff and sore. That, he had discovered during the Tilboran revolt, was only normal. After eating, he slipped away and tried to concentrate on what he recalled of the Bovarian emplacements guarding the approaches to Ralaes, thinking about what he and the imagers could do to make any attack easier for Fifth Battalion and the rest of Skarpa’s forces.

… what about using shields to block the ends of trenches closest to the attackers …

Except, Quaeryt realized, he was the only one capable of doing that at a distance, and for any length of time. The more he considered the problems, the more apparent it became that, so far, the imaging techniques the undercaptains had already used remained the most practical for them … at least until their techniques and capabilities strengthened.

Quaeryt had no more than drifted off to sleep-or so it seemed-than he heard the alarm chimes and trumpets.