Imager’s Battalion

unhappy.”

“His men weren’t the ones dying.”

“No … but he’s lost more troopers than we have. More than two regiments worth in dead and wounded. That’s what I heard from the dispatch couriers.”

Quaeryt frowned. “There are more and larger towns on the north side of the river. That’s why he needed a bigger force.”

“He’s losing a greater proportion than we are. That’s because … he says … he doesn’t have Fifth Battalion.”

“He didn’t want us. Even without Fifth Battalion, you wouldn’t be losing as great a proportion as he is.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Skarpa sighed. “He thinks if a trooper can move, he can fight. He doesn’t understand. Not sure I would if I hadn’t seen what happened to you.”

“Tell him imagers are like blades. When they’re pushed too hard, they break. Rest can reforge them. Trying to make them fight when they’re broken destroys them beyond hope of reforging.” Quaeryt massaged his forehead again.

“He might understand that.”

Quaeryt saw Skarpa had his doubts. “They’re like muskets when the powder’s gone.”

“I’ll think of something.” Skarpa paused. “Where are they?”

“Sleeping … or lying on a bed so tired they can’t move.”

“Your head is pounding, and you have trouble seeing, don’t you?”

“Something like that,” Quaeryt admitted.

“Might not be a bad idea if you turned things over to Zhelan and got some sleep.”

“I mostly have, but I thought I’d better wait to see what you had to say.”

“You’ve heard. Go get some rest.” Skarpa stood.

So did Quaeryt, not quite so quickly or vigorously.

45

Quaeryt slept for two glasses Lundi afternoon, woke and checked with Zhelan, made certain all the battalion was quartered and fed, ate what he could, and went back to his chamber and collapsed. He woke before dawn on Mardi morning, with only a trace of a headache and clear vision. Relieved at discovering that, he hurried into his uniform and went to find Zhelan.

He did not have far to go, since the major was standing in the doorway between the narrow public room and the kitchen.

Zhelan turned. “Good morning, sir.”

“Have the Bovarians tried anything with the bridge or the wall?”

“No, sir. I had squads on the bridge last night and companies on standby just in case-two glasses for each one. That was so all the men would get at least six glasses of sleep. In case they had to fight today.”

“Good. I appreciate your taking care of that. I wasn’t thinking too clearly last night.”

“Sir … what you and the undercaptains do keeps men from getting killed. By now, they all understand that. They also know that imagers can be killed just as they can.”

That might be the only good thing about poor Akoryt’s death. Quaeryt nodded. “Is the kitchen here feeding the troopers?”

“I took the liberty of getting that done early, sir. Some of our cooks are working with the inn’s cook. We’ve got the first two companies fed, and the others will be getting fed in a quint. They have to eat in the courtyard, but for hot food they don’t mind, so long as it’s not raining.”

Once more, Quaeryt was more than grateful for Zhelan’s competence and experience. “That was a good thought. I have the feeling we may have to move over the bridge and into north Villerive fairly soon.”

“I had thought so. The sentries heard horns and chimes late in the day yesterday. Someone was attacking someone on the other side of the river. Have you heard, sir?”

“Not yet. The marshal wanted us to use the bridge to attack the Bovarians yesterday afternoon. I told Commander Skarpa that if the marshal wanted our forces to attack, it would be without Fifth Battalion.”

“Sir?”

“You and the troopers protect the imagers. The imagers have done their best to protect the troopers. Not a single imager was capable of even imaging smoke after we took the bridge. I would not hazard Fifth Battalion without the support of the imagers.”

“You told…”

“I told Commander Skarpa. I believe he found a way to convey that in more appropriate terms.”

“That is a battle I could not have fought, sir.”

“Isn’t that what subcommanders are for, Major?” Quaeryt smiled wryly.

“Better you than me, sir.”

“And better you than me in handling many other things, for both of us, I suspect.”

“Yes, sir.” Zhelan smiled. “Now that you’re here, we could feed the officers.”

“You didn’t have to wait…”

“It wouldn’t have been ready sooner. The imagers … I did send a squad leader…”

“Good.”

In less than a fraction of a quint, the company officers and the imager undercaptains were seated in the public room and eating.

Quaeryt was halfway through the overcooked cheesed eggs and chopped mutton on the slightly chipped brown crockery platter when a squad leader hurried into the public room. He looked around, then headed for Quaeryt. “Sir … Commander Skarpa and Subcommander Meinyt … will be here shortly. Their regiments are also on the way. The commander wants to meet here with you and Subcommander Meinyt.”

“How soon will they arrive?”

“Less than half a quint, sir.”

“I’ll be ready.”

As the squad leader hurried off, Zhelan looked across the table at Quaeryt. “I’d best get the companies formed up.”

Less than the half quint the squad leader had promised passed before Skarpa marched into the inn, followed by Meinyt. Quaeryt said nothing, just gestured to the open door, and followed the other two officers inside, closing the door behind himself.

Skarpa turned. He did not take one of the chairs around the polished but battered dark oak table. “The Bovarians tried to break out last night. It was bloody. They lost close to two thousand men. Deucalon lost a thousand. He’s furious.”

“How can you tell?” asked Meinyt. “He’s always angry about something.”

“Because of the way he wrote his latest dispatch. He wanted to know if I would inform him when Fifth Battalion and Third and Fifth Regiments deigned to resume fighting.”

Quaeryt winced. “We couldn’t have done any more yesterday.”

“How about today?”

“Not as much as yesterday … but the undercaptains can fight now. Some of them could barely even ride at the end of the fighting yesterday.”

“You weren’t much better,” noted Skarpa. “I didn’t put that in the dispatch.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked Quaeryt.

“Fifth Regiment is mustering on the bridge approach, ready to attack. They took fewer casualties yesterday.” Skarpa offered a crooked smile. “That might have been because your efforts flung some Antiagon Fire into the trenches near where Fifth Regiment attacked. That caused some confusion and disorganization. Subcommander Meinyt used that to his advantage. You and the imagers will need to create an opening in the wall you built. It should be as wide as the roadway … if that is possible.”

“We will make it as wide as we can. Then what?”