Imager’s Battalion

is Rex Kharst and the senior officers and High Holders who support him.”

Calkoran fingered his chin, almost as if he had once had a beard that he had stroked. “The Bovarians fought as demons of the Namer, and they killed when they had no need.”

“I do not doubt that. But … would you be of the Namer? Lord Bhayar seeks to unite all Lydar and to create a land where all are equal, whether Bovarian, Telaryn, or Pharsi.”

“Even Pharsi?”

“You may ask any of the troopers in the southern army about how Lord Bhayar has punished those who attempted to defile Pharsi women or attack Pharsi men.”

“I have done so. They do not speak ill of Lord Bhayar. They say that you were a governor, and that you stood up for the Pharsi. We will follow you, and trust your judgment of Lord Bhayar.”

Quaeryt could sense the unspoken words-and hope that judgment is accurate. “I could ask no more.” He inclined his head just slightly.

Major Calkoran inclined his head more deeply. “Subcommander … sir.”

The captain inclined his head as well.

“I look forward to our working together to make Lydar a better place for all.”

“As do we.” Both officers bowed again “By your leave, sir.”

Quaeryt nodded.

While Quaeryt would have liked to have learned more from the Khellan officers, he understood that the present wasn’t the time to do so. He did plan to spend part of each day riding with each of them.

His meetings with Major Zhael and his captain, Wharyn, and with Major Arion and Captain Stensed were as short, as formal, and as satisfactory as the one with Calkoran had been, that is, acceptable and the beginning of a working relationship.

Quaeryt took a deep breath before Undercaptain Threkhyl appeared, then squared his shoulders and waited.

“Good morning, sir,” offered Threkhyl, pleasantly enough.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Don’t know as I’ve felt any better. Have felt worse.”

“Do you have any questions or thoughts about the campaign ahead?”

The ginger-haired imager frowned for a moment, then asked, “Is it going to be like the last battle, sir?”

“I would judge it will be more like the first skirmishes on the south of the Vyl. That’s until we get close to Variana. Then I’d think we’d see more fighting in larger groups. Have you been practicing your imaging?”

“Yes, sir.” After another pause the undercaptain added, “I never knew I could do some things.”

“Such as?”

“I built a stone tower, all neat like, like the one in Piedryn, in the square. Except mine was only three yards high.” He laughed. “It’s still there, on this side of the bridge, by the approach.”

That answered one question.

“I offered to help the masons on the bridge, but the engineering major … I don’t think he trusted me. I did image some cut stones for the side walls, and they used those. Had a bit of a headache when I finished on Meredi, but I didn’t have as much trouble yesterday.”

“Good.” While Quaeryt was pleased, he hoped the other imagers had worked at improving their skills as well. He still didn’t want to have to rely on just a few, especially if one of the few happened to be Threkhyl.

“Sir … there is one thing…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t like having to listen to that Undercaptain Ghaelyn. He used to be a squad leader.”

Quaeryt repressed a sigh. “He won’t be giving you many commands. If he does, listen to him. He’ll only be doing it to save your skin. He knows far more than you do about staying alive in a fight. That’s especially true if you’re where you can’t image.”

“I’ll listen, sir.”

Quaeryt again could guess the unspoken words-but I don’t have to like it.

“Good. You might also start asking why various orders and formations are used.”

Threkhyl frowned.

“It could just happen that you might end up in charge of a squad if the squad leader is hurt. The more you know, the better.”

Threkhyl looked as if he hadn’t even considered that.

“That sort of thing was what got me into being a command officer,” explained Quaeryt. “During the Tilboran Revolt.”

“I don’t know that I’d planned to lead troops, sir.”

“There are many things we don’t plan for. With some fortune, you won’t have to, but it’s better to be prepared for … everything that you can.” Quaeryt had almost said, “prepared for the worst.” He smiled. “If you’d send in Shaelyt…”

“Oh … yes, sir.”

As Threkhyl left, Quaeryt considered. The ginger-bearded imager was acting more like an undercaptain, but Quaeryt still wondered how far he could trust the man.

Shaelyt arrived, stiffened, and said, “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Very well, sir. I’ve been accompanying Major Zhelan and watching him conduct training and maneuvers. Well … Voltyr came with me.” Shaelyt flushed slightly. “Actually, it was his idea.”

“His idea or not, you were wise to follow it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Shaelyt looked down for a moment, then back at Quaeryt. “Sir … begging your pardon, but I have been practicing imaging ever since I recovered-”

“I suspect you’re much, much better, are you not?” interjected Quaeryt smoothly.

“Yes, sir. I can create holes even in iron plate at over a hundred yards. That’s if I don’t have to do it over water, and I can image a handful of arrows out of the sky.”

“That’s excellent!” Quaeryt didn’t have to counterfeit the enthusiasm in his voice.

“But … begging your pardon, sir, even working together, Voltyr and I couldn’t create a bridge. The best we could do was a piece of stone wall maybe four yards long and two yards high. Neither one of us could see much for a day. Our heads split for two.”

“That might well be because you weren’t facing eight regiments of Bovarians. That sort of threat can concentrate your effort more than one might realize. You also weren’t doing it with others.”

“Sir…” Shaelyt looked down. “It’s said that some of the lost ones … well … they looked like you.”

“I’ve been called a lost one by more than one Pharsi,” Quaeryt admitted. “It’s pretty clear that I’m from Pharsi blood, but as for being a lost one…” He shook his head, then asked quickly, “What else? Did you understand what the Khellan officers were saying?”

“Mostly. They speak a little differently from the way we do at home. They’ll do what you say, sir. Some of them think you’re a lost one. Some of the younger ones think … well … that you’re not.”

“They think I’m a fraud, and that Bhayar’s having me pretend to be something I’m not?”

“Something like that.”

Quaeryt nodded. If you show you’re not, you’ll likely reveal for certain that you’re an imager, and if you don’t … Once again, no matter what he did, there were negative consequences. Then he laughed, softly, but ironically. “I don’t pretend well or convincingly, Undercaptain.” Misdirect fairly well, yes, but out and out pretending isn’t exactly your strength.

This time Shaelyt nodded. “If you’ll pardon me, sir. They worry that you are less than you seem. I can see that you are more than you wish anyone to know.”

“Time will show whether you’re right, Shaelyt. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that thought to yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” Shaelyt’s response was warm and cheerful. “I’d thought to, sir.”

“Do you have any other thoughts or questions?”

“No, sir. Not now.”

“Then you may go. Send in Voltyr, please.”