Imager’s Battalion

“Yes, sir.”

Almost as soon as Shaelyt had stepped out through the storeroom door, Voltyr entered quickly, closed the door behind himself, and looked directly at Quaeryt. “You’re an imager … sir. Isn’t that what being a lost one means?”

Quaeryt shook his head. “Being a lost one means being favored of Erion and also being slightly physically flawed. Blond Pharsi with dark eyes are considered as possible lost ones. I look like a lost one, and I limp like one. Being an imager would be a possible mark of favor, but it’s not the only mark.” Not that anyone ever let you know what any of the marks of favor are.

“You didn’t answer my question, sir.”

“You didn’t ask one, Undercaptain. Do you really want an answer? If I don’t answer, you won’t have to lie.”

“Why should I…?” Abruptly Voltyr broke off his words. “I think I understand.”

“The less anyone knows about what you undercaptains-and I-can do, the greater the advantage we possess. I was telling you the absolute truth about my goals when I said I wanted to make Telaryn-and all Lydar, if it comes to that-safe for both scholars and imagers. A secret shared between two people can usually be kept. One between three usually can’t. Shaelyt suspects. He may even know. We have not discussed that. I’d ask you not to discuss whatever you believe me able to do. You can certainly speculate about what the rest of you can do. You can even suggest, if pressed, that there might be something about an obdurate multiplying the effect of imaging.” Quaeryt smiled ruefully. “Is that acceptable?”

“Even being married to Lord Bhayar’s sister, sir, you tread a dangerous path.”

“No more dangerous than yours. Mine is just different.”

Voltyr nodded. “Given all you risk, you have my word, sir.”

“Thank you. Do you have any other questions or observations?”

“Only that you should never trust Threkhyl, however useful he may be.”

“I’ve worried about him.”

“I would keep worrying.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing else that cannot be discussed before all the officers.”

“Then … if you would send in Desyrk.”

“That I will.” Voltyr smiled, almost sympathetically, and turned.

As Quaeryt waited for Desyrk to come in, he just hoped that he didn’t have to deal with too many more questions and that he could get on with more imager training, including getting them more practice with sabres, as well as having Meinyt or one of the other officers give them some instruction in mounted unit maneuvers … and if and when that took place, he’d be there as well.

5

The remainder of Vendrei went as Quaeryt had planned it, even to the point of getting Meinyt to spend more than a glass detailing the basics of mounted unit commands and maneuvers to the undercaptains … and to Quaeryt, who listened more intently than did some of the imagers.

Much of Vendrei afternoon Quaeryt spent in observing the Khellan companies in maneuvers. So far as their horsemanship and discipline went, he had to admit he was impressed. More to the point, so was Zhelan. Yet it made sense. Those who were not burning for revenge would have long since slipped away.

And no matter what the Khellan majors say … that is going to be a problem, one you need to be prepared for when the time comes.

Late in the day, Quaeryt gathered the imager undercaptains once more, this time for a demonstration of their abilities. All showed considerable improvement, even Baelthm, who could now actually image half-size daggers at a hundred yards. Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder what they, and others, could do if educated and trained from a young age. None of that matters, not unless you make certain Bhayar is successful and you’re part of that success.

Their progress also raised another set of issues. When will any of them be strong enough to learn about shields, and whom can you trust enough to instruct about them? As with too many things, he didn’t have answers, but he knew he needed to work that out in a way that kept the shield ability from being noticed by any commanders, and especially by Myskyl or Deucalon. The last thing the imagers needed was to be used to shield troopers. That much effort, Quaeryt knew, would render any of them, including himself, unable to do anything else, and eventually end up getting them killed because the commanders would use them up to protect their troops, and Quaeryt was going to need every imager he could find, both for their sake … and his.

The meeting with Meinyt and Skarpa was short, since Skarpa only wanted to hear their views on their companies and troopers.

Meinyt was not quite dismissive of the Piedryn troopers. “They know which end of the sabre’s sharp, and they can ride and understand orders. They do their best to obey.”

“That’s a considerable improvement from last week,” Skarpa said dryly “Keep working them.”

“I’ve scheduled drills tomorrow and Solayi morning as well. They don’t like it, but they’re getting the idea that it’s preferable to dying.”

“You do get your point across,” replied Skarpa with a laugh.

Dinner at the senior officers’ mess was quiet, and Quaeryt ate with Meinyt and Skarpa and said little.

Samedi dawned misty and foggy, but the summer sun burned off the fog by ninth glass, long before Fifth Battalion’s practice in maneuvers was over. By the time Quaeryt returned to the bridge fortifications, where he and his first company were quartered, his uniform was soaked inside and out.

Damp uniform or not, he and Meinyt had to meet with Skarpa at third glass, and still blotting his forehead, he made his way toward the small study that Skarpa had found to use.

“Has he said anything to you?” he asked Meinyt as they walked down the stone corridor that was only slightly cooler than outside.

“Not a thing, except that we should have easy going at first.”

Skarpa was waiting for them, standing beside a small table desk. He did not seat himself, but said, “This won’t take long. I was hoping for more information from the scouts, but nothing’s changed. The latest reports say that there aren’t any large bodies of troopers nearby on the south side. The locals farther upriver say that they’ve seen Bovarians in uniform in the last few days, but not in the twenty milles or so west of the new bridge. We should be able to make good time because we don’t have to ferry the supply wagons over either river.”

“We’ll be almost a day ahead of the northern army by Mardi afternoon,” Meinyt said.

“Most likely.” Skarpa nodded. “The nearest bridge over the Aluse in Bovaria is at Villerive, but there’s a cable ferry at Rivecote. It joins Rivecote Sud and Nord.”

“That’s what … sixty milles upriver?” asked Quaeryt.

“If the maps and the millestones are accurate, and I wouldn’t wager on that.”

Neither would Quaeryt.

“I’d like to reach Rivecote Sud well before Deucalon nears Rivecote Nord. It will be even more important that we reach Villerive before Deucalon does. The Bovarians don’t expect an army, even a small one, to advance on the south side of the Aluse. If we hold the ferry and the bridge, then we cut off their retreat … or we can attack their rear. Either way, that will put us in a stronger position.”

“Then we’ll be more than a day ahead of the northern forces,” said Meinyt evenly.

“What the marshal had in mind, I am certain,” said Skarpa, “was that we should never be far enough ahead of his forces that we could not support him. I intend to be able to support him where and when it is possible. There are sections of the southern side of the river where there is no road, only a path. Preparing to be able to support him will require our getting an early start.”

Meinyt nodded, not bothering to hide a smile.

“Can your imagers smooth out things or remove rocks if necessary?” asked Skarpa.

“If they’re not too large,” replied Quaeryt.