Imager’s Battalion (6 page)

“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.

“That could prove most helpful. We’re short of engineers.”

Quaeryt glanced to Meinyt, then back to Skarpa.

“Myskyl said that the northern army needed them in case the Bovarians tried to destroy more bridges, the way they did over the Myal River when we were riding to Ferravyl. So Deucalon took the engineers from Third Regiment and left us with those from the Piedryn regiment. Meinyt never got any engineers for Fifth Regiment.” Skarpa shrugged. “Myskyl did say that if your imagers could build bridges, they ought to be able to repair them.”

“It’s not that easy,” Quaeryt said. “I’m also not certain anyone wants to risk freezing the regiments to build a bridge. He seems to have forgotten that we killed almost an entire battalion of our own troopers.”

“He didn’t forget. He’s never forgotten anything,” Skarpa said in a matter-of-fact fashion. “Though there are times when I’m not certain he’s learned anything from what happens. It doesn’t matter. We don’t have good engineers. We’ll do the best we can.” He looked to Meinyt. “We’ll be sending our own scouts out. Do you think we’ll need a recon in force?”

“Not on Lundi. Perhaps not on Mardi. After that, if we see more than a few tracks, I’d recommend half squads. Full squads as we near Rivecote.”

That brought another nod from Skarpa. “Quaeryt … I’d like to keep the imagers near the front. Do you have any problem riding with me and keeping them close?”

“No, sir. I’d recommend that for the first few days. After that, it would depend on what’s ahead.”

Skarpa continued to ask questions and seek observations for another half glass, then abruptly said, “That’s all.” He turned to Quaeryt. “You might as well leave for Nordruil now, or whenever you’re finished with your battalion. I’d like you back tomorrow evening.”

Quaeryt understood that all too well. Lundi morning would come all too early. “I’ll be here.”

6

On Samedi evening, when Quaeryt reached Nordruil, Vaelora was waiting at the front entrance for him, dressed in a flattering, and clinging, green cotton dress that somehow made her light brown eyes look almost luminously amber. Even before he dismounted, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to lose himself in her. Instead, he permitted himself a long embrace and a tender, but passionate kiss, far more than was proper in public, he knew.

As he lifted his lips from hers, she said, “You’re only here for tonight and tomorrow, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “We leave before dawn on Lundi.”

“Then we should make the most of the time. Dinner will be ready in less than a glass.” She smiled. “You need your uniform washed, and you need to bathe.” After a moment she added, blushing, “Just bathe. Be patient. The evening will be long enough.”

Quaeryt looked at her again.

“That is
not
a scholarly look.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He grinned. “I take it you have already made preparations for my bath?”

“Of course. I don’t want to waste time … either.”

Quaeryt laughed.

Then they walked into the hold house and up the stairs.

Quaeryt had to admit that he felt better after bathing, but he didn’t luxuriate in the porcelain tub, because Vaelora had left him there to make certain dinner would be ready. He had his doubts that her absence was totally for that reason, but, he reminded himself,
you’re far more fortunate in having her than you ever thought, and there are times when it’s best to let things be as she wishes.

He dressed quickly, and as he was pulling on a clean shirt, not a uniform, she entered the dressing chamber.

“They’re washing all your uniforms so they’ll have enough time to dry. Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”
In more ways than one.
But dinner would come first.

They walked down the narrow stairs together. Quaeryt did hold her hand, firmly, but not too lightly.

She looked at him. “I’m glad you miss me.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

Vaelora shook her head. “If you don’t do what you must, then you’d come to blame me. I would not have that.” She smiled faintly. “Do not tell me you wish it were otherwise. I would not love you so much were you not striving to change things for the better. I have not told you this, but I would not change one thing you did as governor now that I have thought about it. I told Bhayar that also.”

“Thank you.” Quaeryt squeezed her hand again. “What did he say? Or did he just look at you with those dark blue eyes?”

“That doesn’t work with me. He tried it too often when we were young. He laughed. Then he said that I was getting to be as dangerous as you, and that he would have to watch both of us.” She shook her head, then smiled. “I told him I’d learned it all from him and Aelina. He said that he was surrounded by dangerous people, and that was the price of using those who were most able.”

“He’s right about that. Anyone who can carry out tasks well can turn that ability against one.”

“So a ruler has the choice between faithful incompetence or dangerous competence?”

“All too often, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

“Still…” mused Quaeryt, “there is one aspect that many overlook. Often those who are most able can see that they can accomplish more by working with a ruler than against him. It is usually to their interests to do so.”

“Unless the ruler is not trustworthy.”

“A ruler should always keep his word … that is, if he wishes to remain a ruler.”

“Has my brother?”

“So far as I know. Do you know otherwise?”

“He did not as a youth. Our father whipped him once for breaking his word.”

That was something Quaeryt had not heard.

“Father told him that lesser men could break their word, but not rulers. He also said that treachery and lying was a shortcut to ruin.” Vaelora smiled ironically. “He also said that there was little need to deceive men, because most men would deceive themselves.” She stopped as they reached the table on the terrace, placed so that the trees beyond the terrace shaded it from the last rays of the sun.

Once they were seated, Vaelora looked across at him. “You are tired.”

“I’m not
that
tired … but the last two days have been long.”

“How did it go with the Pharsi officers?”

“They will obey and follow my orders.” He laughed softly, not quite bitterly. “At least until I prove I’m not one of the lost ones.”

“And what if you are?”

“They may find that they do not want what they have wished for.”

“Oh … dearest…” Vaelora reached across the table and took his hands in hers for a moment, then released them as the serving woman approached, setting a pale lager in a beaker before each of them.

Quaeryt took a long swallow. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he still was. “I do like good lager.”

“You like most things that are good.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

“Don’t most people?” She took a sip from her beaker, then set it down and waited as the serving woman placed a small platter of sliced peaches and cherries before her, and then another before Quaeryt. “I thought fruit, and then fowl, would be good.”

“It all sounds good.” He ate one of the cherries, careful not to bite on the pit, then another, before going on. “I’m not sure that most people like what is truly good. I think most of us want to think that what we like or what we wish to do is good. Just think about what happened in Extela. The grain and flour merchants wanted higher prices for flour, even though the price they wanted would have beggared many people. When I kept the price from going too high for just a few weeks, while restoring order, they all condemned me and complained to your brother. When I questioned High Holder Wystgahl about his motives and about the fact that he’d supplied weevil-ridden flour to the post, he got so upset that he died, and his son and everyone condemned me. No one said a word about the nature of the flour, or that his actions were a theft of so many golds that a poor man would have been beheaded for taking that much. Yet all of them believed that they represented what was good.” Quaeryt doubted he’d ever forget what he’d learned from his short time as governor of Montagne.