L. Modesitt: Imager’s Battalion

“Is there anything else for now?”

“No. You and I and Meinyt should meet outside the senior officers’ mess two quints before dinner.”

“I’ll be there.”

Skarpa just nodded, then headed for the main staircase.

Quaeryt looked around for several moments before he saw Zhelan waiting at the end of the corridor and made his way to the major. “Sir?”

“Can you gather all the officers of the battalion for a quick meeting?”

“Yes, sir. I’d thought you might wish to talk to them after the senior officers met, and I told them to stand by. The best I could find was an empty storeroom off a tack room-”

“That will be fine. Lead the way.” After a moment Quaeryt asked, “I understand first company received reinforcements and replacements. How do they look to be?”

“Half of them have some experience, and I’ve had the squad leaders working the others hard.”

Quaeryt nodded.

“You know, sir … about the other three companies?”

“I know that they’re Khellan, and that few of the troopers speak either Tellan or Bovarian, and that each is commanded by an officer who was once a major or even a subcommander. What else have you found out?”

“They’re all pretty much Pharsi. Each company has two officers. One is a major, and the other a captain. They don’t like us much, but they hate the Bovarians.”

“You’re worried that if we’re too effective, they’ll try to massacre the survivors?”

“The way they were talking, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How long have you spent with them?”

“Four or five glasses over the past few days. Commander Skarpa didn’t tell me until Mardi.” Zhelan handed Quaeryt a single sheet of paper.

Quaeryt scanned it.

2nd Co.

Major Calkoran D’Kors

Captain Eslym D’Kors

3rd Co.

Major Zhael D’Kors

Captain Wharyn D’Kors

4th Co.

Major Arion D’Kors

Captain Stemsed D’Kors

D’Kors … they can’t all be related … He almost shook his head. That was the Bovarian naming custom. D’Kors just meant they were cavalry officers. He folded the paper and slipped it inside his jacket, a jacket that was too warm even before eighth glass. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He image-projected a gentle sense of appreciation.

“Those are matters I can help with, sir.”

Quaeryt understood all too well what Zhelan wasn’t saying-that the major knew full well that Quaeryt was more than anyone, including Quaeryt, was admitting.

When they reached the stable storeroom, Zhelan stepped in first, announcing, “Subcommander Quaeryt.”

Quaeryt followed him into the storeroom, where all the officers stood waiting. “As you were.” Realizing the Khellans hadn’t understood, he repeated himself in Bovarian. After that, he said nothing for several moments, running his eyes across the battalion officers before him, some seven command officers, and the six imagers. All of the Khellan officers had brown or black hair, although two were old enough to have streaks of gray in it, and five of the six had the pale honey-colored Pharsi complexion.

Several of them were close to staring at him.

“Yes,” he said in Bovarian, “I am Pharsi by blood, but I was orphaned young and only know a few phrases in Pharsi.” Quaeryt could tell that most of the imagers hadn’t understood a word, but then they weren’t regular Telaryn officers, although he suspected the Bovarian of many Telaryn officers was marginal at best, at least given the reaction to the few homilies he’d given in Bovarian over the past year. He continued in Bovarian. “After this meeting, I will meet with the officers of each company in Fifth Battalion separately, beginning with first company. Fifth Battalion is part of the southern army, led by Commander Skarpa. Our task is to clear the southern side of the Aluse River…” He went on to summarize what Deucalon had passed on at the earlier meeting. When he finished, he looked to the Khellan officers. “If you have any questions, you can ask me personally when I meet with you. Is that clear?”

They all nodded.

“Now, if you please, I will meet with Major Zhelan and with the first company officer. I’ll meet with the undercaptains after I meet with the command officers. Those I’m not meeting with may wait in the tack room.” Quaeryt waited until the storeroom emptied and he was left with Zhelan and an older undercaptain, with a narrow face under brown hair. An old scar ran across his right jaw.

“I don’t believe you’ve officially met Undercaptain Ghaelyn,” said Zhelan, “recently promoted from senior squad leader.”

“I have not. It’s good to see you here, Undercaptain. We’ll be relying on you a great deal because we’ll have to use extra care with the other companies to begin with.”

“Yes, sir. The major made that clear.”

“Do you have any questions that the major hasn’t answered?”

“No, sir.”

“I wouldn’t think so. The major is very thorough, but it’s good to meet you officially.” Quaeryt refrained from smiling. The whole point of that meeting had been for Quaeryt to see Ghaelyn’s face … and little more.

After the undercaptain left, Quaeryt motioned to Zhelan. “I think it might be best…”

“For you to meet the Khellan officers alone? Yes, sir. I thought so. I’ve already talked to them. Major Calkoran is the most senior.”

“You ordered their companies by their seniority?”

“Yes, sir. It seemed the best way.”

“Remind me not to argue with you about procedures, Major.” Quaeryt smiled warmly.

Zhelan looked taken aback, and Quaeryt realized that he’d given Zhelan a statement that a good officer couldn’t really answer. Quaeryt laughed softly. “That wasn’t a fair order. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.”

In moments, both second company officers returned to the storeroom. Major Calkoran was stern-faced, with silver streaks in his black hair. Captain Eslym had short wavy brown hair and was probably about Quaeryt’s age. Both sets of dark eyes fixed on Quaeryt.

“You are young for a subcommander,” offered Calkoran. “The major says that you are brave and that you are experienced. You are a scholar and from the Pharsi. Is that not so?”

“I doubt I am any braver than you who have crossed the Montagnes D’Glace after fighting against the Bovarians for years. I am a scholar, and my parents were Pharsi. My wife has many Pharsi forbears as well.”

“You bear the marks of a lost one.”

“I have been called that more than once,” Quaeryt admitted. “I will not claim that … or disavow it. My acts define who I am.”

Calkoran smiled wryly. “You talk as one as well.”

“As we both know, acts define the man … or woman.”

“What would you have of us?”

“To be good officers. To follow orders.” Quaeryt paused, then added, “And to remember that your enemies are not the Bovarian people. Nor are your enemies the Bovarian troopers once they are defeated. Your true enemy 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.”