L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

I trust this missive finds you and your lady well and prosperous.

I find myself writing in search of guidance, for there are none here for whose advice I can ask. All come to a chorister for such …

Quaeryt glanced to the bottom of the missive, taking in the signature-“Gauswn Holussyn, Chorister, Scholarium of Tilbora.” He smiled faintly, realizing that he’d never known Gauswn’s patronymic, then resumed reading.

… and my experience in matters other than being an armsman and a junior officer is most limited. Master Scholar Nalakyn has improved the course of studies considerably, but in all other matters he is reluctant to reach decisions. Instead of following his own mind or deferring to the princeps, he inquires about every matter from the least to the greatest with every scholar. Long and lengthy discussions follow. In the end, the scholar princeps decides, but not until many faces are red and flushed. I understand that all the scholars will make their wishes known as to who will be master scholar in another nine months, but matters may be most unruly by then. As a young chorister who is not a scholar, I believe there is little I can or should do, yet for all the efforts you made to save the scholarium, I felt I would be remiss in not informing you.

There is another matter that gnaws at me. Before you departed, you arranged for two young imagers to become student scholars. You drafted rules and procedures for them. At present, those appear to suffice, but Chartyn and Doalak often come to talk to me because the other students and the scholars will have little to do with them, save as necessary in instruction and other scholarium matters and duties. They are good youths, but I have some doubts as to whether either would wish to be a chorister, and their isolation is pushing them away from wishing to be scholars, despite their talents. If you have any suggestions or advice, I would be most grateful.

May the Nameless continue to watch over and protect you.

With a sigh, Quaeryt lowered the letter. He had worried about Nalakyn from the beginning, but there hadn’t been many choices open to him … and less time. If Bhayar had let him remain in Tilbor as princeps for longer, he could have done something. But then … he couldn’t do what he was doing now, and that might yield greater results. Yet, what could he tell Gauswn?

Counsel him to be patient? Quaeryt shook his head. Patience would serve Gauswn well personally, but it wouldn’t help the Tilboran scholarium.

As for the two young imagers … the reactions that they faced were exactly why he wanted to create a place that would be both a school and more for imagers-but that couldn’t happen unless and until Bhayar was successful and Bhayar realized that the imagers had been instrumental in that success … and both aspects of that were anything but certain at the moment.

Because he’d need to think over a response, he set aside Gauswn’s letter and picked up the one from Vaelora, noting that the seal had been lifted and replaced. He shook his head. That didn’t surprise him.

My dearest,

We have traveled quickly and today arrived in Tresrives at the third glass of the afternoon. The quarters here are even more deserted than when we were here together …

Just from Tresrives … not Solis? Quaeryt stopped reading and looked at the date at the bottom of the letter-the twenty-fourth of Juyn, nearly a month? Then he looked at the date on the letter from Governor Markyl-the third of Agostas.

Markyl’s letter had taken roughly two weeks less time to reach him from a destination almost twice as far away, even though Vaelora’s missive had been sent on the most frequently traveled dispatch route. Why had her correspondence taken so much longer?

The most logical reason was that Vaelora’s letter had languished somewhere along the way.

The discrepancy bothered Quaeryt. Is that just because you’d far rather hear from Vaelora and wanted to know she was doing well? That was certainly one reason, but her correspondence hadn’t been delayed before. It’s probably one of those onetime foul-ups , he told himself. Besides, who would care about a personal letter of that nature? He lifted her letter again, then stopped. He still didn’t like the time the letter had taken in reaching him, especially when she had used official dispatch riders. But who would delay it? Bhayar might read it, but he certainly wouldn’t have held on to it for weeks.

Finally, he continued reading.

… and they felt deserted. We did not eat away from the mess. Without you, I would not have felt secure, although my dreams have not been disturbed.

Quaeryt nodded at that intimation that she’d had no more farsight flashes.

So much has changed, it seems to me, but as a mere woman, I cannot say whether my feelings are a result of my lack of experience in the wider world or because we are living in a time that foreshadows great change. From the little I have seen, I do believe that those with power are reluctant to relinquish it, and more so when their power derives from another than from their own position or ability. There is none so vindictive as a vengeful assistant who believes one of greater ability has attained position through familial ties, and who will not believe that those in power who have great ability demand more of those with whom they share family than those who are less familiar …

Deucalon, Myskyl? Too many men fit the description of a vengeful assistant, but perhaps another letter would reveal more.

He kept reading through the more cheerful observations about the pleasant weather and her desire to see her brother’s wife, and at the end, he realized that she had mentioned no one related to her by name, nor did her letter bear any identification except a single “V” at the bottom, below the words “all my love.”

Abruptly he realized that it was almost fifth glass and that the officers’ mess was about to begin below in the public room of the inn. He folded up the three letters and slipped them into his personal dispatch case, the one that had accompanied him all the way from Solis, through shipwreck and worse. He could barely fit them in, given Vaelora’s other letters and that the case was far from large. He eased the case back into his kit and then hurried from his chamber down the steps to the main level.

Vendrei came and went, leaving a cloud-covered sky that promised a downpour on Samedi, but ended up only offering scattered showers. Quaeryt found a waterproof and took a squad from Major Arion’s company and rode west to inspect and study the Bovarian defenses surrounding Villerive. Unlike the other river towns, there were neither swamps, marshes, nor forests blocking the approaches to the city on the south side of the River Aluse. In fact, the southern section of Villerive, located on largely flat and slightly raised ground, did not appear that much larger than Caernyn. It was encircled by a recently constructed set of earthworks that extended little more than a mille from one end to the other. Still, an earthen berm nearly two yards high suggested considerable effort, and several score catapults behind it implied the strong possibility of Antiagon Fire. The level ground made the danger from muskets, and possible hidden pits, greater as well. Yet the sheer openness of the approach made Quaeryt question why Kharst had chosen Villerive as a position to hold. When he returned to Ralaes, he and Meinyt discussed the defenses with Skarpa, but none of them had been able to discern what else lay behind that recently constructed berm.

The intermittent rain stopped sometime on Samedi night so that by the time Quaeryt finished breakfast on Solayi and headed to the onetime plaques room in the inn to meet with Skarpa and Meinyt, the clear sky and warmth promised a steamy day.