L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

That did surprise Quaeryt. He’d seen the massive numbers of Telaryn mounted and foot, but he hadn’t exactly had time or space in which to count, and he hadn’t asked Bhayar. And you should have. He wanted to shake his head. There were still so many aspects of commanding that he didn’t know, or know well enough. For Zhelan, and Skarpa, and Meinyt, he was truly grateful.

“And with four additional regiments,” added Quaeryt, “he’ll have sixteen.”

“I don’t see the Bovarians trying to stop almost twenty regiments for some little town.”

“No … not when we’ve got another eighty milles to Nordeau.” Quaeryt offered a sardonic smile. “But then, they might just decide to do that, and try to catch us by surprise.”

“More likely us than the marshal, too.”

“If you don’t mind, Major, I think I’d like to be the one to tell the officers about this at the mess tonight. I haven’t seen the company officers as a group in several days…” And that’s less than two glasses from now … and not much will change between now and then.

“That might be best, sir.” Zhelan nodded thoughtfully.

“If I leave out anything, of course, you can make sure they know that, as well.” Quaeryt smiled. “As you have done more than once, and for which I am grateful.”

“You do what I cannot, sir.”

After Zhelan left, Quaeryt thought about telling the undercaptains before mess, then decided against that, since if it got out, and everything eventually did, it would appear he was favoring the most junior officers over the company officers, and that was certainly something he didn’t want to do, especially since there was no urgent necessity.

Absently, he walked over to the single wall of built-in bookshelves, and studied the volumes there, opening one book after another, most of which appeared to have been unread, and in some cases not even opened. The one slim volume that had definitely been opened and read, often, was entitled, unsurprisingly, Factors and Factoring .

The most surprising volume, to him, was a thicker tome- The End of Naedara . While he knew he shouldn’t spend too much time reading, he couldn’t resist opening the book and paging through it, occasionally reading a paragraph or two. As always seemed to be the case when he read something one section stood out … and he reread it again.

… while Chelaes was the largest and most important city in Naedara, stories told by the descendants of those who lived there suggest that the Naedaran interpretation of the precepts of the Nameless required that no town or city grow to be too large. Yet Chelaes was clearly larger, until the end, when the other Naedaran towns and cities, according to the stories, turned upon Chelaes, tearing down buildings and carting off goods …

The vanity of size-a form of Naming-and they destroyed their capital city … because of the precepts of the Nameless? Or were those precepts just a convenient excuse?

Reluctantly Quaeryt closed the history and replaced it in the bookcase.

When are precepts good guidelines for action and when are they merely a rationale for doing what one wishes to do?

Still pondering that, he left the study, heading out to make his way through the grounds in order to casually inspect every squad and company in Fifth Battalion. Although he expected no surprises, he checked his shields before he stepped out the rear door of the factor’s residence onto the rear terrace, since Villerive wasn’t exactly friendly territory.

Voltyr was standing in the shade of one of the massive pillars, talking with Desyrk, but both stopped immediately when they saw him.

Quaeryt walked toward the pair. “Are you feeling better, Desyrk?”

The undercaptain’s mouth almost dropped open, but he caught himself. “Sir?”

“You looked like you weren’t yourself when we started at the bridge this morning. I was hoping you felt better.”

“Ah … yes, sir.”

“Good.” Quaeryt looked to Voltyr. “How about you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You both, as you’re able, need to practice shielding as much as you can. Things won’t get any easier as we near Nordeau and Variana.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt nodded and turned, heading toward the stable, far too small to accommodate the battalion’s mounts, although a combination of using a riding arena, and tie-lines and temporary corrals, seemed to be sufficient for the time being. As he walked down the steps from the terrace, he caught a few words.

“… how did he know…”

“… never underestimate him … sees more than you’d ever believe…”

Quaeryt smiled wryly. If you only did …

After circling the area where the mounts were kept, Quaeryt approached a captain who was inspecting a horse. He waited until the officer stepped back, then said cheerfully in Bovarian, “Good afternoon, Stensted.”

Arion’s second in command turned, inclining his head. “Good afternoon, Subcommander.”

“How are your mounts holding up?”

“Well enough, sir. The reshoeing helped.” Stensted smiled. “We captured almost fifty Bovarian horses this morning. They will also help.”

Quaeryt laughed softly. “I imagine they will.”

“They need care, some of them. The Bovarians, they do not know horses.”

“I’ve heard that those of Khel are known for that.”

“All know that.” Stensted smiled broadly. “It is in the blood. They say that you rode little until the last year, but you ride like one of Khel.”

“Thank you, but I fear I don’t ride like you do.”

The undercaptain shook his head. “None could tell the difference. I cannot. My men cannot.” He offered a sheepish grin. “The imager undercaptains, though…”

“They’ve gotten better, don’t you think?”

“They have … but they could not have been more awkward.”

“We all have to learn things we don’t do well.”

“Yes, sir. We all do.” After a pause the captain ventured, “Do you know what Lord Bhayar will do … after he takes Variana?”

“That has yet to happen,” Quaeryt replied mildly.

“It will happen, sir … and we wonder…”

“If Khel will be free once more?”

Stensted nodded. “One cannot but hope.”

“Captain … I do not know what Lord Bhayar plans. I do know that he believes all Lydar must be one land or there will always be war. But I … like you … would like Khel to be more like it once was. From what I have heard from Lord Bhayar, I would think he would feel in a similar fashion. But I do not know, and he has not spoken of it directly. He has only spoken that the cruelty of Rex Kharst must be ended.” Even that was a bit of a stretch Quaeryt knew, and yet he felt it was true.

Stensted nodded slowly. “You offer hope, but you do not promise what cannot be. Will you speak for us … as you can?”

“I will.” That, Quaeryt could promise. He didn’t see why some form of the Khellan councils couldn’t report to a governor of the province of Khel, so long as tariffs were gathered and order was maintained. He doubted they would be any more trouble than High Holders … and they might be less.

“Thank you, sir.” Stensted inclined his head politely.

Quaeryt nodded in return and then resumed his informal inspection.

By the time it neared fifth glass, he had not finished what he had intended, and he had to hurry back to the residence … and then wait in the study.

Quaeryt had to remind himself that since he was the senior officer, he couldn’t enter the dining room-or mess-until the last bell was struck, by the trooper serving as mess orderly.

When he stepped into the dining room, all thirteen officers rose. Quaeryt noted that all were seated by rank, although he hadn’t specified that. To the right of his place at the head of the long table stood Zhelan, by virtue of his position as assistant subcommander of Fifth Battalion, and to the left was Major Calkoran, as the most senior of the company officers.