L. Modesitt - Imager’s Battalion

“Please be seated,” Quaeryt began in Bovarian. “I will stand for a moment, so that you all can hear what I have to say.” He paused. “First, I haven’t had a chance to tell all of you how well you’ve performed over the last week, and how much both Lord Bhayar and I, in particular, appreciate your efforts and accomplishments. Without the courage and skill of every trooper and every officer, we would not be dining here … and many of us would not be here at all. You all may know that, but too often what is known is not acknowledged.” After another brief pause, he went on. “As some of you know, I met earlier this afternoon with Lord Bhayar, and he conveyed his appreciation to me personally, as well as some information…” Quaeryt continued with a brief description of what he had told Zhelan earlier, ending with, “… we will have greater challenges ahead, but I am confident that we will be able to meet them through your skill and that of your troopers.” Then he looked to the end of the table and switched to Tellan. “I’ve been telling the company officers that it took the efforts of all officers and men to accomplish what we have, and what you all did was vital. I’ll tell you the rest after we eat.”

With that he seated himself.

Once the porcelain mugs-Quaeryt decided that the factor’s crystal was not to be used-had been filled with ale or lager, he raised his mug. “To Fifth Battalion, officers and men.”

“To Fifth Battalion.”

Surprisingly, after the first toast, Major Calkoran stood. “I do not make toasts. This one I must. I have seen many commanders and subcommanders. Never before have I seen one who would share all the risks faced by company officers and troopers, and other risks as well.” Calkoran stopped and looked to Zhelan.

The hard-faced major smiled and added, “We all know that the subcommander can avoid some risks because of his abilities. What some don’t know is that he has fought at the front time and time again when he had no special abilities left. He has fought when he could barely see and when most of his body was covered with bruises. He has been wounded more than any living man in first company.”

That’s because you’ve done stupid things and aren’t that good at hand-to-hand fighting, thought Quaeryt, although he did not say it, injecting quickly, “No more than any other trooper.”

“To the subcommander,” concluded Zhelan.

After the mugs were lowered, Quaeryt said, in a dryly cheerful tone, “And now it’s past time to enjoy some food.”

He’d judged correctly, because there were smiles around the table.

Mardi night, rain began to come down sometime after midnight. The heavier rainfall had dwindled to a drizzle by dawn on Meredi morning, light enough that the men could be fed on the roofed terrace-like porch that encircled Factor Saarcoyn’s dwelling. After breakfast, Quaeryt again met in the study with Zhelan.

“You think this rain will let up before long?” offered Quaeryt conversationally.

“It looks like it might, sir, but this is Bovaria.”

“Not everything is different here.”

“I’d be having some doubts about that, sir.”

Quaeryt waited, wanting to see what Zhelan might add.

“The assistant steward … well … all of them … they act like any moment we’d cut down any of them or the men would take liberties with the serving girls without so much as a by your leave. They can’t believe we’re … well … mannered.”

Quaeryt nodded. “After the way some of the High Holders behaved, would you expect otherwise?”

“High Holders … they’re different. This is a factor’s household.”

“Factors in Telaryn are better behaved, it appears. So are many High Holders.”

“Might not be so hard as I thought for Lord Bhayar to govern this part of Bovaria.”

“Yes and no, I suspect,” mused Quaeryt. “The people might like him better. The High Holders and wealthy factors won’t.” He offered a short laugh. “That’s something we can worry about later. Is there anything else?”

“The Khellan officers appreciated your telling them about what was happening in Bovarian, sir … but I noticed some of the imager undercaptains…”

“I met with them later last evening and spelled it out in Tellan.” Quaeryt smiled crookedly. “I also suggested that anyone who wants to be useful to Lord Bhayar in the years ahead had best know both Tellan and Bovarian.”

“Some of them weren’t too pleased with that, I’d think, not that they’d dare say a word.”

“Pleased or not, it’s likely to be that way.”

“I can see that, sir.”

“What else about the battalion?”

“We’ve got a good fifty mounts lame or nursing injuries … the ones captured will help … still looking for good spares…”

Quaeryt listened for another quint, asking occasional questions.

After Zhelan left, Quaeryt walked to the window and looked out into the misty grayness, wondering how often Bovaria was so dismal, and if the winters were damp and gray.

“Sir?” Behind him, the study door opened.

Quaeryt turned.

“Commander Skarpa and Subcommander Meinyt are riding up the drive,” offered one of the troopers from the front entrance.

“Thank you.” Quaeryt hurried from the study, down the hall, then out onto the covered portico, where he waited as the other two officers dismounted.

“Good morning, Quaeryt,” offered Skarpa as he climbed the steps to the front entry level. He removed his visor cap for a moment and shook off the rain, then replaced it on his head.

Meinyt did the same.

“Good morning, I didn’t know whether to expect you or not. Would you like to meet in the study?”

“That would be good.”

Quaeryt led the way. None of them spoke until Quaeryt closed the study door and gestured toward the plaques table.

“It was easier to come here after Deucalon’s regimental commanders’ general meeting than to arrange to meet elsewhere.” Skarpa’s voice was even as he seated himself at the table.

“Regimental commanders’ meeting?” Quaeryt sat down across from Skarpa. “Not senior officers’ meeting.”

“Interesting that no one raised that point.”

“No one,” agreed Meinyt, settling into the seat facing the window.

“Was Lord Bhayar there?”

“No. He was touring Villerive. I believe the marshal did not call the meeting until after Lord Bhayar had made plans. I understand that he told him that it was a routine staff meeting.”

Quaeryt smiled and shook his head.

“When you get that look, Quaeryt,” said Skarpa, “it worries me.”

“Do you think Bhayar doesn’t know what Deucalon and Myskyl are doing? People are always underestimating him.”

“Do you want to explain?”

“You know as well as I do,” replied Quaeryt with a laugh.

“I think I do. I don’t think Meinyt here does, and he should.”

“It’s fairly simple as politics go. By announcing a routine regimental commanders’ meeting at a time when Lord Bhayar is otherwise occupied, Deucalon is making a declaration.”

“That you’re not really a subcommander … and not to be considered as such.” Skarpa nodded. “That you’re only one because you’re a favorite of Bhayar’s. And since none of them have ever seen you fight and lead men, they’ll have no reason to dispute that.”

“Exactly,” agreed Quaeryt. “And if Bhayar changes his plans and appears at the meeting, he’s either in the position of not saying anything and tacitly accepting Deucalon and Myskyl’s unspoken declaration … or having to say something and effectively proving that I’m a favorite who needs to be protected.”

“Where does Myskyl fit in?” asked Meinyt. “I can’t see why Myskyl would do this. He’s given every indication that he doesn’t want to cross you in any way.”