Smaethyl’s dart was half the size of the previous one and buried half its length in the wood as it carried the plank to the back ends of the barrel butt, and then over, so that the plank dropped until it was wedged between the barrel and the stable wall, the iron dart still protruding.
“Good,” declared Quaeryt. “Barbed blade?”
“Yes, sir.” Smaethyl’s face showed momentary puzzlement.
“You look like a hunter, and the blade didn’t move.” Quaeryt nodded to Voltyr. “If you’d image away the dart and re-set the plank.”
The dart vanished from the plank and reappeared at Voltyr’s feet. He picked it up and handed it to Quaeryt. Then he and Shaelyt walked forward to the barrel and replaced the plank, then returned to their position behind Quaeryt.
Quaeryt kept his smile within his face after watching Horan’s face as Voltyr imaged away the knife. The older imager had clearly been surprised. Good. After a few more surprises, he might not be so arrogant. “Undercaptain Lhandor, your turn.”
Lhandor’s dart was more elegantly shaped, but buried itself in the plank as deeply as had that of Smaethyl.
“Your turn, Undercaptain Horan.”
Horan didn’t image a dart, but something more like an ax that splintered the top of the plank.
Quaeryt looked at the perspiration and the redness suffusing the older imager’s face. “If you would do that again.”
Horan opened his mouth, then shut it, and turned to face the plank. A second ax dart wedged itself into the plank, but not nearly so deeply. Horan staggered, then lowered his head for several moments.
“Undercaptain Horan,” said Quaeryt firmly but not angrily. “We’re training for war, not for hunting. If you use all your strength in the first effort, the least experienced trooper will be able to knock you out of the saddle in moments. The idea is to be able to repeat the effort, quickly time after time.”
Horan straightened.
Quaeryt could almost read the other’s thoughts. He concentrated.
One after the other, five iron darts buried themselves in the plank, with such force that they went through the wood and pinned the plank to the stable wall, so quickly that the plank was not slanted in the slightest.
“Do you see?” asked Quaeryt, smiling.
Horan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Now … one of the tactics that has been most useful in dealing with the Bovarians is imaging thick and acrid smoke mixed with the finest grains of pepper. For some reason,” continued Quaeryt, “they find it hard to concentrate on trying to kill us when they have trouble seeing and they are sneezing violently. Undercaptain Shaelyt will demonstrate…”
Quaeryt, Voltyr, and Shaelyt worked with the newest undercaptains until two quints past fourth glass, when Quaeryt dismissed them all in time to wash up before mess. He returned to the factor’s house and washed as well, for although he had not been exhausted from imaging, the afternoon had still been hot and damp, and his face was damp and coated in dust and sweat.
After he cleaned up, he went down to the study, where he sat down at the plaques table and considered what he had seen of the four imagers. All of them were as accomplished, if not slightly more so, than Shaelyt had initially been. That made sense, because accomplished imagers who were either more isolated or more accomplished might not have been so easily discovered.
Then, a good quint before the evening mess, Quaeryt raised a concealment shield and slipped out of the study when no one was looking and eased down the hallway to a point near the archway into the main dining chamber where the officers were beginning to gather.
Smaethyl was talking to Desyrk, and Quaeryt could only catch some of the words.
“… always … work that hard … so quick…”
“… had us out working and seeing what we could do the morning after he showed up.”
“… always wants us to do more,” murmured Baelthm. “… find you can…”
Horan looked at Threkhyl and lowered his voice. “The officers in the other army never said the subcommander was a master imager. They said he was a scholar.”
“More than a master imager,” said Threkhyl curtly.
“He is both,” replied Shaelyt, “and more.”
The other two Pharsi undercaptains, who flanked Shaelyt, both nodded.
“How do you two know that?” asked Horan. “You never saw him before.”
“We saw him today,” replied Lhandor. “It is worth your life to cross one such as he.”
“He is a lost one,” added Khalis. “Or … as you easterners might say, a Namer-cursed spawn of Erion.”
You easterners? thought Quaeryt. Where is Khalis from? Another Khellan refugee? But he speaks Tellan without an accent.
“Except the lost ones are doomed to do good, no matter what it costs them,” added Shaelyt. “That’s why so many curse them.”
Shaelyt didn’t quite let you know that, either.
“True what he said about being a governor and all?”
“Every word of it,” interjected Voltyr. “He didn’t tell you, but he’s known Lord Bhayar since they were students as youths.”
“Then … why…?”
“Why is he only a subcommander?” answered Voltyr. “Because that is what Lord Bhayar wants and because Subcommander Quaeryt knows his limits and seldom presses beyond his capabilities—except sometimes—when he truly astounds anyone who has eyes to see.”
“You make him sound like … a god…”
Voltyr shook his head. “He is very human. He listens to what others say and thinks about it. He tries hard to be a good man and a good commander, and he’s better than most in those … but I would not cross him for anything.”
“When we might have died if we had fought, he refused to take the battalion into battle,” added Shaelyt. “He defied the marshal for us.”
I had Skarpa’s help and support, thank the Nameless … and Bhayar’s. After a moment another thought came to Quaeryt. How did Shaelyt find that out? From Zhelan? You’d best be more careful in what you reveal.
“… pay’s not bad, either,” added Threkhyl.
Quaeryt did not want to move, for fear of making sounds that would reveal him. So he listened as the talk turned to what had happened on the way to Villerive. Finally the chimes sounded fifth glass, and the officers filed into the dining chamber. When everyone had entered, and he saw no one around, Quaeryt released the concealment and stepped into the dining chamber. As usual, all the officers stood.
“As you were.” Quaeryt stepped to the head of the table. “No long talks tonight. I’d like to welcome Undercaptains Horan, Khalis, Lhandor, and Smaethyl. They’re solid imagers, and they’ll strengthen our ability to deal with the Bovarians.” With that, he seated himself.
After everyone had been served, and lager and ale filled every mug, Zhelan asked, “Do we know when we’ll be setting out on Solayi, sir?”
“Commander Skarpa hasn’t said, but if he’s the one to decide, and not the marshal, we’ll be on the road two quints past dawn on Solayi. I should know tomorrow.”
From that point on, the conversation turned on speculations as to what they would face on the south side of the River Aluse on the way to Nordeau.
After dinner, Quaeryt returned to the study, imaged one of the lamps into light, and settled at the table to deal with his correspondence. First, he needed to write Gauswn, even though the letter would offer no solution. He’d have to send the letter through Straesyr, since regular dispatch riders would only go to Solis and then to Tilbora, but he had no doubts that the governor would have it delivered to the chorister—although it was likely it would take weeks, if not a month or more, to reach its destination. So the first letter was to his former superior.
Dear Governor Straesyr—
I would appreciate it greatly if you would see that the enclosed letter to Chorister Gauswn reaches him, since he took great pains to request my advice regarding imagers and the scholarium in Tilbora. I regret that I ca
nnot provide any solutions for his difficulty and only advice, but I would suggest to you, if news of great difficulty at the scholarium comes to you, that you replace the master scholar with the princeps for the rest of the master scholar’s year, and return the master scholar to his previous position. Of course, if you have a better solution, and well you may have, since it has been some time since I was in Tilbora, I would certainly recommend you implement it …
The remainder of the letter was a quick summary of what had occurred to Quaeryt himself since he had left Tilbor, followed by good wishes and pleasantries.
After that, it took several attempts before he could write the letter to Gauswn.
Dear Gauswn—
Your letter just recently reached me, since Lord Bhayar requested I leave my position in Extela and join the campaign against the Bovarians. I am currently a subcommander in command of Fifth Battalion somewhere in Bovaria …
I understand and appreciate your concerns about both the scholarium and the young imagers who find themselves with you as their only true friend. I commend you for your concern and compassion for them, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that. While there is little I can do at this very moment, I can assure you that I am working toward a goal that may help resolve the problems you brought to my attention. I have also made a suggestion to Governor Straesyr as to one possible course of action, should matters at the scholarium worsen. If you, in your best judgment, feel that the existence of the scholarium is threatened, do not hesitate to seek him out. He is a good man and governor, and just as well as fair.
In the meantime, I wish you well and trust that sometime in the year ahead I can offer more than advice …
He concluded with a few more pleasantries, then reread Vaelora’s letter before attempting a reply.
My dear one,
Your second letter has just reached me, and I have little time in which to respond before we again set out. The battle for south Villerive was difficult and exhausting, so much so that my undercaptains and Fifth Battalion required some rest before joining in the battle for the north side of the city, an unfortunate situation whose necessity Commander Skarpa was able to convey to the marshal with far greater skill and diplomacy than I possess. In the end, we were able to assist the marshal’s valiant troops to some degree, and to help in enabling his forces to rout and destroy a great proportion of the Bovarians arrayed against us.
Quaeryt paused and set down the pen. Why hadn’t there been more resistance? Admittedly, the defenders had certainly fought, but shouldn’t there have been more of them? In fact, there should have been more all along. Was it because Kharst had only intended to try to seize Ferravyl, and then withdraw if matters turned unfavorable? That was certainly possible. The history of war in Lydar had a common thread—no ruler had ever successfully conquered a strong and prepared neighbor, only ones with internal weaknesses or problems. Had the Bovarian attack on Ferravyl been more an attempt to probe for Telaryn weakness, a weakness suggested to Kharst by the revolt of the Tilboran hill holders? Had the Bovarian rex assumed that Bhayar was a weak heir to his father and that most Telaryn forces remained in Tilbor? Given that, had the attack on Ferravyl been designed, at most, as the beginning of a campaign of piecemeal acquisition, as Bhayar had told Quaeryt?
Then, when Quaeryt had destroyed the majority of the Bovarian forces, Kharst had not been prepared for a Telaryn counterattack in force, and had been using the troopers who remained in the east to slow the Telaryn advance, giving up territory while he mustered troops from across all Bovaria. To Quaeryt, that was the only thing that made sense. After several moments, he picked up the pen again.
I did not receive your latest correspondence until after the reinforcements arrived, and that was several days after the battle, but I was delighted to learn that all was well with you, even if Solis has been hot and damp. The newest undercaptains should prove most helpful, and their training is already well under way …
I also heard from Chorister Gauswn, since he wrote me for advice on dealing with the students for whom you helped me draft rules of conduct, and while I could not offer him an immediate solution, I am hopeful that once matters in Bovaria are settled, we may be able to resolve the problems he faces as well by setting up another scholarium, but one designed more for students such as those.
The weather here remains as hot as if it were still late summer or early harvest, rather than mid to late harvest, but warm as it is here or in Solis, I would that we were together …
When he finished the letter, he sat back, then reread it again. Assuming that Vaelora actually received it, he thought she would be able to read beyond what he had written. He could only hope that she and Aelina were handling the responsibilities with which Bhayar had left them, and that those surrounding them were not surreptitiously lining their wallets in too excessive a fashion.
52
On Samedi, all of Fifth Battalion was up early. Quaeryt set the companies to working drills immediately after muster, conducting maneuvers and drills to familiarize their replacements with their officers, tactics, and squad leaders. He worked with all the imagers on both the tactics that had become basics, such as imaging smoke and pepper, and targeting enemies with iron darts, but also trying to at least familiarize the new undercaptains with the idea of shields and shielding.
During the first break in training, at around eighth glass, a brief message arrived from Skarpa, noting that the southern forces had been assigned Eleventh Regiment, led by Subcommander Khaern, and that Skarpa and the other subcommanders would join Quaeryt sometime after third glass to discuss Solayi’s evolutions. Since Quaeryt really wanted to talk to Skarpa before all the subcommanders met, he sent a messenger to locate Skarpa, but a glass later the trooper reported back that the commander had been summoned by Marshal Deucalon early that morning, and that none of the Third Regiment battalion majors knew exactly where Skarpa was or when he was expected to return. The trooper checked with Fifth Regiment, but Subcommander Meinyt had no idea, either, beyond the fact that Skarpa had to be doing something Deucalon desired.
Although Quaeryt suspected he knew where Skarpa was likely to be, he wasn’t about to charge over to Deucalon’s headquarters and burst in and demand to see Skarpa. Such an act wouldn’t change anything, but it would prove to everyone that Quaeryt thought he was above his rank and cast doubt on Bhayar’s appointment of him as a subcommander. So he went back to working with the imagers, until slightly after third glass, when he dismissed them.
At roughly fourth glass, Skarpa rode up to Saarcoyn’s dwelling, with a half squad of troopers as an escort. Quaeryt barely managed to get out onto the portico before Skarpa reined up.
“Meinyt will be here shortly. So will Khaern,” the commander announced as he dismounted. “I sent a messenger to them both. This is midway between all three regiments, and we need to go over our departure tomorrow.”
“We can wait in the study, and I’ll send for some lager.”
“That would be welcome.”
“I thought it might.” Quaeryt gestured toward the entry, then followed Skarpa inside, after sending one of the troopers to have three mugs of lager brought to the study.
Once the lagers arrived, and the study door was closed, Quaeryt sat down across the plaques table from Skarpa. “I need to talk to you before the others arrive. I sent a messenger to you this morning. I’d hoped to talk to you, and I hadn’t realized that you’d be tied up all day. I’m sorry I didn’t seek you out last night, but…” He shrugged. “I should have known better.”
“About what?”
“I received a letter from Vaelora yesterday afternoon, but I didn’t read it until later, when I thought I’d have a moment to enjoy it. In it she mentioned that I would be getting some more undercaptains and that ten regiments were being sent to reinforce us—”
“Ten regiments?”
“That’s what she wrote. What’s also odd is that the letter was sent a week before the regiments were due to dep
art from Solis. Yet it arrived with the marshal’s dispatch accompanying the Fifth Battalion reinforcements. Oh … and the seal had been removed and replaced”—Quaeryt quickly explained about the altered seal and the unusual delay of Vaelora’s first letter—“so when I read about ten regiments of reinforcements…”
“That frigging bastard Deucalon … calling Khaern’s regiment the Eleventh! I should have guessed … I saw an awful lot of troopers, and I asked Deucalon about the number of reinforcements. He never really answered me.”
“You couldn’t very well demand an answer,” Quaeryt pointed out.
“But you could have asked Bhayar. That’s why Deucalon summoned me early. I’d wager you weren’t supposed to get that letter until later … except someone saw it who might report that to him. I had the feeling they were up to something. What they said they wanted was a waste of time after the first glass. When I’d say I needed to get back to the regiment, Myskyl or Deucalon had one request after another. ‘If you wouldn’t mind telling Commander Crecytt about the musketeers … Commander Dafaul about … Bovarian scouts…’”
“But if I went to Bhayar, around you and Myskyl and Deucalon…”
Skarpa nodded slowly. “You’d have undermined me, and hurt yourself, and you wouldn’t have gotten us any more troopers. If Bhayar had overruled Deucalon, then he’d have pissed off every senior officer in Telaryn, except us, and Deucalon would have resigned.” After a moment he mused, “Actually, it’s not a bad plot on Myskyl’s part. He puts you in a poor position no matter what, and even if you got us more troopers, then he’s got a shot at becoming marshal.”
“Or Deucalon throws the blame on Myskyl and demotes him, and we still aren’t much better off,” replied Quaeryt.
“Don’t you just love being a senior officer, Quaeryt?”
“You’ve got no one but yourself to blame,” countered Quaeryt with a smile. “You’re the one who insisted I’d be good at it.”
Imager’s Battalion Page 38
