“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.
“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.
48
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.
“Regime
ntal 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.”
“Exactly. He hasn’t. He’s setting up Deucalon for later…”
Skarpa’s mouth opened momentarily, then shut.
“This sort of maneuvering was one reason why I persuaded Bhayar to send me to Tilbor last year.” Quaeryt shrugged. “But wherever there are people seeking power and influence, it goes on.”
“You’re not going to raise this with Bhayar?” asked Skarpa.
“Not now, and never as such. If he hasn’t seen what Deucalon—Myskyl, really—is doing, and I bring it up, I seem petty. If he does see, and I suspect he does—he’s very good at seeing that sort of thing—then I don’t have to, and I don’t place him in a difficult position. Rulers don’t like being placed in difficult positions. So don’t you bring it up, either.”
“But…” Meinyt broke off what he might have said.
“It doesn’t matter right now. Bhayar needs us. He knows he needs us, and Deucalon knows he needs us. Bhayar will need us for a long time.” Longer than either Deucalon and Myskyl have any idea.
Skarpa shook his head. “Are they that stupid?”
“No. They just don’t know. Bhayar is willing to put up with this sort of petty scheming in Solis when the land is at peace because there’s no cost to it. Or not too much cost. Both he and his father never let scheming cost them golds or men. I doubt if Bhayar will now.” You hope he won’t, and that he sees what you think he does. “Also, I doubt that either Deucalon or Myskyl has seen what the imagers have learned to do. It’s one thing to get reports; it’s another to see. Frankly, right now, I’d just as soon they didn’t see.”
“But they saw the catapults…” said Meinyt.
“What did they really see? Just that the catapults ended up in flames. Sheer good fortune, that’s all. The imagers took credit for it.” At that moment, Quaeryt recalled what he had been trying to remember about catapults, except it was why the Bovarians were using catapults and muskets, but not cannon. “There’s another matter. We’ve seen musketeers and catapults, but no cannon. I can see why Kharst wouldn’t want to try to get cannon to smaller towns, but Villerive isn’t tiny.”
“Would you want to drag those monsters along these roads?” asked Skarpa. “How long would it take to get cannon from Variana?”
“Likely they couldn’t have gotten them this far, anyway,” added Meinyt.
Quaeryt nodded. He’d been thinking of the roads in Telaryn. “Now … what else should I know?”
“Our reinforcements are still two days away, and Deucalon carefully avoided mentioning any ‘special’ officers or reinforcements for Fifth Battalion. In fact, he didn’t mention Fifth Battalion at all. It will be at least a day and probably two after their arrival before we move out. If we have heavy rains…” Skarpa shrugged.
“What kind of regiments … mounted, foot, mixed?”
“Foot and mounted. We’ll be assigned one of the mounted regiments. He did make that clear. Wouldn’t make any sense to give us a foot regiment.”
“Did he say how many regiments would be arriving?” asked Quaeryt.
“He said he hadn’t had word as to how many had been sent.”
“He’s marshal, and he doesn’t know?”
“He didn’t say, and if you’ll pardon me, I didn’t feel like questioning him in front of everyone. I asked Pulaskyr afterward, but he hadn’t heard, either.”
That lack of information gave Quaeryt a most uneasy feeling, but he understood why Skarpa hadn’t pressed.
“Myskyl isn’t happy that we don’t have more archers,” volunteered Meinyt. “There are only six companies in the entire force.”
More than a regiment of archers, and he’s unhappy? But then, Quaeryt recalled that Myskyl had never appeared to be cheerful about much of anything.
“And he’s asked quietly why we don’t have musketeers,” Meinyt continued, looking to Quaeryt.
“I know Bhayar was looking into forging muskets some time ago, but I don’t know what he decided or why.”
“Would have helped if he’d done more.”
There were always hindsights like that, Quaeryt knew, but forbore pointing it out.
Skarpa had little else new to offer, and that confirmed to Quaeryt that the real purpose of the meeting had been to inform him about the scheming of the marshal and submarshal.
After Skarpa and Meinyt departed, Quaeryt sought out Zhelan and informed him of what the commander had reported about reinforcements and the possible departure westward. Once he finished with Zhelan, Quaeryt then sent word for the imagers to meet in the study. They all arrived together a quint later.
Quaeryt did not sit, but stood before the desk and addressed them. “Commander Skarpa has informed me that Fifth Battalion will be receiving reinforcements, most likely in two days. We are to receive some new imager undercaptains. How many and what their abilities are, I do not know. Once I have assessed those abilities, if they are not up to yours, and I doubt that they are, in one way or another all of you will assist me in training them, because we will have very little time before we will be heading toward Nordeau and then to Variana. If Rex Kharst has any imagers, we are likely to encounter them before long. Likewise, we are likely no longer to be ignored and will probably encounter greater efforts aimed at us. I can’t say what those will be, because, so far as I am aware, never before has any army used more than one or two imagers.” What he was not about to point out was that almost none of those imagers employed in past battles had survived the conflicts in which they had been engaged.
“Sir,” asked Desyrk, “do you know how many others will be coming?”
“I don’t. From what I can gather, Lord Bhayar gave instructions that imagers of the proper age in good health were to be conscripted and dispatched here.” Again, Quaeryt was guessing, but since that was what had been done with the undercaptains before him, it was more than likely that the same process had been used. “Are there any other questions?”
After several moments of silence, Quaeryt went on. “While we are waiting, you are to practice your skills, especially strengthening your personal shields. I expect you to work with each other, using staffs or poles to test your shields. At the same time, I’d prefer t
hat you do not maim each other. At third glass, you’re all to meet on the terrace outside the study here, with staffs, and I’ll be going over shielding with you.” He paused. “That’s all.”
As they filed out of the study, Quaeryt could only hope that their working with less skilled imagers would also lead them to improve their own imaging skills. In the meantime, he needed to think about what other imaging skills might be useful—and unexpected by the Bovarians.
49
Even into Jeudi, drizzle oozed from the low gray clouds, but in not enough volume to prevent the imagers from working on various skills and for Quaeryt to test them. Threkhyl had become more and more proficient in creating almost-instant heavy shields and moving them around. So long as he alternated shields, he could maintain that form of shielding for a good quint. Yet, for some reason, he seemed unable to find a way to create and hold a continuous shield for more than a tenth of a quint, and doing that left him totally exhausted.
On the other hand, Voltyr and Shaelyt could hold and maintain light to moderate shields for more than a quint, and heavier shields for up to a third of a quint. Quaeryt took them aside and tried to explain the idea of “triggering” heavier shields. Both understood the idea, but neither seemed able to do so … no matter how Quaeryt tried to explain or demonstrate. In the end, he told them both to just build up their shields and keep the idea in mind.
Desyrk could hold moderate shields for a few moments, but not a lighter shield, and a heavier shield exhausted him in moments … but Quaeryt could sense that his abilities were improving. Baelthm was unable to master shields, but surprisingly, Quaeryt discovered, he had become able to image much larger iron and metal darts up to a hundred yards.
Late on Jeudi, Quaeryt received a brief message from Skarpa that the reinforcements would arrive on Vendrei around midday, and that the southern army would be riding out on Solayi morning. Since the roads on the south side of the Aluse were poorer, the marshal was allowing additional time for them to reach Nordeau to be in position to fully support an attack there, should it be necessary.
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