Princeps

67

On Vendrei, Quaeryt added more drills to what he had begun, starting with having the imagers image small items, first while mounted and not moving, and then while riding. Following that, he required them to try to image holes in a swinging board as they rode past it, first at a distance of a few yards, next at twenty yards, fifty, and then a hundred yards. Only Threkhyl and Shaelyt could manage to create holes at the longer distance. Then he gave the undercaptain imagers a break from imaging and had one of Zhelan’s squad leaders spend another glass drilling them with the sabre. After that, he worked the imagers with more imaging drills.

That evening, after eating, Quaeryt walked through a light drizzle that had begun to fall in late afternoon back down to the river, where he again attempted to image away another section of the pole affixed to a bollard at the barge piers that served Cleblois, while holding the strongest personal shields he could, slightly extended away from himself. While the effort gave him an almost-splitting headache, he could see well enough afterward to determine that he had in fact imaged away the pole.

You just have to keep stretching yourself, no matter how painful it is.

He did smile, briefly, as he made his way back to the post.

On Samedi, he repeated the drills he had conducted on Vendrei, noting that both Voltyr and Desyrk could at last create holes in the swinging board at a hundred yards, although Desyrk could only manage tiny holes, but Akoryt did create larger holes at fifty yards, and even Baelthm managed one hole at a few yards. Quaeryt said nothing as they rode past the board, just listening when they re-formed and waited for the next exercise.

“… don’t see the point…”

“… just watches and makes us do what he can’t…”

“… waste of time…”

“… no real use for any of this…”

Only Voltyr and Shaelyt said nothing negative, but the practice, no matter how much the undercaptains disliked it-and from their comments, most did-seemed to work at improving their imaging skills, and when Quaeryt walked back toward his quarters to wash up and for a brief respite before the evening meal, he was satisfied that they were making progress.

“Subcommander, sir!”

A ranker hurried toward him with something in his hand.

Quaeryt turned and stopped. “Yes?”

“There’s a dispatch for you, sir.”

On the envelope were written two names, one above the other. The upper line read, “Subcommander Quaeryt, North Post.” The lower line read, “Governor Quaeryt Rytersyn.” Quaeryt recognized the lower handwriting immediately.

Quaeryt smiled at the duty ranker. “Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Quaeryt did not even inspect the missive until he was alone in his quarters. As he suspected, the seal appeared to have been heated and then replaced, suggesting that the letter had been read. But Vaelora would have known that before she ever penned what lay inside. He opened the envelope, extracted the single sheet, and began to read.

Dearest,

We have not yet even reached Solis, but I do miss you and felt that I should write to let you know that I do. I am sending this through Lord Bhayar as the most certain way to reach you, in an envelope within an envelope. Our journey from Tresrives has been swift so far, but I will be glad when it is over, although I know that you will still be traveling.

The sky has been mostly clear until this afternoon. I can see heavy clouds to the northeast. They remind me, more strongly than mere dreams, that the warmest rain can turn to ice and ice can imprison the unwary. For as you love me, please remember that in the days ahead …

“… more strongly than mere dreams … the warmest rain…” he murmured. What does she mean by that? Then he nodded. It had to be one of her visions-that was the reference to being stronger than “mere dreams,” and it was something important, because she would not have worded it the way she had. He only hoped he could recognize the situation she described.

“The warmest rain…” he murmured again.

After a time, he continued reading.

… I did so enjoy the last day at Tresrives, and your care and concern. I must also confess, I have worried too much about where we have lived rather than understood how much I need the joy of living with you …

Quaeryt swallowed as he read those words. For Vaelora’s sake … and yours … maybe being relieved as governor was for the best.

Before leaving his quarters for the evening meal, he reread Vaelora’s latest letter and the one she had left in his saddlebag. Then, outside the mess, as officers were hurrying to enter before the glass rang, he met Skarpa, as was getting to be their custom.

“Tomorrow is Solayi, you know,” offered Skarpa, his voice even.

“That would follow,” returned Quaeryt lightly, “since today is Samedi.”

“We don’t have a chorister…”

“You know that one of the reasons I was replaced as governor was that the local chorister complained that I was acting as a chorister and teaching false values in my homilies?”

“I didn’t know, but I can see that some of them might complain. You always preached something of value, rather than empty sayings. The men, and some of the officers, need what you have to say.” Skarpa grinned. “And since you are a subcommander, and I am a commander…”

Quaeryt groaned, semidramatically. “Yes, sir.”

“I thought you’d see it that way.” Skarpa’s grin was even broader.

Quaeryt shook his head, then asked, “Have you thought any more about what the imagers might be able to do to help directly in a battle or skirmish?”

“Could they do anything against archers … keep the shafts from hitting troops?”

“Not now, but if you could lend me a few archers on Lundi, we could see what might be possible.”

“If we’re not under attack by then, you’ll have some archers.”

“One other thing…”

“Yes?”

“There are trees just beyond the north wall. I’d like to see if the imagers could remove them. They shouldn’t be that close to the wall, anyway.”

Skarpa smiled. “If they can do it, have them. It’s one less thing to worry about.”

“Thank you.”

As the bells rang the glass, Skarpa turned toward the mess door. Quaeryt walked beside him, but once inside, Skarpa made his way to the head of the main table, while Quaeryt walked to the small table that had become that of the imagers.

What else can you offer as a homily? That was a question that kept intruding on his thoughts, even as he began to listen to the comments by the imager undercaptains throughout the meal.

“… why don’t the Bovarians attack?”

“… even think they will?”

“… no way that Lord Bhayar would spend all the golds to assemble an army here if there isn’t a threat…”

“Or gather imagers,” suggested Shaelyt.

Several of the undercaptains exchanged glances, but Voltyr was not one of them. Instead, he looked to the youngest undercaptain and gave the slightest of nods.

Are golds always the final reason why rulers act? Or are golds merely one of the ways to measure a ruler’s power? As the conversation drifted to barges and flatboats and whether the Bovarians would use either to send troops against Telaryn, Quaeryt couldn’t help but keep thinking about whether it was a mistake to equate golds with power, especially in the case of the ruler of a land.

Is that why the precepts of the Nameless urge one to pay a ruler what the ruler is due, but no more? Because the power of the Nameless, or any deity, does not rest in golds but in the strength of the deity’s believers? Wouldn’t that also be true of troopers? That the winner is the one with better arms, better training, better strategy, and greater will? Quaeryt smiled wryly. If … and only if … that ruler has enough troops. The best of everything else doesn’t matter if you’re massively outnumbered, assuming, of course, that the enemy has weapons and equipment somewhere near your level.

Still …

Quaeryt nodded. He could do something with the idea that resolving problems required looking at what one truly needed, not merely golds, or what “everyone said.” He also needed to practice imaging better lager.