“Quaeryt…” Vaelora’s voice was cool.
“Yes?”
“There are no burn marks left on the stone. There are no cracks or chips. The center section of the pier no longer sags.”
“I had the pier repaired,” he said blandly.
“That’s why you look so tired. Just how much imaging did you do?”
“All of it,” he admitted. “It took much of the morning. I did it a section at a time. It took almost three glasses.” He held up a hand. “The other imagers are needed to rebuild the trooper compound. I could do this alone. Besides, I need to rebuild my own imaging strength.”
“And you want me to rest?”
“It’s different.” I didn’t get hit with a tree and lose a child and nearly get burned alive by Antiagon Fire.
“I may use those words myself … sometime.”
Quaeryt kept his wince inside himself. “Shall we walk out the pier?”
“So I can admire your image-crafting and might?”
“No … so that you can regain your strength in order to tell me where I should take care.” He offered the words lightly and with a smile.
Vaelora shook her head.
As they walked, Quaeryt again studied the harbor, empty of all vessels except the three-masted schooner that had brought him, the imager undercaptains, and first company back to Kephria. The waters of the Gulf of Khellor lapped placidly at the stone pillars of the rebuilt pier, the sole remaining one, which had survived the efforts of the Antiagon imagers that had destroyed the others only because it had been built of stone generations earlier. The stone boulevard that circled the harbor also remained, but the only trace of the buildings that had stood there less than a month before were rain-flattened ashes and occasional piles of brick or stone, the remnants of chimneys or the infrequent brick or stone-walled shop. Even after the rain of the previous day, the smell of charred wood remained strong.
“It’s quiet now,” said Vaelora.
“It will be for a time, but it’s too good a port not to be rebuilt. It won’t ever rival Solis or Liantiago, or even Kherseilles, but it will serve the south of Bovaria and the north of Antiago.” Quaeryt glanced ahead to the end of the pier where the Zephyr was tied up.
As Vaelora and Quaeryt neared the schooner, Sario, standing by the gangway, inclined his head to Vaelora. “Lady.” Then he turned his eyes to Quaeryt and raised his eyebrows.
“With some fortune, Captain,” replied Quaeryt to the unspoken question, “as I said earlier, you should be on your way back to Liantiago within the week. I’ll also suggest some additional recompense from Submarshal Skarpa.” Seeing as he has all the paychests, except for the small one he sent with us.
“That would be appreciated.” The dark-haired captain replied in heavily accented Antiagon Bovarian. “Will you have troopers remaining here?”
“We will leave some forces here to keep order while others rebuild, and the remainder of our forces will return to Variana to report to Lord Bhayar … and to see where else we may be needed.”
“You will always be needed, Commander.” Sario inclined his head. “We await your orders.”
Vaelora and Quaeryt turned back toward the fort.
When they reached the foot of the pier, Vaelora looked to her husband. “You need to talk to your officers … if we’re to leave on Jeudi. You can’t do any more here.”
“More likely Samedi or Solayi,” replied Quaeryt. “The one thing Bhayar would not forgive would be more injury to you.” He may not forgive me for what you have already suffered. He did not tell Vaelora that he had already summoned Khaern, Zhelan, and Calkoran to meet with him at the third glass of the afternoon.
“Although,” Vaelora added with a smile, “I’d be surprised if you had not already arranged to meet them this afternoon.”
“I did indeed, and how did you know that?”
“I know you, dearest.”
Quaeryt escorted her into the old fort, past the pair of troopers standing guard duty, and into the makeshift quarters area.
Vaelora sat down on the bed. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
“At your command, my lady.” Quaeryt grinned at her.
“Don’t be impossible, dearest, or I’ll read more about Rholan and quote long passages to you when you return.”
“There are worse fates,” he quipped.
“Do you want me to find one?”
With another grin, Quaeryt shook his head.
Vaelora gave a soft laugh.
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I won’t be too long.”
“Take the time you need.”
“I will.” He turned and made his way out of the fort and along the stone walk to the stone boulevard that bordered the eastern end of the harbor. As he walked north, he hoped that Vaelora was indeed as strong as she said, although he had to admit that her steps had shown no weakness on the walk up the long pier and back. And she rode the entire distance from Ferravyl to Variana to save you, hardly pausing even for rest.
Still … he worried. And that wasn’t even accounting for the difficulties they were likely to encounter on the ride back across a still-restive Bovaria.
The three officers were waiting outside the structure that had once been a small stone blockhouse at the base of where the wall along the south side of the harbor had joined the wall that had once defined the border between Bovaria and Antiago. Now, it was a much larger building, thanks to the four imager undercaptains.
“Sir,” offered Zhelan.
Both Khaern and Calkoran inclined their heads.
“Once the Lady Vaelora is recovered enough to ride, as I suggested yesterday, we will be returning to Variana to report on the results of the mission to Khel and the conquest of Antiago. I’d like each of you to prepare for departure later this week, possibly as early as Vendrei.” Quaeryt paused, wondering if he should mention again that Calkoran and his company would be accompanying them, while Arion and Zhael and their companies would remain to keep order in Kephria. They already know. Don’t repeat yourself.
Quaeryt turned to Zhelan. “Are there any troopers in first company that should remain here?”
“No, sir. Those with broken arms and legs can accompany us, and there are none injured more seriously.”
“What about mounts? Have you found enough between those Calkoran returned with from Khel and the locals?”
“We’ve obtained some spare mounts locally, and we have enough. We’ve also acquired some packhorses as well, and two wagons. We thought those might be needed.” Zhelan did not smile.
Quaeryt did see a hint of amusement in the major’s eyes, but he more than appreciated Zhelan’s continual forethought. “Your thoughts were correct, and I appreciate your efforts.” He looked at Khaern. “Eleventh Regiment?”
“We’re prepared to leave at a day’s notice, sir.”
“Good. Is there anything I should know?”
“None of the holders whose holds you destroyed have returned, but … what if they do?”
“That’s something that Major Zhael and Major Arion will have to deal with, one way or another. They won’t have that many armsmen. The reports the submarshal sent with me indicated that a number of them lost men at Liantiago, and two of the former High Holders likely were killed at Barna. Apparently, Aliaro wanted to use them there, and spare his own troops.”
“Even were they not,” declared Calkoran, “my officers can handle them.”
Quaeryt suspected that was not likely even to be a question. “Subcommanders … you can go and inform your men. I need some time to go over some first company matters with Major Zhelan.”
“Yes, sir.”
In moments, Zhelan and Quaeryt were alone outside the building that would be the trooper headquarters in Kephria.
“Do you intend to send a dispatch rider or courier before us?” asked Zhelan.
“I had not thought to,” replied Quaeryt. “What are your thoughts on that?”
“What you and Submarshal Skarpa have accomplished might best be reported directly. That way there would be no misunderstanding. There would also be no plans based on information that might not be…”