“Elsior?”
“I would not disagree…”
“But you have a suggestion?”
“Yes, sir. If we can image retaining walls away from the piers on each side, no more than three yards up from the base of the pier, that would channel the stream away from the back of the piers. The stream is not much higher than the river now. It can’t dig down that much farther.”
Quaeryt held back a smile. “Go to it. If you want me to image part of it, I will, but you have to describe what you want done. Since it’s your idea, Lhandor, you’re in charge.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt watched as the three dismounted and then walked just a few steps onto the bridge to study the gorge. They conversed quietly before Lhandor stepped close to the edge of the gorge and focused on the far side. At the base of the gorge on the far side, a trench appeared, at the bottom of which Quaeryt could see stone-before it was covered with stream water.
All in all, the imaging of a new stone bridge, wide enough for two wagons, if barely, took almost two glasses-and Quaeryt ended up imaging the retaining walls proposed by Elsior, as well as the last sections of the approach causeway.
The three undercaptains crossed the new span first, followed by Quaeryt and Zhelan, and then first company.
Halfway across, Zhelan turned to Quaeryt. “You could have done that yourself, could you not?”
“I could have created something, but what they did is a better bridge, and they need the experience of thinking it out and then doing it. I’ve done more in battle because too much was at stake. Now is the time for them to do all they can.” Quaeryt laughed softly. “I won’t always be around them, and I certainly won’t be here forever.”
“You’re young as commanders go, sir.”
“That may be, but things can happen to young commanders as well. The greater the experience they have, the more likely the Collegium is to be successful.” And a permanent part of Bhayar’s Solidar to come. After a moment Quaeryt added, You hope.
The bluff road stretched ahead for what looked to be another mille before it looked to slope downward toward a level closer to that of the River Aluse.
More mud and problems, thought Quaeryt. But he did not voice those words.
35
By midday on the following Solayi, Quaeryt and his two companies had just passed through a small hamlet some 150 milles north of Variana … or so he judged from the maps and his own calculations. He had used the imagers, as well as his own talents, to repair and strengthen a handful of bridges, although none had required the amount of imaging necessary just north of Caanara, and in one place, to fill and pave a section of the river road where it had descended into what would be a morass with the slightest amount of rain. Along the way, they had passed two older ruins of what might have once been high holdings, one of which appeared to have been abandoned and dismantled in an orderly fashion, with only the foundations remaining. The other had been burned, but not recently
When Quaeryt had inquired about local High Holders, he’d discovered that there were several in the areas where he asked, but all at least ten milles from the River Aluse. That didn’t exactly surprise him, and he continued to be appalled at the state of what was the major road north from the capital. And, according to the maps he had and what he’d asked of the locals, no one knew of any better roads.
The weather continued hot and damp, and Quaeryt was continually drenched with sweat. He had decided to alternate the lead companies, but keep the imagers with him, as well as ride for a time with each imager. On Solayi, Elsior was riding beside Quaeryt for the first time, with Calkoran and the two imager undercaptains immediately behind.
“Where were you from?”
“Navarou … it’s a fishing village on the coast south of Westisle, sir.” The slender dark-haired youth sounded almost apologetic.
“Your family is Pharsi?”
“My mother is.”
“Are there many other Pharsi in Navarou?”
“No, sir. She washed up on the beach after a storm. She was clinging to some timbers.”
“Where was she from?”
“She would never speak of what happened or where she was from, sir. All she said was that the past was a closed book, and that only the hand of Erion would ever open it.” Elsior smiled. “She never expected I’d run into one.”
“Beware of names placed on you by other people.” Quaeryt shook his head. “Tell me about you and her, if you would.”
“She was a seamstress, and a fine one. Folks come from towns along the coast for her to sew their fine garments, for weddings and the like. We had a little cot at the base of the hills. There was enough to eat, for the two of us, anyway.”
“Did your mother ever speak of your father … or was that part of the closed book?” Quaeryt tried to keep his voice light.
“No, sir … excepting she did once say that his station was naught to be ashamed of. I was born soon after she washed up.”
“I’m assuming that when your mother said something was closed, it was closed. Did she have the farsight?”
Elsior tilted his head, as if considering, although Quaeryt couldn’t tell whether he was considering whether his mother did or whether he should say anything. Finally, he said, “She never said she’d seen something that would happen, but there were times when she should have been surprised and she wasn’t.”
“What about you?”
Elsior shook his head. “If anyone needed farsight…”
“How did you end up as an imager for the Autarch?”
“What else would I do after she died?”
“Oh … I didn’t realize…”
“Folks didn’t say much so long as she was there, because there wasn’t anyone who could sew like she could, but they always looked away from me.”
“Did you image a few extra coppers for her?”
Elsior grinned. “Of course. Not too many, and I gave them all to her. She knew, but she said that so long as I never had coppers no one would think about my being an imager. If she had a few more coppers, who would know?”
“Did you have trouble being accepted as an imager by the Autarch?”
“It wasn’t easy. Before you’re apprenticed to a master, you do anything wrong, and you could be blinded.”
“How long…”
“I was lucky. Only a year after they took me in.”
Elsior’s tone conveyed anything but luck, but Quaeryt didn’t pursue that. Instead, he asked, “What do you think about Imagisle and the Collegium?”
“You are right, sir. Imagers do need a place where they’re not special and not feared. I think that living in Navarou would have been hard as I grew older. Even the imagers’ quarters in Liantiago were better than what most of the others went through before they became imagers for the Autarch.”
“Do you have any suggestions as to what might make Imagisle better?”
“Good beds and a library! Khalis has been working with me to improve my reading and writing so that I can write Bovarian as well as I can write Pharsi.”
“Why do you think a library is important?”
“Because my mother said it was. She taught me Pharsi, but she didn’t speak Bovarian that well.”
“She must have been from Khel, then.”
“She never said.”
“You said that, but it makes sense. Navarou is south across the Gulf from Khel. If she were shipwrecked coming out of Kherseilles or Pointe Neiman … or even coming from the ports on the west of Lydar…”
Elsior nodded.
Quaeryt couldn’t help but wonder just what lay behind the covers of the closed book that had been the past of Elsior’s mother, just as he’d wondered the same about his own parents when he’d been as young as Elsior. But there was little point in pursuing that. Instead, he asked, “How are you coming with your shields?”
The young imager smiled happily. “Khalis says that mine are almost as good as his. Well … if I keep them close to me. I can’t extend mine as far as he can. Mine aren’t nearly as strong as yours.”