The man looked at Quaeryt curiously. “That didn’t sound like Telaryn.”
“It wasn’t. It was Pharsi. I have a Khellan battalion under my command, but just one company is with us.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Commander, just how big is your command?”
“Officially, it’s two regiments and the Khellan battalion, but at the moment, one regiment is in Westisle, two companies are in Kephria, another regiment is in Variana, and the rest are here.” Quaeryt shrugged. “Most commanders don’t have such scattered commands, and mine usually isn’t.”
“So … it’s true that Lord Bhayar has conquered Antiago as well as Bovaria,” said the woman. “What next? Khel?”
“He’s requested that Khel consider favorable terms.”
“That’s the sort of request they’d be foolish to reject … assuming the terms are favorable.”
Quaeryt cleared his throat. “Ah … the rain is coming. Would you mind if the major and his men made a quick survey to see what might be the best way of billeting the men?”
The man smiled and shook his head. “We appreciate the politeness. Of course. I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves. I’m Daalyn, and this is Laedica.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Quaeryt inclined his head, then turned to Eslym. “Major, if you would look over the buildings and then let me know your recommendations. I’ll remain here with our hosts.”
“Yes, sir.” Eslym issued several commands, and ten of the rankers followed him as he rode along the lane that circled the dwelling on the north side. Five remained and formed a line behind Quaeryt.
“For Pharsi, they seem rather protective of you.”
“We’ve been through a lot together.” Quaeryt dismounted, then handed the gelding’s reins to the end ranker, and walked up the steps to the porch.
Laedica looked closely at Quaeryt. Her eyes widened. “You’re much younger…”
“Than the white hair? Yes. Every hair on my body turned white at the battle of Variana.” Even as the words left his mouth, Quaeryt wanted to take them back, wishing he’d just said, “Yes, I am.” That just shows you’re tired and off-guard.
“Were you … I mean…” Daalyn fumbled for words.
“If you’re asking if I was in the midst of the battle … yes, I was.”
Laedica’s eyes dropped toward Quaeryt’s hands. This time her mouth opened. “You…” She turned to Daalyn. “He’s the one.”
Quaeryt instinctively checked his shields. “The one what?” he asked mildly.
“Everyone is talking about the unknown officer who called the storms that killed all of Kharst’s troopers,” explained Daalyn. “They said he was a young man with the hair of an ancient, and that he was some sort of son of a Pharsi god…”
Quaeryt shook his head. “I’m the guilty one, but I’m no more the son of a god than either of you. I am an imager. You’d find that out sooner or later.”
“Why did you kill them all?” demanded Daalyn.
“As my wife once told me, once Rex Kharst started this war, tens of thousands of men would be killed. I could not stop that. My only choice was which thousands. Lord Bhayar had almost thirty thousand troopers. Kharst had close to fifty thousand. If I had not done what I did, half of those would likely have perished. Perhaps a third of Kharst’s troopers and two-thirds or more of Bhayar’s. My acts changed which troopers died, not that troopers died.”
“That’s justifying-”
“Daalyn,” said Laedica firmly. “Officers don’t get to choose which orders to obey. Not unless they want to get executed.”
The way she looked at her husband, at least Quaeryt thought he was her husband, reminded him of Vaelora. That firmness hadn’t changed when she’d been pregnant, either. For a moment the thought … and the feelings … of the daughter they had lost rushed over him, as they sometimes did in unguarded moments.
“What is it?” asked Laedica. “You looked so strange, Commander.”
“Thank you,” replied Quaeryt. “Let’s just say it’s been a long day, and a long journey.” He could tell from the expression on her face that she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t pursue it.
Before long, the rest of the companies arrived, and Quaeryt was busy watching, but the officers and squad leaders were quick and effective in settling the men in and making arrangements for some hot food, although by the time the men were largely settled the rain began to fall, first as a drizzle, but within a quint, it pelted down with a steady rhythm that suggested Daalyn had been correct in his assessment. Amid it all, Quaeryt did manage to get his gear up to the bedchamber that Laedica had indicated was his.
The dinner prepared for the officers and their host and hostess, well after dark, given the need to feed the troopers, was quiet, very polite, and short.
Afterward, Quaeryt borrowed the small study to talk with the three imagers. Although he was tired, after a day of riding he didn’t feel like sitting and remained standing.
“How are you three coming with your shields?”
The three exchanged glances.
Quaeryt sighed. “Khalis. Hold the strongest shields that you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quaeryt probed and pressed with his own shields. While he could have broken through, it would have taken a fair effort and would likely have injured Khalis. He released the pressure and nodded. “That’s good. Lhandor, you’re next.”
Lhandor’s shields were strong, if not quite so strong as those of Khalis.
“Now you, Elsior.”
“Sir … I’m not as strong as they are.”
“I know. I’m not interested in hurting you. Now … shields, please.”
For all of Elsior’s protestations, Quaeryt was pleased to find that the youngest imager’s shields were nearly as strong as Lhandor’s. As he released the pressure on Elsior’s defenses, he said, “You’re doing well. I think we can count you as a full undercaptain, not just provisional.”
“Sir … thank you.”
“You’ve earned it … or you will,” replied Quaeryt.
Khalis and Lhandor both nodded.
By the time he was finished with the imagers, Quaeryt was more than tired enough for bed, although he was anything but sleepy. So he made his way out through the front door of the dwelling that was not exactly a hold house, but more than a mere landowner’s mansion, and stood under the roof of the extended front porch in the darkness, looking out into the darkness and the rain.
He could see light from one of the oil lamps in the hall as someone opened the door behind him, and he turned to see Laedica walking toward him, the door left ajar behind her.
She stopped a yard away. “Do you like to listen to the rain?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“You mentioned your wife … and you looked sad. I don’t mean to pry…”
“She’s fine.” Quaeryt debated whether he should say more, then found himself speaking. “I saw you were expecting. She … lost … our daughter … in Kephria…” For a time, Quaeryt could say no more. He shook his head, then finally said, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t…” He shook his head again.
“You haven’t talked about it, have you?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“You’re kind … but I think not.”
“You’re a strange man, Commander. That is obvious. You can kill thousands, but you worry about your men treating a pair of holders you don’t know with care. You obviously love your wife, and mourn the loss of your daughter. You’re not much older than I am, but your hair is white. You limp, and I saw at dinner that several of your fingers don’t work. Yet you paint your nails.”
“You’re very observant.” As many women are. Quaeryt smiled. “I don’t paint my nails, though. They turned white when my hair did.”
Laedica looked intently at Quaeryt and was about to speak when the front door opened wider, and Daalyn emerged.
“Oh … there you are. I wondered where you’d gone.” Daalyn walked toward Laedica, then took her arm, gently.
“I heard the door open and went to see,” replied Laedica. “I found the commander looking at the rain.”