Imager’s Battalion Read Online Free

serving woman placed on his platter, he thought about the days ahead with hard rations, or worse. He smiled wryly.
    “What are you finding so amusing?” Vaelora’s tone was openly curious.
    “How life changes. A year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of having so much good food, when even decent meals strained my purse, and there were times when regimental rations would have seemed a luxury. Now…” He shrugged.
    “Dearest … it comes with a price. Have you not noticed? Did not our stay in Extela…?”
    He nodded. “Part of that price was because I chose accomplishment over popularity when I had not time to achieve both.”
    “Dearest … there is always that choice.”
    Quaeryt smiled. “Not if the one who seeks accomplishment is not the one who needs popularity … or one to whom little attention is paid. We talked of this before. Perhaps as a mere subcommander…”
    “Even that is dangerous…”
    “Perhaps,” Quaeryt replied, “but my idea of costs and prices may not be what you have in mind. What are yours?”
    “Little more than a year ago, you could have walked away from danger, or handled it quietly, with no one being the wiser. In fact, I’d wager you did. Can you do that now? A year ago, the only one whom you hazarded by your acts was you. Now … tell me what might have happened had you failed in the warm rain.”
    “I would have died,” he replied dryly, “but that wasn’t what you meant. Thousands of troopers would have died as well.”
    “And…?”
    “Your point is taken, dearest.” Of course, Quaeryt had known what she meant. He still didn’t like thinking about matters in those terms.
    “You don’t like admitting that you have hostages to fortune. You also do not wish to admit that your sense of responsibility makes you a captive of others and of fate.” Vaelora sipped her hot tea.
    “Does any man with any sense wish to admit that?” Quaeryt lifted a beaker of lager and took a swallow. In the summer, at least in the hot midlands, tea was too warm for him even at breakfast, even when breakfast was early, not that this morning it was anywhere close to early.
    “There is a difference between admitting it publicly and admitting it to one’s self.”
    “You’re all too right, dear, but there are those who publicly profess to have hostages to fortune, and who in the end act as if those hostages have no worth to them at all. More than a few rulers—or those who wish to rule—have been such.”
    “Are you saying Bhayar is?” Vaelora raised her eyebrows.
    “I suspect he is of the other type, who denies that those who are close to him have any value, while quietly valuing them.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Think upon our marriage. Ostensibly, he punished you for your apparent willfulness by marrying you to someone beneath your station. Yet…” Quaeryt shrugged.
    “Yet what, dearest?”
    Quaeryt grinned and ignored the slight edge in her voice. “He did not go against your wishes and marry you to someone you could not stand.”
    “There are times,” she responded, her voice holding a hint of playfulness.
    Quaeryt was about to respond when he heard bootsteps. He waited.
    “Sir … there’s a Commander Skarpa who just arrived from Ferravyl to see you…” offered one of the rankers from the door to the breakfast room.
    “Escort him to the study. I’ll meet him there.”
    “Do you think…?” asked Vaelora.
    “I don’t think so. I’d judge he wants to see me before I return to talk over how he’d like us to work together.” Quaeryt stood and smiled wryly. “But you never know.”
    He reached the center hall at the same time as did Skarpa. The ranker escorting the senior officer stepped back in deference to Quaeryt. The commander had obviously worn an oilcloth waterproof, since his uniform shirt and tunic were dry, while his trousers beneath the knees were wet.
    “I hope the ride wasn’t too difficult,” offered Quaeryt, gesturing down a corridor made