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larger groups. Have you been practicing your imaging?”
    “Yes, sir.” After another pause the undercaptain added, “I never knew I could do some things.”
    “Such as?”
    “I built a stone tower, all neat like, like the one in Piedryn, in the square. Except mine was only three yards high.” He laughed. “It’s still there, on this side of the bridge, by the approach.”
    That answered one question.
    “I offered to help the masons on the bridge, but the engineering major … I don’t think he trusted me. I did image some cut stones for the side walls, and they used those. Had a bit of a headache when I finished on Meredi, but I didn’t have as much trouble yesterday.”
    “Good.” While Quaeryt was pleased, he hoped the other imagers had worked at improving their skills as well. He still didn’t want to have to rely on just a few, especially if one of the few happened to be Threkhyl.
    “Sir … there is one thing…”
    “Yes?”
    “I don’t like having to listen to that Undercaptain Ghaelyn. He used to be a squad leader.”
    Quaeryt repressed a sigh. “He won’t be giving you many commands. If he does, listen to him. He’ll only be doing it to save your skin. He knows far more than you do about staying alive in a fight. That’s especially true if you’re where you can’t image.”
    “I’ll listen, sir.”
    Quaeryt again could guess the unspoken words— but I don’t have to like it.
    “Good. You might also start asking why various orders and formations are used.”
    Threkhyl frowned.
    “It could just happen that you might end up in charge of a squad if the squad leader is hurt. The more you know, the better.”
    Threkhyl looked as if he hadn’t even considered that.
    “That sort of thing was what got me into being a command officer,” explained Quaeryt. “During the Tilboran Revolt.”
    “I don’t know that I’d planned to lead troops, sir.”
    “There are many things we don’t plan for. With some fortune, you won’t have to, but it’s better to be prepared for … everything that you can.” Quaeryt had almost said, “prepared for the worst.” He smiled. “If you’d send in Shaelyt…”
    “Oh … yes, sir.”
    As Threkhyl left, Quaeryt considered. The ginger-bearded imager was acting more like an undercaptain, but Quaeryt still wondered how far he could trust the man.
    Shaelyt arrived, stiffened, and said, “Good morning, sir.”
    “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
    “Very well, sir. I’ve been accompanying Major Zhelan and watching him conduct training and maneuvers. Well … Voltyr came with me.” Shaelyt flushed slightly. “Actually, it was his idea.”
    “His idea or not, you were wise to follow it.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Shaelyt looked down for a moment, then back at Quaeryt. “Sir … begging your pardon, but I have been practicing imaging ever since I recovered—”
    “I suspect you’re much, much better, are you not?” interjected Quaeryt smoothly.
    “Yes, sir. I can create holes even in iron plate at over a hundred yards. That’s if I don’t have to do it over water, and I can image a handful of arrows out of the sky.”
    “That’s excellent!” Quaeryt didn’t have to counterfeit the enthusiasm in his voice.
    “But … begging your pardon, sir, even working together, Voltyr and I couldn’t create a bridge. The best we could do was a piece of stone wall maybe four yards long and two yards high. Neither one of us could see much for a day. Our heads split for two.”
    “That might well be because you weren’t facing eight regiments of Bovarians. That sort of threat can concentrate your effort more than one might realize. You also weren’t doing it with others.”
    “Sir…” Shaelyt looked down. “It’s said that some of the lost ones … well … they looked like you.”
    “I’ve been called a lost one by more than one Pharsi,” Quaeryt admitted. “It’s pretty clear that I’m from Pharsi blood, but as for being a lost