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one…” He shook his head, then asked quickly, “What else? Did you understand what the Khellan officers were saying?”
    “Mostly. They speak a little differently from the way we do at home. They’ll do what you say, sir. Some of them think you’re a lost one. Some of the younger ones think … well … that you’re not.”
    “They think I’m a fraud, and that Bhayar’s having me pretend to be something I’m not?”
    “Something like that.”
    Quaeryt nodded. If you show you’re not, you’ll likely reveal for certain that you’re an imager, and if you don’t … Once again, no matter what he did, there were negative consequences. Then he laughed, softly, but ironically. “I don’t pretend well or convincingly, Undercaptain.” Misdirect fairly well, yes, but out and out pretending isn’t exactly your strength.
    This time Shaelyt nodded. “If you’ll pardon me, sir. They worry that you are less than you seem. I can see that you are more than you wish anyone to know.”
    “Time will show whether you’re right, Shaelyt. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that thought to yourself.”
    “Yes, sir.” Shaelyt’s response was warm and cheerful. “I’d thought to, sir.”
    “Do you have any other thoughts or questions?”
    “No, sir. Not now.”
    “Then you may go. Send in Voltyr, please.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Almost as soon as Shaelyt had stepped out through the storeroom door, Voltyr entered quickly, closed the door behind himself, and looked directly at Quaeryt. “You’re an imager … sir. Isn’t that what being a lost one means?”
    Quaeryt shook his head. “Being a lost one means being favored of Erion and also being slightly physically flawed. Blond Pharsi with dark eyes are considered as possible lost ones. I look like a lost one, and I limp like one. Being an imager would be a possible mark of favor, but it’s not the only mark.” Not that anyone ever let you know what any of the marks of favor are.
    “You didn’t answer my question, sir.”
    “You didn’t ask one, Undercaptain. Do you really want an answer? If I don’t answer, you won’t have to lie.”
    “Why should I…?” Abruptly Voltyr broke off his words. “I think I understand.”
    “The less anyone knows about what you undercaptains—and I—can do, the greater the advantage we possess. I was telling you the absolute truth about my goals when I said I wanted to make Telaryn—and all Lydar, if it comes to that—safe for both scholars and imagers. A secret shared between two people can usually be kept. One between three usually can’t. Shaelyt suspects. He may even know. We have not discussed that. I’d ask you not to discuss whatever you believe me able to do. You can certainly speculate about what the rest of you can do. You can even suggest, if pressed, that there might be something about an obdurate multiplying the effect of imaging.” Quaeryt smiled ruefully. “Is that acceptable?”
    “Even being married to Lord Bhayar’s sister, sir, you tread a dangerous path.”
    “No more dangerous than yours. Mine is just different.”
    Voltyr nodded. “Given all you risk, you have my word, sir.”
    “Thank you. Do you have any other questions or observations?”
    “Only that you should never trust Threkhyl, however useful he may be.”
    “I’ve worried about him.”
    “I would keep worrying.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Nothing else that cannot be discussed before all the officers.”
    “Then … if you would send in Desyrk.”
    “That I will.” Voltyr smiled, almost sympathetically, and turned.
    As Quaeryt waited for Desyrk to come in, he just hoped that he didn’t have to deal with too many more questions and that he could get on with more imager training, including getting them more practice with sabres, as well as having Meinyt or one of the other officers give them some instruction in mounted unit maneuvers … and if and when that took place, he’d be there as well.

 
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