Imager's Battalion by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

eaten several mouthfuls. Then Quaeryt looked to his wife and said, “ We were hungry.”
    “ We were.” Her words and smile warmed him through, if in a different way. “All three of us.”
    “Are you feeling better?”
    “Much. You?”
    He nodded, since he’d taken another mouthful of the omelet. Then he had a swallow of the lager … and more omelet, and bread with berry preserves.
    “I’ve been thinking,” Vaelora said carefully. “Do you remember the story the old Pharsi woman told us in Extela, after you rescued her from the mob?”
    Quaeryt glanced toward the serving woman who stood on the terrace beside the study door.
    “They don’t speak Bovarian well, remember,” murmured Vaelora, “only the common terms spoken slowly.”
    Quaeryt nodded, then replied, “You noticed the old woman. I just followed your suggestion. You really rescued her.”
    “All right. After we rescued her.”
    “I remember. The story was about four Pharsi, three men and a woman. The woman and her distant cousin who was courting her were lost ones. The brothers were seeking easy fortune.”
    “Do you remember the refrain of the young woman?”
    “‘Do not argue over what is not and may never be,’ or something like that.”
    “Dearest … what sort of story was it?”
    “It was a parable. The two brothers kept finding things and wanting more and arguing over what they’d found until they lost everything because of their quarrels.” Quaeryt grinned. “The only one with any sense was the woman.”
    “Not quite. The cousin who was a lost one and, according to the old woman, looked like you, also had some sense.” She smiled sweetly. “He had enough sense to listen to her.”
    “Your point is taken, dear.”
    “Why did she tell the story to us?”
    “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve wondered about that.”
    “She made a point of telling us. Not anyone else. I don’t think it was to please us or to entertain us.”
    “No. It was to warn us. That was clear enough. We are young and carry Pharsi blood. She saw we had some power and position, and she wanted to warn us about wanting what we could never have.”
    Vaelora nodded. “How did she know that? She’d never seen us before.”
    “You’re suggesting…?” Farsight?
    “I don’t know. It’s just … it’s bothered me on and off ever since.”
    “Why did you bring that up now?”
    “In a way … in a way, you need to look at the ice storm like that. You’ve said that no matter what you did, thousands would die. You had no choice about whether troopers died. Your only choice was which thousands died.”
    “If I could have found another way…” Like you did with Rescalyn.
    “The only choice we have is to do the best we can when we can. You’re thinking about Rescalyn, aren’t you?”
    “How did you know?”
    “How could I not know? You’ve talked about it before. It’s bothered you as well, but by killing him in a way that made him a hero, you stopped a bloody revolt that would have slaughtered more thousands than you did at Ferravyl. Don’t you think that if Rescalyn had provoked a rebellion, whether he had been successful or not, it would have weakened Telaryn? That Kharst would have attacked even sooner? Then, how many more thousands would have perished?”
    Quaeryt did not answer that. He knew the answer, and so did she. “Still … it doesn’t help that I’ve had to act as a chorister of the Nameless, giving homilies about virtue … mercy … and then…”
    “You acted in accord with what you said, dearest.”
    “That doesn’t help as much as I’d like.”
    She let the silence grow for a moment, then repeated, “‘Do not argue over what is not and may never be.’ That includes arguing with yourself, dearest.”
    “It’s hard not to think about the consequences when you’re the one who causes the deaths of so many.”
    “Kharst decided to attack. His actions determined that thousands would die. Your actions merely