Sarrefo gave a reasonably accurate version of what happened without Quint’s killing the officer. Quint never mentioned it and so far, it hadn’t been mentioned.
“We’ve all wondered what the wizard corps will do with our Level 3 servant, who used a powerfully cast string on the enemy. Corporal Tirolo will be no more. Our colleague has just been promoted to lieutenant in the Wizard Corps. He will be reporting to me as a strategist.”
Amaria stood. “How can you do such a thing? A strategist? When has he even read a book?”
“Field Marshal Chiglio is adamant that he and Tirolo discussed strategy while Tirolo briefed the field marshal on his action. Can any of us claim to have done anything like that?”
“I’m talking to my father!” Amaria said.
“He signed the commission, Lieutenant Baltacco.” Sarrefo walked to his desk and showed Amaria the commission.
“How could he do that?” she said, almost to herself.
“With a pen, lieutenant,” Sarrefo said.
When the meeting was over, the colonel had Quint stay.
“I am very impressed. It isn’t easy to crack through the field marshal,” Sarrefo said. “I received a personal letter from him that claimed you told him that the army was using stale tactics.”
Quint sighed. “I told the field marshal that I didn’t see any creativity. Our wizard corps fought their wizard corps. Why would you fight like that? Where is the surprise? I’ve read enough strategy to know that predictability leads to defeat. The Barellians weren’t any better other than their foray into the supply wagons, which was countered by chance. I was in their path because I had gone to get some sun.”
Sarrefo laughed. “I can believe it. I’m assigning you to one of our planning groups. Amaria Baltacco won’t be a member of that group. She has something against you.”
“I’m a hubite, and she has made it clear she detests us,” Quint said.
Sarrefo shook his head. “There is more to it than that. Stay clear of her. You won’t be attending my meetings until she settles down. We do show some creativity in what we submit to headquarters, and now you’ll get a chance to see it and add a little of your own. You no longer have to sneak into the brigade library. Officers have access, Lieutenant.” Sarrefo said with a smile.
“Thank you, sir. I didn’t expect any of this.”
“You will receive pay commensurate with your rank and level, but you’ll have to find accommodation outside headquarters. See my assistant. She will have some ideas of where you can move. You have until the end of the month to get situated, and I’ll send more specific orders to your current supervisor. You are dismissed.”
Quint saluted and staggered out of the room. The colonel’s assistant wasn’t at her desk, so Quint descended to the basement almost in a daze. He was a lieutenant. How could that be? After all the abuse he’d been taking, it didn’t feel real.
Even with the Level 3 bonus, a lieutenant's pay wasn’t a vast sum. Sarrefo’s assistant knew of a four-bedroom flat that had a vacant bedroom. The current occupants were lieutenants and senior lieutenants in the Strategic Operations division.
His new flatmates were willots, but they had agreed to let Quint room with them, even after the assistant made doubly sure Quint would be welcome.
Quint found out that he had replaced the casualty from the battle. Hero for hero, one of the three occupants had said when Quint moved in.
The room was three times larger than the closet he was given in the basement of Strategic Operations. If nothing else, Quint had a larger space to hide. The flat was on the third floor and had a balcony with four chairs with exposure to the morning sun.
Quint bought a bookcase the room lacked and was ready to start life in his new role.
“We eat cold breakfasts and lunch at division headquarters, and none of us cook, so we eat out for dinner or have it cooked here. The closest market is a few blocks away for a quick meal,” one of the flatmates said. “What will the old man have you work on?”
The other two gathered around Quint. He hoped they weren’t going to begin pummeling him with their fists.
“I’ll be a strategist reporting to the Colonel and working in a group. I’m afraid I don’t even know what the group does.”
“Battle planning. I heard you dressed down the field marshal for being too predictable.”
Quint sighed. “I didn’t dress him down. I pointed out that the strategy employed in the battle was stale. It was easy to see that the battle wouldn’t accomplish anything if the forces were evenly matched, which they were.”
“If you were with the wagons, how did you see the battle? Did you climb up a tree?”
Quint closed his eyes and realized he’d have to tell. “I cast a portent string. The battle played out in front of me, standing at the edge of the battlefield.”
“Portent!” the youngest lieutenant, except for Quint, said. “That’s a challenge even for a Level 3.”
“I hadn’t used the spell like that before,” Quint said. “The flaws were easy to see, and as it happened, the vision was pretty much how it happened. Field Marshal Chiglio described parts of the battle, and I would finish with the result. He believed me. Where do you serve?” Quint wanted the subject changed.
“Two of us are in the operations part. We manage logistics. You were guarding the wagons, although we didn’t call for a guard.”
“Someone did,” Quint said, “and I would have done nothing if the Barellians hadn’t thought to attack the supply wagons.”
Quint looked at his peers, for they really were peers now and didn’t see the animosity that usually blossomed when Quint showed up anywhere.
“I’m in one of the five strategic groups,” one of them said. “I doubt you’ll be working with me. Amaria Baltacco is in my group. She has made it plain you aren’t her favorite colleague,” the lone senior lieutenant said. “We have learned to watch what we say. Too many comments have made it all the way to headquarters if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” Quint said. “Are there any rules I need to follow in the flat?”
“Don’t go into any of the bedrooms unless invited. There is little enough privacy in the sitting room and kitchen. The washroom is first come - first served. We have a housekeeper to minimize the womanly duties of keeping a residence.”
Quint pursed his lips, his cheeks getting a little warm. “I am unfamiliar with what womanly duties you have mentioned.”
“Oh,” the senior lieutenant said, grinning, “Not those kinds of womanly duties. Cooking, mending, and washing clothes is what I meant. Marena generally cooks our dinner twice weekly unless we tell her otherwise.”
