Alector's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I can see your concerns, Captain, but people must learn that the Code is the Code, and that the laws are the laws, and position does not excuse breaking those laws.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you wish me to take Fifteenth Company to her estate and convey a warning to her?”

  “Do you even know where this estate is, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. As I told you, I verified its location and her name. She is the eldest daughter of the landholder, a man named Ubarjyr. The estate is some thirteen vingts north of the center of Enstyla, and two vingts west.”

  “Then perhaps we should make a call on this Ubarjyr, although it well may be too late, given the fashion in which it has been handled.”

  Mykel merely nodded, although he had few doubts that handling it in the manner suggested by Majer Vaclyn would have been worse than the way in which he had handled it.

  In less than a quarter glass, the troopers of Fifteenth Company—and those in the squad from Thirteenth Company that had accompanied the majer—were riding northward through a cool and breezy morning.

  The majer did not offer any information or conversation for the first five vingts.

  “Could you tell me how matters are faring with the other companies?” asked Mykel, after the long silence.

  “Seventeenth Company is patrolling the area on each side of the road to the mine. They have apprehended two escaped prisoners.”

  “And the others… ?” prompted Mykel politely.

  “Sixteenth Company has been patrolling the east-west road to the south of here. They have so far been unable to apprehend anyone or anything. Thirteenth Company has been providing security at Eltorana. Fourteenth Company has been patrolling the highlands to the north and west of the mine. They have encountered resistance and have taken some fire. They have killed several of the insurgents, but have not yet taken any prisoners to obtain information.”

  “Would you judge that the majority of the insurgents are in the area being covered by Fourteenth Company?”

  “That remains to be seen, Captain. It is clear that Fourteenth Company has been most successful so far.”

  If getting shot at was a measure of success, Mykel wasn’t so certain he wanted that kind of success. The majer was not about to offer more information, not without Mykel’s prodding, and that prodding would just upset Vaclyn more. So he rode quietly beside the majer.

  They continued northward to the lane to the estate and westward on it until they came to a pair of elaborately carved wooden gates blocking the lane. There were two small raised guardhouses, set on heavy timbered bases in back of and overlooking the closed gates. A timber stockade extended roughly fifty yards on each side of the gates. The one on the right side ended at a pile of boulders that filled the gap between the stockade and a rocky hillside rising thirty some yards above the lane. On the left the stockade ended partway down a gully filled with brush olives.

  “You!” the majer snapped at the man in the left guardhouse. “Open those gates!”

  “Sir, these are the lands of Seltyr Ubarjyr. We do not admit anyone he has not invited.”

  “We are here on the orders of the High Alector of Justice. Open the gates.”

  “I do not know this High Alector of Justice. I know that you have not been invited.”

  “Ready rifles!” ordered Vaclyn.

  “Ready rifles!” Mykel repeated.

  More than one hundred rifles appeared in the hands of the troopers.

  “We are not anyone^ snapped the majer. ”I am Majer Vaclyn, and we are here under the express orders of the Marshal of Myrmidons and the High Alector of Justice. If you don’t open those gates by the time I finish speaking, you three will be very dead guards.“

  The three guards at the closed gates looked at the line of mounted riflemen.

  One of them murmured, “… dead men, either way.”

  “Open the gates!” ordered the taller guard.

  After several moments, the gates creaked open, revealing a stone-paved if narrow lane heading due south beyond the gates. Some fifty yards beyond the gates, the lane was bordered by trees, which provided an arching cover of foliage. In the distance, upon a low hill, Mykel saw an extensive villa, with brilliant blue tile roofing.

  “Third squad, Thirteenth Company!” ordered the majer, “hold here and keep the gates open!”

  “Yes, sir! Holding here.”

  “Forward!” called Vaclyn.

  Fifteenth Company, forward!“ Mykel repeated.

  As they neared the house, they passed a long and low stable. Mykel noted that several stableboys who scurried back into the stable had been oiling the wood of a horse cart— the one used by Rachyla or an exact duplicate.

  Ahead was the villa, surrounded by a sandstone wall slightly more than two yards high, with the only entrance an opening marked by two sandstone pillars, on which were hung a set of decorative iron gates, drawn open. Beyond the gates was a paved entry courtyard, with a circular fountain set directly between the gates and the roofed portico that stood at the top of the wide stone steps. Behind the portico was a covered walkway leading to the villa itself.

  A darker-skinned man in washed-out blue trousers and shirt appeared at the top of the sandstone steps. His eyes darted from side to side as he looked at the two officers and the company drawn up in the outer part of the courtyard.

  “You can announce us, Captain.”

  “Majer Vaclyn, Captain Mykel, here to see Ubarjyr and Rachyla,” Mykel told the man.

  “Ah… they are not here.”

  Mykel smiled politely, and directed his rifle—one-handed—in the general direction of the man. “That’s not true. I happened to see Rachyla’s cart outside the stable, and it was being cleaned and oiled.”

  “I meant that Seltyr Ubarjyr was not here, sir.”

  “Then we will begin by seeing Rachyla until the good seltyr returns,” replied Mykel.

  “I cannot… make her appear… officers…”

  “She has a choice,” Mykel said reasonably. “She can invite us in, or we can invite ourselves in with our rifles.”

  Suddenly, the dark-haired Rachyla appeared under the portico. Although she stood in the shade, to Mykel, she seemed almost luminous. “What are you officers doing here?”

  “We came to see you and the seltyr,” Mykel replied. ‘To talk over a few things.“

  “I cannot imagine what such matters might be,” the woman replied. “We have nothing of interest to you.”

  Mykel could sense the untruth, yet she did not exactly reek of duplicity. She had stated something that was not true, yet projected her words with utter conviction. He wanted to smile at her effrontery. “You have a great deal of interest to us, especially after your trip south on the road to Enstyla yesterday.”

  “You must be mistaken, officers,” Rachyla replied. “I never left the estate yesterday.” Her smile was guileless.

  Mykel sensed her satisfaction in confronting them. She was up to something. What?

  Abruptly, he turned in the saddle. “Bhoral! Take fourth and fifth squads! Surround the stables. Rifles ready! Return any fire you receive!”

  “Fourth squad!”

  “Fifth squad…”

  “What—” began the majer.

  “She’s stalling us,” Mykel said in a low voice. “The only reason for that is to allow her sire to escape or to bring in reinforcements.” He rode forward, practically to the base of the steps, his eyes surveying the pillars and the wall behind them.

  For the first time, Rachyla looked uncertain.

  Mykel vaulted out of the saddle, rifle in hand, and went up the stone steps two at a time.

  Crack.‘ Crack!

  He was less than a yard from Rachyla when the first shots echoed from beyond the courtyard wall.

  “All squads, fire at will!” he ordered.

  The next shot went past his ear, just as he grabbed the woman’s forearm and pulled her behind one of the pillars—away from the line of fire from the eastern side of t
he portico.

  “Shoot to kill!” yelled the majer.

  “Let me go!” demanded Rachyla, aiming a kick at his groin.

  Mykel took her boot on his outer thigh, then grabbed the boot and yanked, dropping her on the stone—hard. For the moment that she was stunned, he brought the rifle up and turned, firing instinctively in the direction from which he had been attacked, willing his shots to strike.

  Men in green, carrying Cadmian rifles, appeared at the top of the walls and began to fire at the troopers. Only a handful flattened themselves against the stone, most remaining standing.

  Within moment, most of them were down, one way or another.

  Rachyla shook her head, as if trying to clear her senses, and started to scramble away. Mykel grabbed her arm and dragged her back down the steps toward the first squad. “Hendyl! Tie her up, and don’t let her get away.”

  After thrusting Rachyla at the ranker, Mykel scrambled back into the saddle, but by the time he was mounted, the attackers had vanished. “First squad! Hold position. Take out anyone who fires! Second and third squads, follow me!”

  Mykel turned the chestnut and headed back out through the entry, two squads following him. As he had thought, some of the seltyr’s men were fleeing toward an orchard. “Rifles away. Sabres out!”

  Mykel was adequate with a sabre. Riding down men who ran from him, he didn’t have to be better than that.

  When the two squads re-formed just short of the orchard a quarter glass later, only a handful of those who had fled had escaped. Another half score had been wounded or captured.

  “Back to the villa. Get the prisoners moving.”

  Another quarter glass had passed by the time Mykel and the two squads and the prisoners were back inside the walls. Only half of first squad remained in the courtyard, with the mounts of the other half score. The bodies of two troopers had been strapped across their saddles, and two others were having their wounds bound.

  “The majer took a half squad into the place, sir,” Hendyl reported.

  Mykel nodded. “Just hold here, rifles ready.” He raised his voice. “Second squad. Hold here for backup! With the prisoners. Third squad, we’re headed for the stables.” The whole situation was a mess, but he could only do what he thought best

  By the time he reached the stables, fourth and fifth squads had already re-formed, with fewer than ten prisoners that the squads were herding back past the outbuildings to the main house. Mykel saw a good score of bodies sprawled on the open space around the stables.

  “Sir! There were a good two squads worth out here,” announced Bhoral. “Not any good with the basics. They couldn’t shoot that well.”

  “Cadmian rifles, too?”

  “Yes, sir. We got those collected.”

  “How about casualties?”

  “One dead, maybe three wounded. We’ve got everything secured here, sir.”

  “Good. Thank you, Bhoral. Stand by here. I’ll take third squad back to the villa.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As he turned the chestnut back toward the villa, Mykel surveyed the road to the gates and the surrounding areas. He saw no one moving, except for Cadmians. It had been a mess, but it could have been worse, much worse. All the in-formation he had been given had been about smugglers and escaped prisoners, but no one had even hinted that the rebels—or those who had broken the Code and obtained smuggled Cadmian rifles—were the wealthy seltyrs of Dra-mur. That worried him more than the attack itself had.

  When he returned to the villa courtyard, Majer Vaclyn and the half of first squad he had commandeered were returning from within the villa, ushering three servants, who carried a dead man dressed in ornate green—the seltyr Ubarjyr, no doubt. On the steps, her hands bound behind her, Rachyla stood, her eyes hard and cold. She did not look in Mykel’s direction, but at the majer. Had her eyes been a rifle or a crossbow, the majer would have been dead.

  Vaclyn turned to Mykel. “Your report, Captain.”

  “We captured or killed almost a company’s worth of retainers. We’ve lost three men—so far—and about that many wounded. They were using Cadmian rifles. Squads four and five are holding the stables and outbuildings.”

  Vaclyn nodded grudgingly, then said, “We need a complete search of the buildings and grounds, Captain.” He paused but for a moment, “Just one contraband rifle, now?”

  Mykel thought about pointing out that he had never felt that there had been just one, only that he had not seen the wisdom in taking Rachyla into custody at that point. He decided against correcting the majer. “Quite a few, sir. Would you mind if we used two squads to search, one to guard the prisoners, and two to make sure that we don’t get attacked by any more of this seltyr’s retainers?”

  “That sounds most prudent, Captain. I will be accompanying you personally. I would suggest that you observe the seltyr’s study.”

  Mykel turned to Gendsyr. “Send a scout to Bhoral at the stables. He’s to use one squad to search the buildings for contraband and one to stand guard. Have first squad stand guard here.”

  “Scout to the senior squad leader, yes, sir.”

  The captain caught Chyndylt’s eye. ‘Third squad will search the villa for contraband. No looting, and no souvenirs!“

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mykel dismounted and let the majer lead the way along the covered walkway from the portico to the main entrance to the single-level villa. The roof of the walkway was supported by columns of ivory marble, and between the columns were raised planters containing a profusion of small purple-and-gold flowers. The walkway itself was of plain ivory marble.

  Double doors, of solid golden oak and carved with half reliefs of vines and grapes, stood ajar at the villa’s entrance. Just inside was an oblong foyer, only four yards deep but a good eight from side to side. On the walls were hung tapestries with interlocking designs of purple and gold, woven with threads that seemingly matched the colors of the flowers bordering the walkway.

  Majer Vaclyn walked through the archway opposite the entrance and down another marble-floored corridor, the sound of his boots muffled by the heavy green-and-gold carpet runner that covered the middle of the corridor floor. The right side of the corridor was composed of a waist-high half wall, with regularly spaced structural marble pillars, that separated the corridor from the covered section of the central courtyard. Inward from the covered area was an open area holding five fountains, and four herb gardens, one in each corner.

  “The next door is the study,” announced the majer.

  Just outside the study, Mykel saw a body that had been pulled to the side of the corridor, leaving a series of blood smears on the polished white marble. He bent down. The dead woman was the one who had accompanied Rachyla. “Sir? Did Fifteenth Company shoot this woman?”

  “No… not that I saw, Captain. She was dead when we got here.”

  Vaclyn thought he was telling the truth. So who had shot Astylara?Why?

  The seltyr’s study measured ten yards by fifteen, with bookshelves on all the walls. Less than a quarter of the shelves held books. Most of the spaces were filled with decorative objects—golden vases, small statues of horses, one of a pteridon with spread wings, the bust of a beautiful woman wearing an elaborate golden choker adorned with emeralds and diamonds.

  The single desk was of black oak, and completely bare except for an open ledger.

  At one end of the study—in a weapons rack—were three Cadmian rifles, all polished and shimmering. Suspecting that the magazines were full, Mykel checked. They were, as was the magazine of the rifle lying on the faf end of the heavy Indyoran carpet that covered most of the marble-floored study. The splotches of blood on the top of the barrel had dried.

  Just beyond the rifle, a bookcase was swung away from the wall, revealing a chamber beyond. Several books lay on the marble floor. Two were open, pages loose from where bullets had hit them. Blood was splattered on the floor as well.

  “Seltyr Ubarjyr was coming out of that chamber th
ere when we came through the door. He didn’t get his rifle up in time.”

  Mykel could tell the majer was lying. Ubarjyr had been holding the rifle, but he’d never raised it. He would have tried to make a deal, and Vaclyn wasn’t interested in deals. He wanted the dead body of a rebel landowner. A dead body with contraband rifles around was much more convenient. Mykel did wonder why the majer had used a rifle, rather than his beloved knives.

  “You should look in the chamber, Captain.”

  Mykel did, although, from Vaclyn’s tone, he knew what he would find.

  Four cases of Cadmian rifles were stacked on one side of the long and narrow room. On the other were close to forty smaller cases of ammunition.

  “Quite a bit of ammunition here,” Mykel observed, knowing that the majer would need an acknowledgment.

  “There is, isn’t there?” Vaclyn looked hard at Mykel. “What have you learned today, Captain?” The majer’s voice was low and hard.

  “There’s more rebel activity here than meets the eye, and it’s not just escaped prisoners.”

  “That is brilliantly obvious.” Vaclyn snorted. “You could have lost your entire company! The only reason that you didn’t is that these rebels hadn’t learned to use their weapons well. There is a reason for following the Code directly. From now on, Captain, you take anyone with any contraband into custody. I don’t care if it’s the local justicer or the wealthiest grower in Dramur. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One more incident like this, and I will recommend that you stand court-martial for insubordination and recommend your dismissal in disgrace.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mykel managed to keep his face immobile, furious as he was.

  “Your talents obviously lie more in direct action, Captain. Tomorrow, Fifteenth Company will ride to relieve Fourteenth Company, and you will patrol the area north of the mine, and you will capture or kill, as necessary, the escaped miners.”