Alector's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We will search the rest of the villa. With a room like this, we probably won’t find any more, but we need to look. We’ll take whatever wagons the estate has to transport contraband back to Dramuria.”

  Mykel searched the hidden room, but found nothing more than the rifles, the ammunition, and five locked chests, doubtless containing golds, although he did not break the locks. By shifting them, he could hear and feel the coins move.

  Then, once Majer Vaclyn had left, he went back to the desk and looked at the open ledger, studying the entries. He saw nothing about rifles or ammunition, but the number of golds spent on various things, from bolts of cloth to horses and even iron rods, was staggering. One entry alone for bolts of cotton was two hundred golds—four times more than the cost of a factor’s great house in Faitel.

  For Mykel, the question remained—why had Ubarjyr risked everything to smuggle in so many rifles and so much ammunition? It didn’t make sense, not with what Mykel knew.

  He shook his head. He needed to get back to overseeing his men. Although he had assigned squad leaders whom he trusted not to loot, it would be better if he were supervising what the men were doing.

  27

  As both the majer and Mykel had suspected, a search of the estate buildings revealed no contraband besides that already found in the secret chamber off the study. It did reveal a hidden storeroom filled with recently sewn uniforms in green with gold trim and with several score cartridge belts, along with the leather cut for several score more.

  Once Fifteenth Company had gathered the wagons filled with rifles, ammunition, uniforms, and cartridge belts, Majer Vaclyn had returned the estate to the care of the steward—with severe warnings about supporting smuggling and handling contraband weapons. Then the majer had accompanied Fifteenth Company, the prisoners— fifteen of the men in the green uniforms and Rachyla—and the wagons for several vingts southward. Mykel had really wanted to talk to Rachyla, but he wasn’t about to try that with the majer around, not when Vaclyn already thought he’d initially let her go because she was attractive.

  She was, Mykel admitted to himself, but that had not been his reasoning, not that he’d ever convince the majer. So he kept riding, and listening to Vaclyn.

  “Some of these growers… they’ve been a law unto themselves, and they have to learn that the Code applies to them just like everyone else… and it applies to us as well, Captain. I don’t want you forgetting that.”

  “No, sir.” Mykel wasn’t about to forget how Vaclyn thought about that.

  After another quarter glass, the majer turned in the saddle once more, his eyes on Mykel. “Here is where I leave you, Captain. I’ll be heading directly to Dramuria to report on , this to the Myrmidon colonel. I expect you to ride straight through with the prisoners and the evidence. Be alert! Someone might try to ambush you to get the weapons.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mykel had thought of that already. He had two lines of scouts out.

  “Good day, Captain.” With that, the majer had nodded and ridden ahead with the squad from Thirteenth Company.

  Mykel and Bhoral rode silently until the majer and his squad were well out of sight.

  “What do you make of all this, sir?” asked the senior squad leader.

  “It seems clear that someone among the alectors had a good idea that something was about to happen here.”

  “If they knew that, why did they send us?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know who had the guns and where they were, just that they’d been smuggled to Dramur. Pteri-dons aren’t very effective if you don’t know where to point those lancers. You could burn up a lot of villas and destroy a lot of estates and not get anything.”

  “So we’re doing the grunt work, sort of moving targets to flush these rebels out?”

  Mykel offered a rueful laugh. “It’s beginning to look that way.”

  “I still don’t see why the seltyr just didn’t open up the villa and invite you and the majer in. We couldn’t have found those hidden rooms, not without bashing holes in the walls, and even the majer wouldn’t have done that.”

  Mykel wasn’t sure about that.

  “If we came back, ready to do that, we wouldn’t have found anything,” Bhoral concluded. “Or they would have set up a real ambush.”

  Thoughts along those lines had occurred to Mykel. “I think I’ll see if the young woman might answer some questions.”

  “Good luck, Captain. She looked like she’d be happy to see us all flogged and flamed.”

  Mykel turned his mount back along the road until he reached the wagons and the string of mounts that carried the uninjured prisoners. Although Rachyla still had her hands tied behind her, she rode more easily than did Mykel as he eased his mount around and up beside her.

  She kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring the captain.

  “Good afternoon, Rachyla.”

  Rachyla did not look at Mykel, nor did she answer.

  “Since you’re not responding to pleasantries, perhaps you’d like to tell me why your father gathered all those rifles. He had to have known it was against the Code.”

  Rachyla said nothing, and she continued looking at the troopers before her and the road.

  “Did you think I could just let you go on breaking the Code? Or that the majer would allow me to?”

  She still said nothing.

  “How could you—or he—believe you could stockpile all those Cadmian rifles without someone finding out?”

  There was no response.

  “He was building his own army. There were uniforms and cartridge belts. How could he possibly have thought he could get away with it?”

  She turned in the saddle and stared directly at Mykel. “You are an idiot, Captain. He was betrayed by those he trusted, just as you will be.” Then she turned away, looking directly ahead of her at the long and gently winding road that led back to Dramuria.

  Mykel tried another long string of questions, but the one response was all that he got from her. After riding beside her for more than three vingts, he finally rode back to the head of the column, where he eased his mount up beside that of Gendsyr.

  “Captain?”

  “I just had a few questions, Gendsyr, about what first squad was doing with the majer. I’ll have to write a report on it, and I wasn’t there.” Mykel offered an embarrassed smile.

  “Wasn’t really all that much. After you took care of the ones firing at us, he ordered half the first squad to follow him. Didn’t take all that long before he was back, and so were you.”

  Mykel should have realized that Gendsyr would have been left holding the courtyard. “Who went with the majer who could tell me what happened?”

  The squad leader turned in the saddle. “Halomer! Ride up here!”

  “Coming, sir.” Halomer was an older ranker, probably older than Mykel, who rode well and slipped his mount between those of the captain and the squad leader.

  “Captain here wants to know what you did in the villa with the majer.”

  “We just followed him. Everyone pretty much got out of the way until we got to that study. Some servant tried to stop us, and the majer clubbed him aside and charged inside. That was the first time there were any shots.”

  “Did anyone from first squad fire their weapons in the study?” asked Mykel.

  “No, sir. The majer went in first, and he had his rifle out.”

  “So he killed the seltyr?”

  “I didn’t see that, sir. I was behind the majer. He fired, and when we got in there, the seltyr was down. He was dead.”

  “You searched the rest of the villa after that?”

  “No, sir. The majer looked around the study. Then we went back to the front under those pillars. That was when you came back. We didn’t do any searching until you ordered it.” ¦ Mykel nodded. “Thank you. That’s all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Halomer let his mount drop back, Mykel turned to Gendsyr. “Is there anything else I mis
sed that I should know?”

  The squad leader frowned. “Don’t think so, sir.”

  With a faint smile, Mykel nodded. “Thank you.” He eased the chestnut forward to rejoin Bhoral in the van.

  Why had the majer killed the seltyr? Was it because he knew that the man would somehow escape, because of his connections and wealth? Vaclyn had certainly seen enough to be that cynical, and he was zealous enough to want to see the Code upheld, almost at any cost. That he had certainly made clear to Mykel.

  Ubarjyr had been betrayed by those he had trusted. That Rachyla had believed. But how could anyone trust smugglers or whoever dealt in contraband weapons?

  Had the Cadmians in Dramuria been involved? Was that why Majer Herryf had been unable to supply any detailed information? That was certainly a possibility. But he had no proof, although that sort of conspiracy would certainly explain many of the strange aspects of the Third Battalion’s deployment to Dramur, including why Majer Vaclyn had made sure that the seltyr had been killed.

  All Mykel could do was keep his eyes and ears open— and try not to trust anyone. He shifted his weight in the saddle and took a deep breath.

  28

  Darkness had long since fallen over the Cadmian compound north of Dramuria by the time Mykel and Fifteenth Company arrived on Septi night. While Bho-ral settled the rest of the company, Mykel and second squad escorted the captives to the confinement barracks. There, the senior squad leader in charge of the confinement barracks told Mykel that Rachyla would be confined in the officer’s cell on the ground floor of the adjoining building.

  Mykel walked beside Rachyla, her hands still bound behind her. Four troopers followed them. In the dimness away from the wall lamps, she stumbled on an uneven stone, and Mykel steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “If you don’t mind, Captain…”

  “Just making sure you don’t try to escape,” he answered lightly.

  “You think that a mere woman could escape from here? With so many brave Cadmians around?” Her voice was openly scornful.

  “If anyone could, you could,” Mykel replied quietly.

  Her only response was a disdainful laugh.

  There were two guards already posted outside the officer’s cell. An iron grate covered the closed shutters.

  “Sir?” asked the guards.

  “This is Lady Rachyla. She will be confined here. I’d like to check the quarters.”

  The two guards exchanged glances.

  “One of you can come in, or not, as you please. My men will guard outside until I leave.”

  “As you wish, sir. So long as she stays safe inside.”

  “She’ll stay.” Mykel had his doubts about her safety anywhere, but there was little that he could do.

  The shorter guard opened the heavy wooden door. Mykel stepped inside and glanced around the spartan room, dimly lit only by the wall lamps outside on each side of the door. All the cell held were a bed, a desk, and a stool, plus pegs on the wall. A chamber pot stood in one corner. He walked around for a moment, then turned. “Bring the lady inside.”

  “I can walk in myself.” She did.

  “You can close the door. I need to ask her some questions.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mykel had no doubts they thought he had other ideas, but he also didn’t want any rankers hanging over his shoulder. He waited until the door clunked shut. The cell was dark, but the faint light seeping through the shutters was enough. His night vision had always been good.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can untie your wrists.”

  Rachyla turned.

  “Don’t move. I may have to cut these.”

  He didn’t, but he did have to use the point of the knife to loosen the outer knot. Before he finished loosening her bonds, he sheathed the knife. Then, leaving her to work free the last of the rope, he stepped back.

  She turned to face him in the dimness. “Such an honorable man you are, Captain. I never would have guessed.”

  “Sit down. I need some answers.” He raised his voice, facing the door.

  “I am not sitting on the bed, Captain.”

  “Then sit on the stool or stand,” Mykel replied. “As you please.”

  “What would please me would be to depart here.” Rachyla continued to stand.

  “That is unlikely, although if anyone could manage it, you probably could.”

  “I am the captive, and you seek to flatter me? Are you so deprived that you would seek pleasure from a prisoner? Do you think I would sell myself so cheaply?”

  Once more Mykel could sense that her words were not bravado, but more like a statement of fact. “No. You might find yourself forced, but you would never sell yourself.”

  “You know me so well?”

  “No. I don’t know you at all. I can tell some things about you, and that’s one that was obvious from the time I saw you driving that cart. Why were you carrying that rifle? Had someone just left it there, and you didn’t want to be bothered by taking it back?”

  The moment of silence was enough for Mykel to judge that he was close to the truth. He laughed, ruefully. “And you wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that. I should have guessed.”

  As he looked at her, he thought he saw, despite the darkness, a trace of brightness in and around her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish it had been otherwise. I imagine you do as well.”

  “I don’t need pity, Captain. Or false sympathy. Or anything else.”

  “Did you know your father was stockpiling so many weapons?” Mykel really didn’t want to ask the question, but he needed to ask some, just in case Vaclyn inquired.

  Rachyla didn’t answer.

  “You said he was betrayed? Who betrayed him? The smugglers who brought the weapons?”

  “Do you think my father would ever have trusted a smuggler to keep his word, Captain?” Rachyla laughed, a full but bitter sound.

  ‘Then who was it? The local council?“

  “The council is nothing. Neither are your alectors. The true and rightful rulers of Dramur are its seltyrs.”

  “The true and rightful rulers? You deny the Duarches?”

  Rachyla looked straight at Mykel, but said nothing, offering what might have been a faint and sad smile.

  “You truly believe that?”

  She remained mute.

  “If you did escape, what would you do?”

  There was no answer.

  Mykel laughed, gently and stepped back. “Good night, Lady Rachyla.” Then he rapped on the door. “I’m finished here.”

  When the door opened, all six Cadmians had rifles trained on the doorway.

  Rachyla’s brief laughter filled the courtyard, cut off as one of the local Cadmian rankers closed the door, shoved both the heavy iron bolts into place, then snapped the lock shut.

  “Thank you.” Mykel inclined his head to the guards.

  “You find out anything, sir?”

  “A little. Not as much as I’d like, but she wasn’t about to say more now.”

  “She will in time. They all do. Every one.”

  That might have been, but Mykel was convinced that Rachyla was anything but everyone.

  He looked at his own rankers. “Let’s go.”

  As he crossed the courtyard, he thought about his brief interaction with the seltyr’s daughter. Rachyla didn’t care for him, and she shouldn’t have, given what he had been forced to do, but she had also been giving him a message, and that message was most clear. Someone in the Cadmians, or in the government of the Duarchy, had been involved. Who or why—those were questions whose answers were the merest speculation.

  If what she had intimated happened to be true, Mykel and

  Fifteenth Company, indeed, the entire Third Battalion, faced a much more complicated situation than anyone could have known—and there was nothing Mykel could say about it. The majer wouldn’t listen, and there was no one above him, not within hundreds of vin
gts, to whom Mykel dared entrust such information. Not until he knew more.

  He did wish that he’d met Rachyla under other circumstances, but that wouldn’t have made any difference. She was wealthy—and he was a crafter’s son and a city boy, and now she was likely to spend years in confinement, or even be executed, and it was largely Mykel’s doing. All he’d had to do would have been to ignore the rifle.

  He laughed, ironically. That was the one thing he couldn’t have done unless he wanted to be responsible for scores of Cadmian deaths.

  29

  After a short early-morning flight on Octdi with Falyna—a flight that revealed nothing, including in the area around the ancient tunnel—Dainyl was walking across the Cadmian courtyard when Captain Meryst hurried up to him.

  “Colonel, sir… Majer Herryf would beg your indulgence to join him in his study at your earliest convenience.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Dainyl smiled politely. “Did he say what might be so urgent?”

  “He said that a large cache of contraband weapons had been discovered in an unanticipated location, sir. That is all he said, except that I was to tell no one that, save you.”

  “I will be there shortly, then.” Dainyl debated making the arrogant majer wait, but such tactics would be lost on the majer and only make his own day longer. He turned and followed the captain, shortening his stride to match steps with the much smaller Cadmian officer.

  Two Cadmian officers bolted upright as Dainyl strode into Majer Herryf’s study. Behind Dainyl, Captain Meryst closed the door, taking care to remain outside and leave the three more senior officers alone. Dainyl repressed a smile of amusement at Meryst’s quiet tact, so at odds with Herryf’s manner.

  “I am sorry to bother you, Colonel.” Herryf nodded to the other officer, standing beside him. “Majer Vaclyn has arrived with a… startling report.”

  Dainyl disliked Herryf’s fawning and apologetic tone even more than the majer’s arrogance, which remained beneath the subservience. “What might that be?” He turned to the Third Battalion majer, the older of the two Cadmian officers.