Alector's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Dainyl laughed.

  The two majers managed to maintain their facades, but Dainyl could sense the worry. He waited a moment before speaking, letting the silence draw out.

  “You have both managed to avoid dealing with this, and you have created a situation where it is in the best interests of the Duarches for me to act as justicer.” He smiled again. “You have both been most clever, and I will serve as justicer in a court-martial, but… the local Dramurian justicer will sit close at hand so that I may consult with him about local matters.” He could sense the relief of both majers.

  “The court-martial will begin the day after tomorrow,” Dainyl added. ‘This is not a matter that should be delayed. I will need a list of all who witnessed the event, especially the captain and the squad leader. The relatives of the dead man should also be informed. They will be present at the court-martial.“ He turned to Herryf. ”You will arrange for the local justicer to be here. You will not tell him why, except that I desire his presence.“

  “Yes, sir.”

  After he left the two majers, Dainyl walked back to his quarters, pondering. He could not imagine how the two majers had put aside their differences, but perhaps necessity and ambition did occasionally surmount personal feelings.

  46

  On Quinti morning, Dainyl was in the small hall being used for the trial well before the eighth glass of the morning. He had a folder containing his notes, some questions, the request from Majer Vaclyn, and the report from Captain Mykel.

  Cadmian troopers were lining up benches. One table and two chairs had been set on a dais, and a narrower table with three chairs placed to the left of the dais. One of the chairs pn the dais actually had been made to seat alectors. As he glanced around the hall, Dainyl was surprised to find Stur-wart there, at one side of the hall, talking to a darker-skinned man with iron gray hair. Behind them were four locals—a gray-haired woman, a younger blonde woman, and two men slightly past youth. They had to be relatives of the slain cot holder.

  Sturwart turned. “Colonel! I’d like you to meet Justicer Alveryt.”

  Dainyl crossed the hall, then stopped a yard or so from the pair.

  “You had asked for me to be present, sir,” said the older man.

  “I’m pleased to see you. As you may have heard, it is a court-martial for murder.”

  “Serious as that is, an alector and a senior Myrmidon officer does not require a mere local justicer.” Alveryt smiled politely.

  “Need is not the same as wisdom,” Dainyl replied, smiling and projecting a sense of friendliness. “As a justicer, you can explain to others why matters were the way they were. Also, I have some questions about the trooper accused of the murder, and I may need you to interrogate him in matters about which I do not have any knowledge. Finally, were I not here, it is possible that this might have come before you, and I thought you should be here.”

  Alveryt bowed. “You are most considerate.” He smiled. “It also serves your purposes.”

  “Of course,” Dainyl admitted.

  “There will be a record of the trial?”

  “I have arranged for that.” Dainyl might have a few sections removed from what was given to the justicer, but that would probably be unnecessary.

  “That will prove most useful,” suggested Sturwart. “Many people are upset about the patrols by the Cadmians.”

  “The Cadmians are upset that people are shooting at them.”

  “Is that not just talk? Except for Seltyr Ubarjyr, that is?”

  “I have not seen the latest numbers on casualties, but I know that there are ten or twelve dead Cadmians and as many who have been wounded in the past few weeks.”

  “That many?” Sturwart was honestly surprised.

  “I am most certain that the numbers are higher now.” At the sound of boots on the stone, Dainyl turned. A Cadmian captain—doubtless Captain Mykel—and a squad of Cadmians had appeared and were taking places on the benches. A single trooper sat in the chair for the accused, with two armed Cadmians behind and flanking him.

  “If you will excuse me,” Dainyl said politely to Sturwart.

  Turning to Alveryt, he added, “I would appreciate it if you would take the other chair at the table.”

  Alveryt laughed softly. “I can see which chair is mine.”

  Dainyl couldn’t help but like the justicer. Dainyl’s Talent showed that Alveryt was honest and direct, but, as Dainyl had learned many years before, that might not be enough.

  As he and Alveryt took their places at the table on the dais, three Cadmian rankers settled at the narrow table to the left, with pens and stacks of paper, ready to record the proceedings. Within a few moments, Majer Vaclyn appeared, followed by Herryf. Both majers settled into the pair of chairs to the right of the dais.

  Dainyl looked to Vaclyn. “Is everyone present?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dainyl waited a moment for the murmurs among the Cadmians to die away. “This is a Cadmian court-martial. All procedures of justicing will be followed. Cadmian trooper Polynt, of the third squad of the Fifteenth Company of the Third Cadmian Battalion, has been charged with the murder of holder Casimyl of Lecorya. Trooper Polynt, stand and step forward.”

  Polynt did so, his eyes meeting those of the colonel.

  “You have been charged with murder. How do you declare?”

  “I did no murder, sir. I declare that I am innocent.”

  “The man charged has declared his innocence. Let it be so noted.” Dainyl nodded to Polynt. “You may be seated until called again.”

  Polynt sat without speaking.

  “A moment, if you would, Colonel?” murmured Alveryt.

  Dainyl turned and leaned toward the justicer. “Yes?”

  “I did not recognize the name of the trooper,” said Alveryt in a voice that barely carried to the colonel, “but he is indeed from Dramur. He was a laborer in the dyeworks at Santazl. His name then was Apolynt. He was called Pol. He murdered his uncle and took his golds and fled Dramur. An abandoned boat was found, and everyone thought he had drowned.”

  “How did you know him?”

  “He was sent to the mines before that for lifting coins from a potter. I heard the case.”

  “Thank you. We’ll get to that later.” Dainyl turned back toward the Cadmians. “Captain Mykel, commanding officer, Fifteenth Company, step forward.”

  The blond and lanky lander captain stepped forward, stiffened, and offered a slight bow.

  “You were with third squad when the shooting took place, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir. I was riding at the front of the patrol.”

  “Did you see the holder before he was killed?”

  “Yes, sir. He was working on a stone wall, but he stopped as we neared. He looked at us. He wasn’t pleased to see us, and he murmured something like, ‘Brave, brave, Cadmians.’ I watched him for a moment, but he just stood there.”

  “How did you know he had been shot?”

  “I didn’t know who had been shot, but there were two reports from a rifle at the rear of the squad, and I told Chyn-dylt to hold the front of the squad, and I rode toward the rear to see what had happened…”

  Dainyl watched the captain closely, Talent-sensing as well as listening while the captain explained his actions, and how he had determined who had fired the shots. Two things were obvious. First, the captain was telling the truth and had acted relatively quickly and decisively, for which Dainyl was grateful. Second, the captain might well be a latent Talent himself, although he was clearly unaware of that ability. In that respect, he would have to be watched, another headache for Dainyl.

  “… then Polynt said Mergeyt had switched rifles. I checked the numbers on each rifle immediately and had trooper Rykyt verify the numbers. When we got back to our temporary base, I cross-checked those numbers. The ri-fle that killed the holder was the one issued to Polynt. It was the one he was holding when I rode up.” The captain stood waiting.

  “Did you see anything to
suggest that the rifles were switched before you got there?”

  “No, sir. There was more than a yard between their mounts.”

  Dainyl paused, then asked, “In the past, did Polynt ever use his rifle on bystanders—or men who had surrendered? Or behave more violently or less predictably than other troopers?”

  “No, sir. If anything, he was cooler and more levelheaded than many.”

  “Thank you, Captain, that will be all for now. You may be seated.”

  Mykel bowed, and returned to his seat.

  Dainyl looked to the accused. “Trooper Polynt, would you please step forward?”

  Polynt rose and took two steps forward. His eyes met Dainyl’s easily.

  “Tell us what happened on the lane when the holder was killed.”

  Polynt shifted his weight from one boot to the other, ever so slightly, but continued looking directly at Dainyl. “It was like this, sir. We were riding patrol. We’d been riding patrols all over Dramur. Every place we rode, people would yell at us or say things in low voices. They’d tell us to go home, or to leave honest folk alone. I’ve heard that before. You get used to it, but I was riding with Mergeyt, and we were in the last rank that day. Been a long day, sir, and we’d been shot at twice. Luck would have it, no one got hurt that day, but we’d already lost maybe ten men in the company, and another ten or so been wounded trying to track down the rebels and troublemakers. We saw this old fellow working on a stone wall. He stopped working, just watched us as we rode up. Sort of sneered, he did; then he said something to the troopers a cou-pie of ranks up. I didn’t hear what he said, but they sort of got stiff. One of ‘em, I think it was Sofolt, put his hand on his rifle, but he didn’t do anything. We got close, and the old fellow looked at me and Mergeyt, and he said something like, ’You’re such brave Cadmians. You think you’re so brave, but you’re as useless as teats on a boar. Go on, brave, brave Cadmians.‘ Well, before I could even think to say anything, Mergeyt took out his rifle and plugged the fellow. Took two quick shots. That was all. I looked at him, and then he threw the rifle at my chest. ’Course, I caught it, and quick as I couldn’t believe, he’d grabbed mine. Then, the captain rode back, and I was sitting there in the saddle with a hot rifle.” Polynt paused, then added. “That’s what happened, sir.” His eyes had never left Dainyl’s.

  The most frightening thing about Polynt’s statement was his belief in his own words.

  “Did trooper Mergeyt say anything?” asked Dainyl.

  “He might have, sir. I don’t rightly recall.”

  “Captain Mykel wrote a report, which will be included as part of the record. In that report, he noted that the rifle that you held, the one that had been fired, was your rifle, that the maker’s numbers matched those of the rifle issued to you. If trooper Mergeyt had used his weapon, that rifle should have borne his numbers, not yours. How do you explain that, trooper?”

  “Sir, I can’t explain that. I just know what happened, just like I said.”

  “I will have further questions for you later, trooper. Please take your seat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ‘Trooper Mergeyt. Please step forward.“

  Unlike Polynt, Mergeyt was nervous, shaking slightly as he stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

  “Please tell me what you saw.”

  “Yes, sir. Wasn’t like Polynt said, sir. Not exactly. I mean, well, there was the old fellow. He was laying stone, and he said stuff, but I wasn’t paying no attention. Not until he looked at Polynt, and he said something like, ‘Worthless pup, come back to foul your own den?’ Hiding behind a Cadmian uniform, now. Such a brave, brave Cadmian.‘ Polynt didn’t say nothing, just took out his rifle and shot him. Had to turn in the saddle, sideways. After that, the captain came riding back, and he had his rifle out, made both us give our rifles to Rykyt…”

  As Mergeyt finished talking, Dainyl managed to keep from nodding. Nervous as the trooper was, he was telling the truth, even if he had kept looking away from Dainyl. “Thank you. You may sit down.”

  Dainyl looked at Polynt. “Step forward.”

  Polynt did. “Trooper Mergeyt has said that the holder said that you’d come back to foul your own den? Why would the holder have said that?”

  “He didn’t say that, sir. He just talked to Mergeyt.”

  “Is there any reason why he would have said something like that?”

  “He didn’t say that, sir.”

  “Aren’t you from Dramur, trooper?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you know the holder?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Please take a seat and remove your left boot, trooper.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. Remove your left boot.”

  Polynt stiffened ever so slightly, and just momentarily, before sitting down. Slowly, he removed the left boot.

  “Lift your trouser and show us your ankle.”

  Polynt did.

  “Would you please explain the number on your ankle?” Prom the corner of his eye, Dainyl saw Sturwart’s mouth open, but the colonel kept his concentration on the trooper.

  “I can’t, sir. I just can’t.”

  Dainyl could sense both the truth and the frustration in Polynt.

  “Do you see a number there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Has it always been there?”

  “I… don’t know, sir.”

  “Do you know how it got there?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You may put your boot back on.” Dainyl turned. “I would like Justicer Alveryt to explain the tattoo on the trooper’s ankle, and how it came to be there.”

  Alveryt nodded slightly and cleared his throat. “Until I saw the trooper this morning, I did not realize who he was. His name is Apolynt, and he is from Santazl. He was convicted of theft from a potter h’ere six years ago. After his term in the mines, he was suspected of having committed a murder, but he ran into the night. When an overturned boat was found in the gulf, several days later, he was believed dead.”

  ‘Trooper Polynt, is your name Apolynt?“

  “That’s what my father called me. I never used the name.”

  “Are you from Santazl?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you sentenced to the mines?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you not asked if you had been convicted of a major crime when you joined the Cadmians?”

  “I don’t rightly recall, sir.”

  “Are you not aware that concealing a crime to join the Cadmians is a flogging offense?”

  “No, sir. I never heard that.”

  Once more, Dainyl could sense the internal confusion in the trooper, a confusion that bore a sense of Talent-manipulation.

  “You may be seated.”

  Polynt reseated himself.

  ‘Trooper Rykyt, step forward.“

  The trooper who stepped before the dais was older.

  “Please describe what you saw concerning the killing of the holder.”

  Dainyl listened carefully to Rykyt and the other troopers he called, but nothing any of them said cast the slightest shadow of doubt on what Captain Mykel had reported. After all the witnesses had been heard, slightly before noon, Dainyl let the silence draw out for a time as he studied Polynt.

  The ranker had killed the cot holder. There was no doubt about that, and there was little doubt that Justicer Alveryt thought so as well. The fact that he had fled Dramuria after committing one murder—and could not say where he had been—and that someone had used Talent on the man’s thoughts to block those memories—that was far more disturbing, because it meant either one of the highest of alec-tors was involved, or that there was a highly Talented lander loose. Dainyl liked neither of the possibilities. Still, he had to make a judgment on the facts before him and to pass sentence.

  “Polynt, please rise and face your judgment.”

  The trooper did. For the first time, there was uncertainty and fear in his eye
s.

  Dainyl stood and looked down at the trooper. “By the authority vested in me by the High Alector of Justice, under the Code of the Duarches, and the regulations governing all Cadmians, I hereby confirm that the accused has had the right to state his case, and that all parties to the offense have been heard. The holder Casimyl of Lecorya was shot and murdered on his own holding. This proceeding has established beyond any doubt that you, Apolynt of Santazl, committed that murder. For that murder, you will be flogged until dead. Your sentence will be carried out one glass before sunset tonight.” Dainyl paused just briefly, then added the ritual phrase. “Justice has been done; justice will be done. This court-martial is hereby concluded.”

  “No! I didn’t!”

  Polynt started to move, but before he took half a step, the Cadmian guards seized him. In moments, his hands were bound, and a gag was across his mouth.

  Dainyl noted that Captain Mykel had been right there. He and his men had anticipated what Polynt would do, and they had been ready. That was the mark of a good officer, but a good lander officer who might discover his Talent was something else again. Yet good officers were always hard to come by, and many who were potentially Talented never did discover their Talent.

  That meant that Dainyl would be the one to watch Captain Mykel. There were no other alectors near, and, equally important, after what he was discovering, whom else could he trust?

  47

  Mykel stood facing north in the Cadmian compound, third squad before him. The entire squad, including Mykel, wore red armbands—the sign of blood shed wrongfully.

  Chyndylt took one step forward, then stiffened, and snapped, ‘Third squad, ready, sir!“

  “Thank you, squad leader. Stand fast.” Mykel about-faced, so that he looked directly at the T-shaped flogging stand directly before him.

  On the right of the flogging stand was Majer Vaclyn. Beside it on the left waited a thick-thewed figure in black wearing a black mask and cowl, and holding the execution whip, with its razor-sharp barbs.