Alector's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “A very real ancient…” He went on to describe both his encounters with the soarer and her words. “There’s a power there that’s frightening. It’s not just their power to transport themselves places, either. I can see that. Their mirror seems equivalent to a Table.”

  “You said that the creatures disappeared into the rock. I’d wager the soarer could do that as well.”

  Dainyl thought about that. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but if they’re so powerful, why haven’t they shown themselves?”

  “There can’t be that many, not compared to all the landers and indigens. The only ruins we’ve found are in high and cold places. Even this tunnel is in the mountains, you said. We don’t like either, and we’re the ones most likely to sense them.”

  “Except for the landers with Talent,” he said.

  “They aren’t many of them, and you know what the Views of the Highest says about that. There wouldn’t be any if we could find them early enough.”

  “That’s true.” Dainyl paused, thinking about Captain Mykel for a moment.

  “You think they’re dangerous, even if there can’t be very many?”

  “I do. I couldn’t say why, though.” He paused. “I still can’t figure out what she meant by changing or perishing, and not being a part of the world.”

  “The second part is true, dearest. We’re not really a part of Acorus, not totally. We’re linked through the Tables back o Ifryn. Even if the Archon decides to bring the master scepter here, our link to this world will be through it.”

  “But they don’t regard the landers and indigens that way.”

  “No.” Lystrana laughed sardonically. “They feed on some of them, though, it sounds like. It could be that they :an’t do that to us.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re from Ifryn, even if we’re born here. We’re different. The landers and the indigens are partly Ifryn, but mostly adapted to and part of Acorus.”

  That made sense to Dainyl, but it left another question. “Why are they showing up now?”

  “Maybe they aren’t,” suggested Lystrana. “There have always been disappearances. Maybe this is one of those times when an alector with strong shields encountered them.”

  “Neither Falyna nor Quelyt sensed them.”

  “I’d wager that they’ve always been around.”

  “You think that the Highest and the Duarches have hushed up reports about them?”

  “It’s almost certain,” Lystrana concluded. “There would be pressure to find them, and that would divert resources and a great amount of lifeforce.”

  “And that would not please the Archon.”

  “No. And, if it’s as it appears, trying to root them out of high places would be most costly. When there are so few of them, the Duarches are most likely just watching and waiting for them to finish dying off. There can’t be that many left”

  “I’m not so certain. The soarers are somehow behind the miners’ escapes and attacks.”

  “I don’t think a handful of escaped miners presents that real a threat to the Duarchy,” she said.

  “No, they don’t. But why are the marshal and the Highest behind the contraband arms? I just wish I knew why.”

  “They could be using the miners as cover for their strategy to preempt trouble, couldn’t they?” asked Lystrana.

  “They might be, but there’s more there. I just don’t know what it could be.” He shook his head. “As soon as I take over and get rid of the officer who’s creating more trouble than he’s solving, I get recalled here for consultations. They want things to get worse in Dramur. And I’m not in a position where I can do anything. I have to think that Tyanylt discovered something and didn’t like it.”

  “You’re probably right.” Lystrana frowned. “There’s no proof, except for the contraband rifles, and the High Alector of Justice can claim they were part of a strategy to preempt later trouble because, if the seltyrs were allowed to gather forces and arms more slowly, they would have a broader base of support. They also might start developing artillery.”

  Dainyl winced. Life-reinforced garments and Talent-shields didn’t work against artillery. “So there’s no way you can go to your Highest or to the Duarch?”

  “Not unless we find out more,” Lystrana replied. “When do you meet with the marshal?”

  “In about two glasses, and I suppose I’d better start getting washed up and dressed.”

  Left unsaid as they climbed out of bed and into the chill air was the understanding that the meeting with the marshal would not be likely to produce anything resembling evidence.

  In the end, Dainyl had to hurry through dressing and eating, and because he couldn’t count on getting a coach to the Myrmidon compound, he left early, and walked, trying to think out what he could ask the marshal that was in character with what he was supposed to know.

  The snow of the previous night had mostly melted, although the skies were still gray, and a wind blew out of the northwest. Dainyl was more than happy to step out of the raw morning and into the comparative warmth of the headquarters building, and glad that he was early enough to warm up before his scheduled meeting with Marshal Shastylt.

  Before he headed to his study, he stopped at the duty desk, where Undercaptain Zernylta looked up, waiting. “Is the marshal in yet?”

  “No, sir,” she replied.

  “I’ll be in my study.” Dainyl nodded politely and walked down the corridor past the still-vacant study of the submar-shal. The door to his own study was closed. He opened it and stepped inside. The room was slightly musty, and there were stacks of reports piled on his desk. The colonel frowned. Certainly, the reports could have been sent with Quelyt or Falyna.

  With a deep breath he sat down and began to read. After less than half a glass, he almost wished he had not.

  Three of the reports were actually reports he’d sent to the marshal, and someone had read them, but there were no replies and no notations. The rest of the reports were the standard quintal reports from the various Myrmidon companies across Corus. Majer Dhenyr, the commander of the Fifth Company in Dereka, had reported the theft of two more skylances and requested replacements. How could anyone steal a skylance? They were either in their holders on a pteridon or stored in the pteridon’s square, never more than a few yards from one of the Talent-creatures. No one stole anything from a pteridon. They didn’t sleep, and their claws and beaks were lethal. They were virtually invulnerable to anything short of cannon—and there weren’t any cannon on Acorus, not that the alectors of the Tables had been able to find. Besides, it would have been obvious if anyone had used cannon.

  Third Company in Alustre had sent two squads north for reconnaissance around the North Road between Scien and Pystra, as requested by the marshal. Dainyl couldn’t help frowning at that. Two squads for recon? Why? Dainyl knew that the two local Cadmian companies there had been scheduled for rebasing at Norda, but that should have been completed a season earlier.

  “Sir?”

  Dainyl set the report down and looked up at Zorclyt, who stood in the doorway.

  “The marshal would like to see you now.”

  “Thank you.” Dainyl stood and walked swiftly from his study to the door of the marshal’s spaces.

  “Come in, Colonel.”

  Dainyl closed the study door behind him, then followed the marshal’s gesture and settled into one of the chairs across the desk from the head of the Myrmidons.

  As Shastylt looked directly at Dainyl, the marshal’s violet eyes were intent, the thin-lipped and wide mouth set in an expression of concern. The colonel had seen the marshal use that look before, and rather than respond, he merely waited. At some point, the marshal would speak, certain that his words would carry more weight after the silence.

  “You have handled the situation in Dramur with care and with tact”—Shastylt paused, leaving his words hanging before going on—“when many would have been tempted to act precipitously. At times, it is best to let an in
fection come to a head, where it is concentrated, rather than treat it with palliatives that will only prolong the treatment and recovery.”

  Dainyl nodded politely. “I have watched closely over the years and attempted to learn how to distinguish such differences.” What he wasn’t about to say was that he didn’t believe a word that Shastylt said, and that the analogy was misapplied to the situation in Dramur.

  “Even when you have some doubts about the wisdom of a policy suggested by the Highest, you seem able to understand that you may not see all that there is to see.”

  “The higher I have been promoted,” Dainyl replied easily, “the more obvious that has become.”

  Shastylt was the one who nodded. “For such reasons, the Highest and I have decided that you are indeed suited to be Submarshal of Myrmidons, particularly at this time. All Myrmidons are well aware you have held every position from being the newest ranker all the way up to being sub-marshal, and that will instill even greater confidence in them.” Shastylt smiled, more professionally than with personal warmth as he extended an enameled box, setting it on the edge of the desk before Dainyl. “Here are your stars, Submarshal.”

  “Thank you.” Dainyl bowed his head slightly. “I will do my best to live up to all the expectations and requirements of being your deputy.”

  “I am most certain you will. Tomorrow morning, you will be meeting with the Highest, one glass before noon, and he will be briefing you on certain critical aspects of your duties. These are matters of which only a few below the station of high alector are aware. We also will be promoting Majer Dhenyr to colonel to take over your previous position here at headquarters. As you may recall, he’s been in charge of Fifth Company in Dereka.”

  “I’ve read more than a few of his reports,” Dainyl admitted. “I must admit that the last one I read worried me greatly.”

  “About the missing skylances?” Shastylt nodded. “That has worried all of us. The lances are essentially worthless without a pteridon, but how they were taken is more than a little vexing. The majer and the senior regional alector have questioned everyone who could possibly have been near the pteridon squares there, but so far have turned up nothing. There have been more than a few matters like that recently, and once this business in Dramuria is wound up, you may have to undertake a more thorough investigation of some of them.”

  “I have heard that five alectors vanished in Dereka. Is that so, and part of the problem there?”

  “It is, but I cannot say more until after you meet with the Highest.” The marshal looked directly and intently at Dainyl. “I would be curious to know what happened to Ma-jer Vaclyn to cause him to lose such control. If you can explain, that is.”

  “Yes, sir. No one can look into the mind of a dead man, but there were subtle indications of his… growing instability. He was an officer who did not have the ability to be promoted beyond majer. He was a competent company commander, but his grasp of greater tactics was limited. His captains have, over the years, quietly remedied his deficiencies. This is something far more easily done in operations against raiders than in the situation in Dramur—”

  “How so?”

  “In Dramur,” Dainyl replied, “there is not one group of insurgents, but several. There are smugglers, who wish to avoid Duarchial tariffs. There are the escaped miners who, for superstitious reasons associated with the vanished ancients, will often resort to near-suicidal tactics to escape the mines and attack the Cadmian guards. There are former smallholders, forced off their lands by the seltyrs and the larger growers. There was at least one seltyr who was so alarmed by these combined factors that he had assembled his own company armed with the contraband Cadmian rifles.” Dainyl paused. “Did you ever receive any reply, sir, to your inquiries about the source of those weapons?”

  “A reply, yes. One that was helpful… not really. The High Alector of Engineering sent an inquiry to Faitel and one to Alustre. More than a thousand rifles are missing from the reserve storeroom in Faitel, but no one seems to know how and when it happened.”

  Dainyl winced visibly, even though the number was really no surprise to him after his inspection flight over the west of Dramur. “That many?”

  Shastylt shook his head. “It could be more. There’s been no response from Alustre.”

  No response? When the contraband weapons had been reported weeks before, when the high alectors had access to Tables and Myrmidon couriers?

  “You look surprised, Submarshal.”

  “I’m less surprised by the numbers of weapons missing than I am by the lack of response and knowledge.” Dainyl was walking on the edge of a steep chasm. To charge a high alector with incompetence or worse was unwise, but not to show some concern and even indignation would raise the marshal’s suspicions.

  “Some of the high alectors do not grasp the severity of the challenges we face in the next few years, and we must tread lightly until they or their successors understand fully those challenges.”

  Dainyl nodded. “It is clear that you are dealing with a most delicate situation, sir.”

  “As are you, Dainyl.” Shastylt smiled. “I would that I could have you delegate you oversight of the Dramur situation to someone else, but, at the moment, there is no one else. Majer Dhenyr will have his hands full taking over your duties, especially now, and it would not be feasible to bring either of the senior majers from Alustre. The Myrmidons have always had to cope with fewer officers than we might wish otherwise.” The marshal rose from behind the desk. “We will have to continue this discussion later. This afternoon, the Highest and I will be briefing the High Alector of Finance and the Duarch, but I did want to let you know of your promotion. It is effectively immediately. So you can put on the stars as soon as you have a moment. The Highest will be briefing you tomorrow; and then on Septi, we’ll talk again.”

  As the marshal had stood, so had Dainyl. He did reach out and take the black-enameled box that held the eight-pointed silver stars of a Submarshal. The marshal’s stars were gold and green-edged, of course. “I look forward to that, sir.”

  He managed a pleased smile before turning and leaving the marshal’s study.

  Once back in his own study, a space that he supposed he would be leaving before long for the larger study that had been Tyanylt’s, Dainyl sat down behind his desk, heavily. He was both surprised and alarmed by his promotion. Shastylt had as much as stated that some of the high alec-tors did not understand the coming crisis and would have to be replaced, and that the marshal and the Highest would be briefing the Duarch on something of great import. Dainyl was supposed to connect the two—but he doubted that such a connection was accurate.

  More than anything, he felt that his position was more precarious, rather than less—and he had yet to meet with the High Alector of Justice.

  63

  Dainyl walked up to the duty coach outside Myrmidon headquarters roughly a glass and a half before noon on Sexdi. The sky had cleared the night before, leaving the heavens a brilliant silver-green. The white sun shone brightly, but the air remained chill.

  “The Hall of Justice, sir?” asked the duty driver.

  “That’s right.” Dainyl offered a smile and then stepped into the coach.

  As the coach pulled away from the headquarters building, Dainyl sat back, thinking about what awaited him. The night before, he and Lystrana had discussed, quietly and in their bedchamber, what the marshal had told him. She had not been able to add any more understanding or information. What was obvious, so obvious that neither had to speak it, was that times were getting even more dangerous, especially since Dainyl was thought to have limited Talent and no ties to the Duarches, and no links to any of the High Alectors—except indirectly through Lystrana.

  Dainyl glanced out the coach window, his eyes taking in the Duarch’s palace to the right, the stone glowing in the sunlight, and then the gardens, gray and winter brown. Did the Duarch of Elcien know what the Highest and the marshal were doing? Dainyl and Lystrana doubted it, yet neit
her dared bring matters before the Duarch without some real proof—and they had none—not given the Talent-strength of the marshal and the High Alector of Justice.

  In less than a quarter glass, the coach pulled up outside of the Hall of Justice.

  “I’ll be waiting over at the concourse, sir,” said the driver.

  “I don’t imagine I’ll be that long.” With a nod, Dainyl turned and started up the steps.

  Coming down the wide golden marble steps were two lander women, followed by a graying man and woman. The thinner of the two younger women was punctuating her words with sobs and tears.

  “… he didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t. What difference did it make, adding a pinch of white lead to the wine here and there?… kept it from spoiling and tasted sweeter… the Highest wouldn’t change anything… what will we do? Gil’s dead, and they took the shop…”

  Dainyl concealed a wince as he passed the four. Not only did lead poison those who had too much, but it also decreased fertility among the indigens and landers, and that meant slower growth of high-level lifemass.

  No matter how often the schools taught that certain practices were not good for life, some landers and indigens would do them anyway if it brought a few extra silvers, or even coppers. And then they complained when justice fell on them, even when they had been warned.

  At the top of the outside steps, without looking back, he stepped between two of the goldenstone pillars and into the receiving rotunda, crossing the octagonal tiles of polished gold and green marble, with their inset eight-pointed stars, stars exactly the same shape as those he now wore on his tunic collar. He could hear the petitioners in the main Hall, even before he passed through the goldenstone pillars between the receiving rotunda and the Hall.

  The High Alector of Justice was not seated behind the podium of judgment, set directly before the Needle of the Duarches that soared upward through the high pink marble ceiling and well above the green exterior tiles of the roof. Rather, one of his assistants was, although Dainyl doubted that most of the petitioners would have noted the difference.