Dainyl slipped to the left toward the pillar on the south side that held the hidden entrance to the chambers below. While the entrance was on the side away from the podium and petitioners, as always, Dainyl used his Talent to conceal his opening the concealed entry.
After stepping through the square stone archway, and making sure it closed behind him, he released the Talent-illusion and made his way down the light-torch-illuminated stairway to the lower level and warmer air. He followed the stone-walled hallway to the Highest’s chambers.
Even before he reached the door, a deep voice boomed out, “Please come in, Submarshal.”
This time the Highest wore a tunic of deep purple, trimmed in brilliant green. The purple created a greater impression of gravity. Did the High Alector wear the purple when meeting with either of the Duarches?
Dainyl inclined his head, murmuring the ritual phrase, “Highest, I am here to serve.”
“That you are.” The High Alector of Justice motioned for Dainyl to follow him. Without saying more, the senior alec-I tor turned and walked through an open archway. I Dainyl followed and found himself in a smaller sitting room, also windowless, but lit by enough crystal light-torches that the chamber was more than comfortable.
The Highest seated himself in a curved oak chair without upholstery. Dainyl took the matching chair on the other side of the small ebony table. Despite the hardness of the wood, the chair’s graceful curves were far more comfortable than many padded chairs in which Dainyl had found himself. He waited for the Highest to speak.
Several moments passed, and Dainyl could sense the use of Talent to scan him. As he had practiced with Lystrana, he did not react, but merely maintained his shields.
“Your shields improve every year, Dainyl.”
“I keep practicing, Highest.”
“ ‘Sir’ will do, Dainyl.” A half-humorous smile followed the words, then a pause, before the High Alector continued. “I must admit that the timing of events, even of your promotion, is less than optimal.”
“I certainly didn’t plan things that way, Highest,” Dainyl said politely.
“I doubt anyone could have been that farsighted, even your lovely wife.”
“She is quite farsighted, but neither she nor I anticipated a promotion at this time.” Earlier, or not at all, had been Dainyl’s own judgment.
“As Marshal Shastylt doubtless revealed, matters on Acorus are not as we would wish.”
“He did suggest that, sir.”
“Knowing him, he was circumspect. They may be worse than that. None of these difficulties would be especially troublesome by itself. The problems with the iron and coal mines in Iron Stem would be workable. A wild lander Talent in the rugged hills west of Hyalt would require no more than a battalion of Cadmians and a squad of Myrmidons. Grassland nomads have decided to raid merchant convoys on the upper steppe highway between Ongelya, and they hide in the high grasses so that pteri-dons are of little use—unless we were to burn the grass, and that just would make the lifemass situation less favorable. So another battalion must go there. There is your problem of what appear to be dual revolts in Dramur. There are unforeseen difficulties in Dereka—but I will not burden you with all of those. The marshal is dealing with Iron Stem and Hyalt, and, once you finish what you must here and in Lyterna, you will handle the difficulties in Dramur.”
In Lyterna? What was he supposed to do in Lyterna? Dainyl decided against asking, for the moment. He was also concerned, because the Highest had not been quite truthful about the difficulties, but exactly how, Dainyl could not have said, only that the Talent-sense surrounding those words of the Highest had left him feeling most uneasy.
“Before we deal with Lyterna,” the Highest went on, “there are some basic matters of knowledge that are not widely known. I will go through these quickly. Some you may have deduced, but I would be surprised if you know them all.” He paused.
Dainyl nodded, waiting.
“For all practical purposes, the pteridons are nearly indestructible, as you may know. What you may not know is that their numbers are fixed. Once the Dual Scepters have been placed on a world, pteridons as you know them can no longer be created…”
Dual Scepters? What Dual Scepters? Should he ask? Would Lystrana know?
“… Upon occasion, wild translations may manifest themselves as feral and near-brainless pteridons or as other wild Talent-creatures, but they are short-lived and unusable. In the history of all Ifrit worlds, only a handful of pteridons have been destroyed, that is, until the lifeforce of the world on which they have been created itself fails. This does not wean that a pteridon cannot be destroyed, only that no one in recent eras has done so. It is possible. I will not tell you how. It is sufficient for you to know that such destruction is both possible and unlikely…”
Dainyl had not known what the Highest had just told him, but after his years as a Myrmidon, he could not have said that he was surprised.
“Second is the matter of Talented landers. As you should know, no lander who has displayed the ability to employ Talent can be allowed to live. What you likely do not know is that landers were designed and bred as more, shall we say, creative versions of indigens when it became apparent that the indigens were not multiplying world lifeforce mass quickly enough. What the designers did not realize until far later was that the creativity traits also allow the possibility of Talent, and that certain landers have demonstrated the potential to be highly Talented. Thus, they must be destroyed, and quickly, once discovered. This policy is never to be revealed or discussed with anyone besides a high alec-tor, or the marshal. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That is a matter of survival. Landers breed more rapidly and in far greater numbers, and they would exhaust the world’s lifeforce all too quickly.”
“What about crossbreeds between landers and indigens?”
“The offspring could carry those traits,” the Highest replied. “We do not wish those traits to be spread. Talent may never surface in someone with the traits, and thus cannot be detected, Its emergence in landers cannot be predicted—except in those cases where both parents are Talented landers—and such an instance must never be allowed to occur.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Another related fact is that the so-called ancients are not all dead.”
“Sir?” Dainyl hoped he counterfeited enough surprise.
“They are a dying race, among the last remnants of the life-forms fully native to Acorus. They are seldom encoun-tered or seen, but they have a form of Talent, and they can be dangerous, according to the reports in the sealed archives. I have never seen one, but most of my predecessors have…”
Dainyl had the sense and feeling that the highest was skirting the truth about the ancients, if not outright dissembling.
“They prefer high and chill locations, and we believe that a small community lives somewhere on the Aerial Plateau.”
“That’s too high for pteridons.” It would be uncomfortable, reflected Dainyl, if not close to impossible, for an alector to function well or for long in that cold and altitude.
“Exactly. Should the ancients become a problem, we do have a contingency plan for dealing with them. It would be extraordinarily wasteful of world lifeforce, but such a plan has been developed. If you encounter such an ancient, it is to be reported immediately.”
“Sir… I don’t know if Marshal Shastylt told you, but I have found a tunnel with an ancient archway on one of the peaks in Dramur. There were no tracks there…”
“The marshal did report that.” The High Alector smiled. “Their artifacts, like our eternastone and other preserved works, do not age. I have seen two of those tunnels with the amberstone arches myself, one in Deforya and one in the Spine of Coras near Passera.” He cleared his throat “The ancients can be most dangerous. Several alectors were killed in the early years after the seedings.”
“Do we know how they are dangerous?”
“According to the re
cords, they are accompanied by creatures that can suck the lifeforce from any living thing. They are supposed to be able to draw lifeforce themselves, but this has never been observed. Artifacts found in several places suggest that they are quite skilled. As a matter °f fact, our light-torches are based on one of then-designs…”
That was something else that Dainyl had not known.
“Now… there are other matters you will need instruction in, including the use of the Tables. For these, you will be flying to Lyterna on Octdi…”
“This Octdi?” Dainyl asked.
“I did say the timing was most inconvenient.” The High Alector’s voice contained a trace of irritation.
“I apologize, Highest. I was just thinking about the situation in Dramur.”
“That seems to have stabilized for the moment, and what you learn in Lyterna may also prove helpful when you return to Dramur.”
“Could you tell me what else I might be learning in Lyterna.”
The High Alector laughed, warmly and humorously. “If I could explain all that, you wouldn’t need to go. I won’t say more because I want you to learn from the senior alectors who have studied Acorus far longer than anyone else. You’ll find it both interesting and intriguing. That, I can assure you.”
After years of experience in the Myrmidons, Dainyl had come to distrust anything a superior described as interesting. That usually meant dangerous, difficult—or both.
The Highest rose. “Congratulations, and my best wishes go with you.”
Dainyl stood and bowed slightly in response. “Thank you.” What puzzled him more than slightly was that the Highest had sincerely meant his best wishes, unlike some of the other statements he had made, which had been tinged with the feeling of incompleteness, or outright dissembling. The combination suggested Dainyl was being set up to be used as a tool—again.
As he left the chambers of the High Alector of Justice, he just wished he had a better idea of what sort of tool he was and for what purpose he was being shaped and honed.
64
Mykel looked at the bread and cheese in front of him. The cheese was white, hard, and not quite rancid. The bread was stale enough that each bite sprayed crust crumbs. Beside them was a green apple banana. Nothing looked appetizing in the dawn of a Septi morning that was the last in winter, but very little food had looked appealing in recent days.
Mykel was worried. Not because anything had happened, but because nothing had. From the moment Fifteenth Company had started patrolling in Dramur, they had run into problems of one sort or another. Now, while the locals were no more friendly, no one seemed to pay any attention to the Cadmians, and no one had fired a shot at any of the squads in more than a week. People who had been shooting at Cadmians for months just didn’t stop for no reason. Mykel hadn’t gotten any answers from Captain Meryst, either, on his question about the crimes committed by prisoners who were missing. He doubted he would. Still, it had been worm a try.
His thoughts drifted back to Rachyla, as they often did. Was it just that he hadn’t seen an attractive woman in months? He shook his head. She was striking, but not a raving beauty. There was too much understanding, and too much confidence in those green eyes, for most men to be comfortable with her. Was that why he was drawn to her? He frowned. No. As he’d noted to himself before, there was something else, something that he still couldn’t identify, that worried at him even as it attracted him.
His lips curled into a faint smile. Maybe it was just that she was dangerous.
He looked down at his food. With a grimace, he peeled back the banana and took a bite. It was green, and- edible, if barely. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Captain Meryst enter the dining shed, look around, and head toward him. I Out of courtesy, Mykel stood.
“I’d hoped to find you before you left on patrol. I put in the inquiry along the lines you asked about.” Meryst inclined his head. “How did you know?”
Although Mykel had asked about the crimes committed by missing prisoners, he had no idea what the other captain meant. “How did I know what?”
“Almost all of the miners who disappeared in the mine, something like twenty-seven out of the thirty where the jus-ticer had records, were the violent types.”
“Sentenced for murder or beating someone up?” asked Mykel.
“Yes. How did you know?” asked Meryst.
“I didn’t. I wanted to know if there were any patterns as to why they vanished.”
“Almost looks like the other miners just took care of them,” suggested the local Cadmian captain. “They would have known.”
“It could be,” Mykel admitted. “Or it could be that the dangerous ones were the ones most likely to try anything to escape.”
“Either way”—Meryst offered a faint smile—“I’d be interested in your thoughts on it sometime.”
“I’ll have to give it some thought.” Mykel could sense that Meryst didn’t accept his explanations, but the other captain wasn’t going to press, not in the mess shed with rankers and squad leaders passing and listening.
After Meryst departed, Mykel reseated himself and looked at the remains of breakfast.
“It doesn’t get any better, sir,” called Dravadyl from an adjoining table.
“I could always hope,” Mykel retorted.
Several rankers—and Dravadyl—laughed.
When he finished stolidly slogging through the cheese and bread, Mykel rose and made his way to the stable shed, where he saddled the chestnut. He’d planned to ride the mine road patrol with Chyndylt and third squad. He walked the chestnut out into the cool sunlight, looking around for the third squad leader.
“Captain!” called Bhoral. “The overcaptain sent us near-on a full wagon of ammunition. There’s a dispatch for you with it.” The senior squad leader hurried across the dusty stable yard.
“A wagonful of ammunition?” Mykel took the dispatch from Bhoral’s extended hand.
“Must think we’ll need it up here.”
Mykel was afraid of that. He opened the dispatch envelope and began to read.
Captain Mykel—
Since you left Dramuria, a number of events that bear watching have occurred. Some of the seltyrs west of the Murian Mountains have been training armed horse troopers. In addition, we have just learned that a number of smugglers’ craft were sighted sailing around the south cape almost a week ago. The vessels appeared to be heavy-laden. Those vessels may be carrying more rifles and ammunition.
On several occasions, Seventeenth Company has reported heavy fire from the hills on both sides of the road to the west and, at my request, is repositioning closer to Dramuria. Because Fifteenth Company has often been involved in heavy action, I have dispatched an additional ammunition wagon for you. Use the utmost caution in any pursuit actions. Report by messenger if you encounter and observe any large bodies of foot or mounted troopers.
Mykel read through the short missive once again, nod-ling as he did before handing the dispatch to the senior quad leader. He waited for Bhoral to read it
After several moments, the older Cadmian looked up. Overcaptain’s worried, and he doesn’t worry easy-like.“
“Have all the men carry extra rounds on patrol, and find somewhere to put the wagon where it can be guarded. Pull some men from each squad for guards.”
“Six men, I’d think, sir. One from each squad, and two from third squad.”
Mykel grinned. “Because I’m riding with third?”
“It keeps the numbers equal, sir.” The hint of a smile ap- i peared at the corners of the senior squad leader’s mouth.
As he rode toward the ammunition wagon, Mykel glanced at the peaks to the west of the camp. Would there be an attack from the west? Was water wet? Did nightwasps sting?
Even after he drew the chestnut beside Chyndylt and waited for the remainder of third squad to form up, Mykel continued to fret, both about Dohark’s dispatch and about Meryst’s information.
Why would the rock-creatures or even the
soarers have wanted to feed on the most violent prisoners? He couldn’t escape the feeling the soarers had a way of knowing which men were dangerous, even if he had no idea how. The soarer’s words also echoed in his thoughts—You must find your talent to see beyond the world… He had no idea how to turn his talent for shooting better into a broader talent, or even where to start—as if he even had the time to do so.
His fingers moved to his belt, and the slit and hidden sheath that held the ancient knife. Had she found him in the rocks above the mine because he carried the knife, or had it been a coincidence? Did it matter?
“Third squad, ready, sir!” Chyndylt announced.
“Head out!” Mykel glanced back at the squad, then at the road ahead.
65
While he waited for the marshal on Septi, Dainyl moved his papers and gear to the study that had been Tyanylt’s. That took less than a glass, because Dainyl had never had many personal effects in his study and because everything that had been the former Submarshal’s had long since been removed. Then he went through the remainder of the reports that had piled up in his absence. For all the pages from the Myrmidon and Cadmian companies across Corus, there was surprisingly little new or detailed information.
An older report addressed one question. The closure of the Cadmian compound in Scien had been postponed until the coming spring when the snows ceased and the weather would be more suited to riding horses along the North Road to Pystra and south to Norda, where the existing compound was being enlarged to take another two companies. There still wasn’t any information on why the Scien compound was being closed or the companies relocated to Norda—or about the need for the earlier Myrmidon winter recon flights. The Twenty-third Cadmian Mounted Rifles from Alustre was being permanently relocated to Lysia. There was no explanation, except that the High Alector of Justice had ordered the move. Why Lysia? Although it was a seaport, it was another compound more than a little out of the way, well southeast of Prosp, and more than eight hundred vingts from Alustre by road.
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