“Likely to get bloodier,” Mykel replied. “I worry about Seventeenth Company. They were supposed to be patrolling that road.”
“Maybe the westerners just avoided them.”
“With half a battalion? Be pretty hard to do that on such a narrow road.”
“Could have lured them north. Wasn’t there a message about that?”
“That was days ago.” It could have happened, but that was another reason why Fifteenth Company was riding back to the compound. The local Cadmians at the mine compound had walls and plenty of ammunition. Third Battalion’s companies were scattered across all of eastern Dra-mur, without that much ammunition, little warning, and no walls.
Less than a vingt south of the battle site, Mykel began to smell the smoke—thick and acrid. Through the growing dusk that was almost night, he could see reddish embers ahead. Only because the wind was at his back had they not smelled the odors of burning cots and huts.
He turned. “Bhoral! Get those prisoners and their guards up front here. Right now!”
Even before he had finished the order, Mykel could feel the unasked question and answered, “They burned people’s huts and stables. I want whoever’s around to know that they didn’t all get away. Bring them up right behind the outriders and me—with the rankers guarding them.”
“Yes, sir.” Bhoral turned his mount and rode toward the rear of the column. “Prisoners forward! Captain’s orders! Quick as you can.”
Before that long, the eight surviving captives lurched along in their saddles behind Mykel and the outriders. Even under the cloud cover, the night didn’t seem all that dark to Mykel as they neared the rows of burning cots and barns ahead. He could see figures trying to salvage goods, struggling to tie up animals that had escaped.
“Riders!” called someone.
“Cadmians! Headed back with captives!” Mykel called back.
The first person he saw was a graying woman. She knelt by an open gate between two stone pillars, then looked up from an animal—a dog that had been shot—toward the oncoming riders. Then her eyes took in the captives in blue, and she sprang to her feet. She took one step forward before a wiry man appeared and laid a hand on her arm. Both watched silently as Mykel rode past. He listened as he rode past them and the smoldering remains of the cots and huts.
“… Cadmians… didn’t stop them…”
“… killed a lot of ‘em… captured some… you saw…”
“… won’t rebuild my cot and barn…”
The raiders had fired close to a score of dwellings and outbuildings, but they hadn’t fired anything else along the road. Mykel had to wonder what they had done in two days.
When he finally turned his mount off the mine road and onto the spur road leading to the compound, through a break in the clouds he could see the small green disc of Asterta. “Warrior goddess,” he murmured under his breath, “we did you proud today. Lots of bodies.” Not that he be-lieved that the smaller moon was a goddess, but it helped to vent some of his frustration.
The compound gates were open, but there was a full squad of local Cadmians stationed in the towers and just outside.
“Fifteenth Company!” Mykel called. “Returning with captives for resupply.”
“Hold there!”
“Send someone out and check, and make it quick!” snapped Mykel. “We’ve got wounded men and captives, and it’s been a long ride.”
A squad leader and two rankers advanced gingerly, holding rifles.
Mykel snorted. “If we’d meant trouble, you’d all be dead, and we’d already be inside the gates. If you’d stand aside…”
The squad leader looked up at Mykel. He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Mykel heard more low comments as he rode through the gates.
“… captives… westerners…”
“… knew they were up to no good…”
If everyone knew that, Mykel reflected, why hadn’t anyone told them? Then, Rachyla had, in a way. He wondered if she were still all right.
The sound of hoofs on stone echoed through the night. There were few words between the Cadmians, a sign that most were exhausted.
As they neared the stables, Mykel turned to Bhoral. “Have Alendyr and second squad take the captives over to the prisoner’s barracks. We’ll let the locals sort that out.”
“Good idea, sir.”
Mykel hadn’t even dismounted when a ranker hurried through the darkness toward Fifteenth Company, stopping short of the column. “Captain Mykel, sir? Are you there?”
Mykel could see the ranker plainly. Why couldn’t the man see him? “Right here.”
The ranker turned. “Sir. The overcaptain would like to see you right now.”
Mykel glanced toward Bhoral. “More calls of duty. I’ll check back with you. Make sure that all the men get their weapons cleaned and they get washed up before they sack out.”
Bhoral chuckled. “They’ll love that.”
“Tell them I’m meeting with the overcaptain, and that I’ll be in a piss-poor mood by the time he gets through with me. Tell them whatever you have to…” Mykel dismounted, handing the chestnut’s reins to Fioryt, the closest Cadmian.
He followed the messenger through the darkness of the courtyard to headquarters. One thing was certain—his night vision hadn’t suffered. Everything else had, though.
Dohark sat behind the desk in the study that had been Majer Herryf’s. Before him was a large map. He looked up tiredly as Mykel stepped through the doorway, then gestured. “Close the door. Might as well use this study. Colonel’s gone, and Herryf’s not real helpful.”
Mykel shut the door, then stepped toward the desk and slumped into a chair across from the battalion commander. Dohark looked more tired than Mykel felt.
“You look like shit, Mykel,” offered the overcaptain.
“So do you, sir.”
“Tell me why you’re here, when your station is at the mine.”
“Two rebel companies attacked the mine compound last night. We drove them off, killed more than thirty. This morning we found a squad spying on us, and we killed something like eighteen of them—”
“I got your reports and the prisoners. They didn’t seem to know much.”
“No one does.” Mykel stifled a yawn. He was tired. “We interrogated the captives, enough to learn where they were going to rejoin their captain. We set up an ambush. Pretty much wiped out one of the companies. At least, we left seventy bodies on the road. We brought back the rifles and ammunition, and some extra mounts. All the rifles are new Cadmian pieces. My scouts found at least three more companies to the west of the mine road, maybe four. They were riding west. I didn’t bother with bodies when I could have been outnumbered five to one. I also thought you ought to know.”
“Five to one?”
“Four and one makes five,” Mykel said. “There might be more. We didn’t finish up until close to dark. Oh… the western bluecoats burned a score of cots north of Dramuria.”
“I got word on that when we got here earlier tonight. We got tied up with snipers on the smuggling road. Didn’t lose many men, just three, captured a small boatload of ammunition last night. Five cases. Then we started south. It’s a long ride back here. It’s a long ride anywhere on this frig-gin‘ island.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much of your company do you have left—that can fight?”
“A little less than fourscore. Some of my earlier wounded might be well enough in another week or so to rejoin the company.” Mykel paused, then asked, “Have you heard anything from Seventeenth Company?”
“No. Have you?”
“No. That’s why I asked. They were supposed to be patrolling the west road. When I found out there were five-odd companies that came down the road…”
“Could be Heransyr had enough sense not to engage them.”
“It could be,” Mykel agreed politely.
“You don’t think so.”
“I don’t know. The other thing th
at really bothers me is that these bluecoats can’t fight. Why are they sending them over here to get killed?”
“Maybe they didn’t know they couldn’t fight,” Dohark said quietly.
Mykel sat there for a moment. He’d never considered that possibility.
“They can get reinforcements. We can’t,” Dohark pointed out. “Not for a long while, anyway. We’ll have to scout the western road and protect Dramuria. I’ve called . Sixteenth Company in from the north. They should be here tomorrow. I’ll also be suggesting to Majer Herryf that he either station both Cadmian companies at the mine or pull everyone out.” Dohark laughed harshly. “He won’t. He might get by with it because the walls there are high and thick.”
Mykel nodded.
“As for you, Mykel. You look like shit. I’ll bet your men do, too, or you wouldn’t have brought them back. We can’t afford exhausted troopers, or captains. Get some sleep, and check in with me in the morning.”
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“The same goes for exhausted overcaptains, sir.”
Dohark laughed, briefly. “You get some sleep, and I’ll get some. Now… get out of here, so I can finish figuring out something, and we’ll both get to sleep sooner.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mykel eased out of the study, realizing that Dohark was using it because the Myrmidon colonel was gone—and because Dohark didn’t expect him back soon. He shook his head, then slipped out of the building and into the cool night air. He did not head for quarters, but to the officer’s cell that he hoped still held Rachyla.
The guards looked at him. One opened his mouth.
Mykel looked back, hard. “I won’t be long.”
“Ah… yes, sir.”
As always, they held their rifles ready as they unlocked the cell and let him enter.
Rachyla turned from the desk where she had been writing in the dim light of the lamp hung on the wall. She did not rise from the stool. “It’s rather presumptuous of you to come so late. What if I were asleep?”
“I would have left.”
She studied him before speaking. “You have blood all over your neck.”
“You were right.”
“What does that have to do with the blood. Have you been out slaughtering more helpless and untrained men?”
“Yes. We ambushed two companies of bluecoats after they had burned out cots and dwellings north of Dramuria.”
“After? How brave of you.”
“We’d fought our way out of one ambush the night before. That was where your equally noble bluecoats tried to massacre the mine prisoners.” Mykel managed, somehow, to keep a dry tone to his words, rather than the anger he felt. “We’d already fought another skirmish earlier in the day. In the last fight, since we were outnumbered more than two to one, we were the ones to spring the ambush. And no, I don’t feel good about it. But… you were right. They were all from the west.”
“And they wounded you.”
Mykel laughed, ironically. “No. They didn’t. Someone hit a tree beside me, I was hit by a big splinter. I pulled it out. I didn’t even know I was bleeding.”
For a moment, she was silent.
“How many large or powerful seltyrs are there west of the mountains?” he asked.
Rachyla cocked her head, then said, “Twelve. There are only twelve of the west, as there are only… were only twelve of the east. Some of the growers in the west hold more land than some of the seltyrs in the east, but they are not seltyrs.”
“Thank you.” Mykel forced himself to breathe easily.
“Why did you say I was right?”
“You said—you hinted, rather—that the seltyrs of the west might be a problem. They are. There are at least four companies east of the mountains.”
“So… you will kill them all, too.”
Mykel wanted to break through her composure, almost to scream at her that she didn’t understand, that he didn’t like slaughter, didn’t want to kill so many men. “Perhaps.”
“If you do not, the Myrmidons will.”
“The Myrmidons have left,” Mykel said. “Didn’t you know?”
Strangely, Rachyla laughed, softly and musically. It was anything but a happy sound. “You, too, have been betrayed.”
Mykel understood exactly what she meant. Was the whole campaign really just meant to destroy Third Battalion? Were the Cadmians being scattered across Coras so that they could be destroyed piecemeal? Or was there any explanation? Would it be any better?
“You see, Captain?” She stood. “You need sleep. I have nothing more to say. Good night.”
They faced each other for several moments.
Finally, Mykel said, “Good night, Lady Rachyla.”
He rapped on the door and left without saying a word to the guards. Whether he was right or not, there was no way that the seltyrs could have gotten so many Cadmian weapons without some alectors supporting them. While the seltyrs saw more clearly than other landers that the world ran on force, their mistake had been that they’d thought that the alectors would respect force, rather than crash it. The rest of Corus accepted what was—mostly, anyway—and that was that there was no practical way to use force against the alectors and their Myrmidons—or even against the Cadmians. Because of its comparative isolation, or for some other reason, the seltyrs and those who controlled Dramur hadn’t learned that lesson. Mykel wasn’t particu-larly happy being the one to administer it. What was happening in Dramur should have been obvious to him much earlier, but it just wasn’t the sort of thing that a Cadmian captain would expect. What else was likely to happen that he didn’t expect?
Mykel walked back toward the stables. He needed to find his gear. He needed to check his own weapon. He needed to get washed up and get rid of the blood. And he needed sleep.
70
What then is the role of belief for an alector in these times and those to come?
Understanding the hold that belief lays upon the undis-cerning is the first step. There are beings who discern and those who do not. Those who discern are, in the normal course of events, of the alectors, although we must admit that not all alectors are as discerning as they should be, and some discern not at all. Likewise, not all people of the lands are undiscerning, and, as will be discussed later, those of the lands who are discerning are most dangerous and must be handled with the greatest of care.
Whether alectors or peoples of the lands, those who do not discern are but the highest of the animals. Because they are like unto the cattle of the fields and the sheep in the meadows, a discerning alector’s role is to care for them. They must be fed, and they must be kept happy and healthy. They must also come to understand that not all their desires can be satisfied, and therein lies the role of justice and discipline, for, as in the case of animals, one cannot appeal to the reason of an undiscerning individual, for one such has no true ability to reason. Rather, such an individual wants and feels, then uses a crude form of logic to rationalize those desires. The most dangerous are those who are skilled with the tools of logic and reason and yet have no true understanding of the universe that surrounds them, for they will use such logic to make themselves the center of their limited world, regardless of the cost to others—or to themselves.
Most important, because not all desires can be satisfied, an alector must also offer comfort to the undiscerning. One of those comforts is that of faith, the comfort of the irrational, the comfort of believing that a supreme being cares for each and every being who prays to this deity. An alector may claim, “But I care for those for whom I am responsible.” That should indeed be true, but the truth as such does not offer comfort to the undiscerning, for an alector is not seen as supreme being.
It matters not that an alector ensures that murderers are caught and punished, or that food is shared equitably so that none starve. It matters not that an alector provides justice and a land where the industrious prosper. The undiscerning will not praise the alector for such; they will claim that
all the benefits provided by the alectors are the “will of the deity.”
For these reasons, a truly wise alector will always align himself with the perceptions of the undiscerning. He will not claim credit for what he has done, but will remain modest, and assert that he was but carrying out the will of the deity, “the One Who Is,” or “the Almighty,” or whatever divine appellation the undiscerning of that time and place have adopted. By so positioning himself he will reduce unrest among those over whom he is placed to care, and thus minimize the use of force and applied justice.
Views of the Highest
Illustra
W.T. 1513
71
Novdi morning dawned as gray as Octdi evening had been, but with a sheen of rain across the stones of the compound’s courtyard. The rain had stopped falling even before Mykel ate, but the clouds remained. A cold raw wind blew out of the northeast as he walked from the officers’ mess toward headquarters. He managed a quiet burp and hoped his guts would settle. Fried fish, day after day, was wearing, and then some; but he understood why, when the nightwasps had made large herds of cattle impossible and when no one raised many hogs, although Mykel didn’t know quite why. There wasn’t much fruit either, except for the apple bananas.
Dohark was in the same position as when Mykel had left the night before, looking down at a map on the desk. Mykel saw that the overcaptain had even deeper circles under his eyes.
“Close the door.”
Mykel did. “What happened? Seventeenth Company?”
The overcaptain nodded. “The survivors came in late last night. All eight of them.”
Mykel winced. He’d feared that, but fearing and having those fears confirmed were two different mounts.
“Somehow, Heransyr let his company get strung out on a lane running through a valley. According to the scout, it looked peaceful. Men tilling fields, repairing stone fences. Then a squad of those bluecoats rode in on the other side of the valley, and began shooting. People were falling like rain—”
“It was a trap,” Mykel said. “They were pretending to fall.”
Dohark frowned. “You know that now. How would you have known it then?”
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