“In all the time we’ve been here, I’ve never seen more than three men working together in one place. With that many men out in the fields, there should have been some women.”
“Maybe you ought to be the overcaptain.”
Mykel wasn’t quite sure what to say. “It’s easy to say that afterward, but I’m sure you would have seen the same thing if you had been there. It wouldn’t have felt right. You might not have been able to say why it was wrong, but you would have known.”
A brief smile flitted across Dohark’s face. “You can go by feel as a captain. It’s harder when you can’t see what’s happening.” He looked at Mykel. “How many companies do you think the western seltyrs have?”
“I’d say that they had thirteen to start, and that the eastern seltyrs might have eleven.”
“Where did you come up with those numbers?”
Mykel shrugged. “It’s a guess. The captives we took yesterday morning said that every seltyr in the west had raised a company, except for one, and he had raised two. Seltyr Ubarjyr’s daughter—she’s a captive here—told me last night that there were twelve seltyrs in the east and twelve in the west. We wiped out Ubarjyr’s company. So… twenty-three or twenty-four.”
“You talked to her last night?”
“After we talked. I’ve been trying to find out things from her all along. Every so often she says something, and it goes with something else.”
“That’s one thing I like about you. Behind that agreeable face, you’re like a dog looking for a bone. You just keep sniffing around, and you don’t give up. What else have you learned?”
“Not much. She was the one that hinted that we might have trouble with the western seltyrs. She also intimated that there are companies here in the east.”
“We haven’t found any.”
“Would we, sir, after the raid on Stylan Estate?”
“It’d be unlikely, that’s certain,” admitted Dohark.
Silence stretched out in the study.
“I have a question, sir,” Mykel finally said.
“Do I want to hear it?” countered Dohark, with a flat laugh.
“Don’t you find it a little disturbing that all of the rebel companies raised by the seltyrs have unmarked Cadmian weapons and that the moment that the Myrmidon colonel leaves with his pteridons we get attacked?”
“I’d thought about that.” Dohark gestured around the study. “One reason why I took this over. I don’t think he’ll be back soon.” He paused. “With or without pteridons, we still have a mission. What do you suggest?”
“Find out as much as we can about where their companies are. Pick them off, one at a time. They’re no match for us if we choose where and how we fight.”
“How many good scouts do you have?”
“Four.”
Dohark nodded. “We’ll need them. If we’re going to choose where to fight and pick off these bluecoats, we’ll need to know where they are and where they can go.” After a moment, he looked squarely at Mykel. “Do you want to add the two squads—one full squad, really—from Thirteenth Company to Fifteenth Company?”
“I’d like the extra men, but it would cause more trouble. I’m sure they feel I set them up in Jyoha, and, in a way, I did. I didn’t think Vaclyn would be that stupid.”
“Most of Heransyr’s survivors are all right. You take them, then.”
“Thank you. We could use them.” -
“Go get your scouts and come back in a glass. We’ll assign areas to all the scouts then.”
“Yes, sir.” Mykel stepped back and headed for the study loor.
“She is pretty, Mykel,” Dohark said conversationally, ‘and useful. But I wouldn’t put her in a position where you lave to trust her.“
“Sir?”
“You know exactly who I mean.” Dohark’s voice carried a race of good humor. “The seltyr’s daughter. Just be careful.”
“I intend to be very careful, sir.”
“Good. Go round up your scouts.”
Mykel slipped out of the study and down the corridor to the entrance foyer. He wished he could be as dispassionate as Dohark about the possible betrayal of the Cadmians by sither the Myrmidons or other alectors. The overcaptain accepted that possibility and went on. Mykel was still trying to figure out why. And then there was Rachyla—an enigma—much like the ancient dagger in his belt, both beautiful, both able to cut deep, and perhaps… both deadly. i
He stepped out into the courtyard, where a light rain had begun to fall once more. If the rain continued, it might keep the bluecoats from trying to fire more cots or from attacking the Cadmians in the next day or so. Fifteenth Company could use the rest, and so could the others.
72
After two long days of flying, late on Novdi, just before the sun set behind the western horizon of the seemingly endless grasslands of Illegea, Quelyt called back over his shoulder, “There it is, sir!”
Dainyl looked eastward toward the Spine of Coras and what lay at the base of the red cliffs footing those snow-capped winter giants. The late afternoon light fell across the redstone spires of the Vault of the Ages, turning them a deeper and duskier shade, outlining them against the lighter stone and scattered trees of the peaks to the east. Directly below the columned entrance to the Vault were the wide stone steps that descended westward to the polished redstone plaza, empty so late in the day. In the still air just before twilight, a haze blanketed the lower areas of the hills to the east and north of the Vault.
“We’ll set down on the plaza, sir,” added Quelyt.
“Go ahead!” Dainyl had flown into the plaza himself, more than a few times, but he’d seen little of Lyterna, outside of the barracks tunneled into the cliffs to the south of the Vault, where he had waited as a ranker to carry dispatches to regional centers and other places without Tables. There was little visible from the air, or the ground—except for the great steps and the plaza—because the entire complex had been carved into the rock ages before.
Quelyt made a long and shallow approach across grasslands that remained tan and brown, without any traces of green, although all the winter snows had melted. Then, the long blue wings spread, and the pteridon flared and touched down gently on the plaza.
Once the pteridons had landed, and the three Myrmidons had dismounted, Dainyl took the saddlebags that held his gear and turned to Quelyt. “I doubt I’ll see you for a while. You have tomorrow off, and you’ll head back in the morning on Londi.”
“You don’t want us to wait, sir?”
“No. I’ll be here for a while. There’s no reason for you to wait.” That was true. Dainyl would be in Lyterna for a time, and, if he were successful in learning to use the Tables, he wouldn’t need a pteridon to return. If he weren’t successful, he wouldn’t need one, either.
“You certain, sir?”
“Very certain. Thank you.” Dainyl shouldered the saddle-bags and turned, crossing the fifty yards of the plaza between him and the great steps. As he climbed the steps toward the Vault, the wind picked up, whistling around him. Although Lyterna was south of Elcien, it was also higher and colder—much colder.
The Ifrit who greeted him at the top of the great steps had silver hair, yet his life-aura was clearly that of an alector, with the purple essence that was of Ifryn and always would be. “I’m Asulet, Submarshal Dainyl. High Alector Zelyert sent word to expect you.” An impish smile crossed the broad face. “I tutored your mother. Briefly. You don’t look at all like her.”
As Dainyl smiled wryly, the older alector laughed. “She had definite opinions.”
“She still does.”
“I imagine you’re hungry and a bit chilled.”
“Somewhat,” Dainyl admitted dryly.
Asulet turned and stepped through the wide-open space that matched the width of the great stairs and walked past | the first columns, toward a blank stone wall that parted as he neared. The stone panels were a good nine yards high and seven wide, but they moved quickly and silent
ly, retracting flush into the walls, so well fitted that Dainyl doubted a knife blade would fit between the stones. When open, no one could have guessed there were stone doors. Dainyl noted the deftness with which the elder alector had used his Talent to activate the portals.
Within moments after the two passed through the entrance, the stone doors closed behind them. Dainyl could feel the immediate and welcome warmth and dampness to the air within the chamber, more like summer in Lysia or Tylora.
Asulet stopped and gestured around the columned hall in which they stood. “For reasons I never quite grasped, the ‘ first lifemasters here decided to call this the Council Hall.” He laughed once more, again with an ease that Dainyl en-vied. “We never have had a council, nor any need for such, but then, maybe they knew what they were doing. It’s the smallest of the three great halls. The other two originally were used to house the first pteridons until we tunneled the barracks and squares to the south.”
Dainyl glanced around the space, modestly lit with light-torches set in wall brackets exactly three yards above the polished red eternastone floor. The hall was not exactly small, not at fifty yards in length and fifteen in width, with ceilings easily ten yards high. Like the floor, the walls and ceilings were of polished red eternastone. The redstone so treated did not reflect light, for all its apparent shine and shimmer.
“Your quarters will be in the upper quadrant,” Asulet went on as he resumed walking toward the square archway set in the middle of the back wall. “They’re quite spacious, with a private bath and accommodations. No windows, of course, but when they were built, there wasn’t anything to see, and the winter cold might well have shattered any glass.”
The floors, the light-torches, the walls—everything looked so crisp, so recently formed that it was hard for Dainyl to realize just how ancient Lyterna was.
“We will have dinner in a glass. That should give you some time to refresh yourself.” Just past the archway, Asulet touched a light-torch bracket on the right wall. Another stone door opened, revealing steps leading upward. “The upper level is far more comfortable.”
Dainyl followed the silver-haired alector up the staircase cut from the solid stone, a distance more than twice the height of a staircase in most structures. There was no portal at the top, and they stepped out into a circular foyer nine yards across. Three wide hallways radiated from the foyer. All were four yards wide and brightly lit with light-torches set at three-yard alternating intervals along the stone walls.
“The center corridor leads to the dining and common rooms, and the library,” Asulet explained. “Quarters for distinguished guests, such as you, are set along the far left corridor. Somewhat larger apartments for those of us who toil here are set along the right-hand corridor.” He turned down the left corridor. “Most of these are seldom used. We get very few guests for long these days, and it’s always good to see a new face.”
“Once an alector gets… a great deal of experience… is this where?”
Asulet laughed again. “Very few alectors age enough for it to show, but Lyterna is always available for those with, as you put it, experience who wish a quieter life. There is much we do not know about life here on Acorus, and there have never been enough minds and hands to properly study and catalog what is here, much less to mold additional useful life-forms.”
The older alector stopped at second door and turned the flat bronze lever, letting the door swing open. He gestured for Dainyl to enter.
Dainyl took two steps inside and surveyed the sitting room. On the right wall was a large mural-like painting, showing the grasslands to the west in spring green, with wildflowers blossoming, and a herd of antelope. Beneath the lifelike depiction was a settee, with the long legs and high back designed for alectors. On the wall directly before him was a wide and high white oak desk, with rounded edges, but clean and unornamented lines. The desk chair reminded Dainyl of the chairs in the chambers of the High Alector of Justice, without cushions or upholstery, but gently curved. On the wall above the desk was an oval painting of the High Court of Illustra, with the twin green towers that framed the palace of the Archon. On each side of each of the two paintings was a light-torch in a bronze holder.
The walls were of the redstone, but pale green hangings, like full-length drapes, ran from ceiling to floor on each side of the desk and on each side of the painting on the wall to Dainyl’s right. The floor was almost entirely covered by a large oval carpet of dark green, bordered in gold, and with a gold eight-pointed star of the Duarches in the center.
Asulet gestured toward the ceiling, pointing to the corners of the room. “The ventilation louvers have levers so that you can adjust them. The lever with the blue handle is for cold air, and the one with the red handle is for warm moist air. You can’t close them completely because there has to be some circulation, but you ought to be able to find a mix that’s comfortable.”
Dainyl glanced around the room before catching sight of the two narrow but wide air return ducts set just above the floor beyond the edges of the hangings on the wall he faced. “How do you get the warm moist air?”
“That was one reason why Lyterna was located here. There are boiling springs. We tapped them, for both hot water and heat. Be careful with the hot water for a bath or shower. It is very hot.” With a smile, Asulet stepped back into the corridor. “I’ll meet you in the foyer in a glass.”
After the older alector had headed back in the direction of the foyer, Dainyl closed the door. On the inside of the heavy oak door was a simple privacy bolt, no more. He turned and walked through the sitting room to the bedchamber, dominated by a triple-width bed with a plain white oak headboard and footboard. The coverlet was dark green. A white oak armoire two yards wide stood against one wall, far more space than Dainyl would ever use. With a smile, he set the saddlebags holding his gear on the rack beside the armoire.
On the polished white oak stand beside the bed was a mechanical glass, the circular face with its single hand. There were five marks between each of the ten triangles. Dainyl nodded. Without any sight of the sun, mechanical glasses were even more necessary, and far better than sand ones, which had to be turned every glass or measured against a gauge. Light-torches were set in wall brackets on each side of the headboard.
He moved through the open archway to the bath chamber, which held both shower and a deep redstone tub, coated with a clear enamel or glaze. Beyond to the right was a much smaller chamber with the other necessary facilities. Dainyl looked at the stone-walled shower and the white bronze fixtures. A truly hot shower would be more than welcome.
Almost a glass later, feeling warmer, refreshed, and definitely hungry, Dainyl stepped out of the guest chambers, wearing a clean uniform, and walked down the corridor toward the foyer.
Ahead of him was an older alector wearing a dark gray shirt and trousers—white-haired, and slightly bent. He was carrying folded linens. As he saw Dainyl, he stepped to one side and bowed. “Terribly sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right,” Dainyl replied, uncertain of how or why the old alector was supposed to have offended him.
The man bowed quickly once more, then hurried past Dainyl.
Dainyl reached the circular foyer, but saw no one there. He debated heading down the center corridor, but decided to wait. Each of the four curved sections of stone wall between the three corridors and the staircase held a mural. The geographic locale of each mural was that of the isle and city of Elcien. The first scene was just that of an isle, rocky in the center, low and marshy near the bay on the south, with scattered stunted trees. The second showed the arching bridge from the mainland and a grid of stone streets, with the Hall of Justice, and Palace of the Duarch, and but a handful of other structures. The third depicted an Elcien similar to the one Dainyl knew, if somehow subtly different. The fourth illustrated an Elcien where a soaring palace— identical to the depictions of the Archon’s Palace in Dlustra—rose between two green towers far taller than those that currently flanked the Duar
ch’s palace.
“You are most punctual,” observed Asulet, entering the foyer.
“I try.” Dainyl pointed to the third mural. “When was that drawn?”
“Oh… some five hundred years ago. They were all done then.”
“That one, it’s almost like Elcien today.”
“It was the plan for Elcien about a hundred years ago. It’s fairly close to what it is today. Matters often take longer than originally planned.” Asulet’s last words held an ironic dryness.
“The fourth one—that’s what’s planned?”
“If the master scepter is transferred here,” Asulet said. “The Archon has yet to decide. Let us go eat. We will talk of that, and of other matters of which you should know.” He turned.
Dainyl walked beside the older alector down the wide center corridor.
“I saw someone in gray…” Dainyl ventured, wondering if the rumors about old alectors were indeed true.
“Yes. The orderlies and servants. Various failures, heavily imprinted with loyalty bonds. Tragic, but it’s better than execution, and someone has to do the menial work, and it’s far better than letting landers or indigens know what lies behind the facade of the Vault.”
What did lie behind the facade of Lyterna? The Highest had intimated that much did, and now Asulet was telling him the same thing. The engineering alone, Dainyl had to admit, for what little he had seen in the past glass and a half, had to have been stupendous.
“You are beginning to wonder, are you not, Submarshal?”
“How could I not?” Dainyl managed a laugh. “I’ve already seen superb engineering and remarkable crafting, and I doubt that I’ve seen a fraction of what is here.”
“That is indeed so.” Asulet raised a hand toward the open square archway just ahead of them. “The dining chamber is the most ornate space in Lyterna, and it is also among the oldest finished rooms in the complex. The thought was that we should have something of elegance and grace when outside held little but lichens, stunted trees, and winter-cold swamps.” As Asulet finished speaking, he stepped through the wide square arch into a large circular chamber.
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