“Thoughts? I have more than enough of those. What I do not have is any solid indications.”
“Did you know that Brekylt is moving heavy road-building equipment to forestall weather damage in the Northern Pass?” asked Dainyl.
“I cannot say I am surprised. What will you do?”
“Try to reduce the resources under his control.”
“I assume you don’t intend to fight pteridons against pteridons. That would only increase his power.”
“I can’t do much if he suborns some of my commanders and turns them against us, but I’m not about to begin anything like that.”
“You already moved Seventh Company, and Eighth Company cannot be suborned,” observed the recorder. “I still don’t see how you persuaded Samist to appoint Lystrana RA here.”
Dainyl smiled. “I think, once Captain Fhentyl took over command of Fifth Company, and it became clear that Dereka Table would not suffer any mishaps, Samist hoped that I would be splitting my attentions and time.”
“That alone tells me that he’s a slender brace for Brekylt.”
“Unless…unless he is convinced that the ancients will strike here.”
“That’s why…?”
Dainyl nodded. He was only guessing, but little else made sense.
“I will keep my eyes and Talent looking, Marshal.” Jonyst glanced at the steps down to the Table. “You know where to find Guersa.”
“I do. Thank you.”
Dainyl picked up his bag and walked to the ramps that led down to the main entrance.
Guersa smiled when she saw Dainyl step out through the archway. He had no idea why he’d recalled her as a redhead, since she was a very blond lander, but perhaps it was the hint of freckles or the broad smile that had colored his recollection.
“Marshal, sir. To the RA’s quarters or the Myrmidons?”
“Tonight…the RA.”
Dainyl had no idea if Lystrana was actually in her quarters, he realized, as he entered the coach, but Jonyst would have known if she had left Dereka. Besides, Lystrana didn’t like the idea of using the Tables that much as her pregnancy advanced.
The coach pulled away from the ancient-built structure and turned south onto the main boulevard. It felt good to sit, even on the hard bench seat.
After less than a quarter glass, the coach drew up outside the quarters, a small separate wing behind the main building. When he stepped down onto the stone mounting block, Dainyl realized that while the main structure bordered an area low in lifeforce, although not dead as Jonyst had suggested, the quarters wing had been built in an area displaying no overt diminution of lifeforce.
“These are the RA’s quarters, sir.”
“You brought her here last week?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” Dainyl smiled and slipped her a gold. “My thanks for helping her when I could not.”
“Sir…you don’t…”
“It’s my pleasure, Guersa. Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Dainyl carried his small bag to the archway, where an iron grillwork door served as an additional protective measure for the heavy oak door behind it.
He tugged the bellpull.
Shortly, a lander girl opened the oak door, but not the grill. Her eyes widened as she took in Dainyl’s uniform. “Oh…you must be…the marshal…”
“Marshal Dainyl. I was hoping my wife might be here, although I didn’t have a chance to let her know I’d be arriving tonight.”
“Please come in…sir. She said you were welcome anytime. She is dining with…some of her staff in the…I’ll tell her.” She turned a heavy lever and the grillwork lock clicked open.
Dainyl stepped into the foyer and waited for her to relock both doors. He stood in the foyer while she scurried off, taking the white-walled corridor through the right archway.
Lystrana appeared, wearing a pale but rich blue shirt, accented with a lighter green vest and matching trousers. The garments were loose, because even from across the foyer Dainyl could sense the strengthening but not yet separate lifeforce that was their daughter.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, they were in each other’s arms, a tangled mass of emotions with the need to reassure themselves that the other was indeed there.
Lystrana broke away, with a smile. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since breakfast.”
“Then come and join us. You can leave your bag here. Jylena will take care of it. We’ve just been served, and there’s plenty, and I’m certain that Garatyl and Dyena will be honored to dine with the Marshal of Myrmidons.”
“I could use something to eat.” Dainyl grinned, setting his bag on the small carved bench on the left side of the foyer.
“Would you like to wash up? There’s a guest facility right here. It’s closer.”
Dainyl took advantage of the offer, vaguely bemused by the green marble sink and facilities.
Lystrana was still waiting when he emerged.
He offered his arm, and she took it, guiding him down the corridor to the first archway.
“How much should I tell them?” he asked in a low voice.
“No more than you’d tell Zelyert. They should know that.”
The dining room was large, a good ten yards in length and close to eight in width, with a nutwood table, so dark it was almost black, and polished so that it reflected the light from the brass wall lamps. The floor was goldenstone, also polished to a gloss. The table was now set for four at one end, two across. One of the settings was untouched.
Both younger alectors were standing. Garatyl was slender, painfully thin for an alector, and was half a head shorter than Dainyl. Dyena was taller, not quite Lystrana’s height, and muscular. Her eyes were golden-flecked violet, and her aura was a slightly deeper purple that suggested she might have been translated to Acorus while her mother was still carrying her unborn.
“Dyena, Garatyl, my husband, Marshal Dainyl.”
Both bowed.
“We’re honored,” offered Dyena, her words echoed by Garatyl.
“I apologize for disturbing the meal. Please sit down.” Dainyl stood for a moment, allowing Lystrana to seat herself. It was her honor, and position, as the RA.
The hint of a smile crossed her lips, and one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly as Dainyl slipped into the seat at one side of the table, across from Lystrana and with Dyena to his right.
Lystrana lifted her goblet, bearing only cider, Dainyl sensed. “To your safe arrival, dearest.”
Dainyl lifted his goblet in return. “To yours as well, if belatedly.”
All four took sips. Dainyl did not recognize the pale amber wine, save that it was the best he had tasted in weeks.
“I had hoped you would be able to come to Dereka before too long,” Lystrana said, “but I had no idea how long the difficulty in Blackstear might last.”
“It wasn’t the difficulty in Blackstear that delayed me so much as what happened after that in Soupat. Two companies of Myrmidons from Ifryn—or their survivors—assaulted the Table there…” In between bites of his dinner, Dainyl gave a cursory description of what had happened, although he did include a mention of the lightcannon and the damage it could have created. As he spoke, Dainyl realized that most of the foot Myrmidons had to have been already involved in the two attempts. That meant that order on Ifryn was already close to gone, and that it couldn’t be that long before the Master Scepter was transferred. He should have realized that sooner, but he’d been so tied up with details…or was it because he hadn’t really wanted to accept that Ifryn was truly dying?
Both the younger alectors had to concentrate to keep from displaying a combination of astonishment and disbelief.
“I have the feeling,” Lystrana said dryly, “that the actual circumstances were worse. I don’t believe you mentioned losses.”
“Six Myrmidons and pteridons from our forces. Somewhere over a hundred on their side, almost all of that from backla
sh from the explosion of the lightcannon.”
“But…why?” asked Garatyl.
Dainyl looked to Lystrana, wondering if it would be better if she or if he explained.
She nodded to him.
“Ifryn is dying. There are more alectors on Ifryn than Efra and Acorus can take, even combined. The more knowledgeable junior Myrmidon officers on Ifryn have come to realize that they will not be included in those allowed to make the long translations. Faced with certain death, they attempted to force their way here.”
“That…it can’t be,” protested Garatyl.
Dainyl had forgotten how sheltered some of the younger alectors were.
Dyena looked hard at the other assistant. “Didn’t you believe Silyrt? About the Table guards? About all the shimmersilk garments that they carry away? Why is every Table heavily guarded?”
Garatyl shook his head. “But they must have known it would come to this. They must have. How could they not?”
“What makes you so certain that they didn’t know?” Lystrana’s voice was both cool and sympathetic. “Even Views of the Highest alludes to it, in talking about there being too many alectors over time.”
“That makes it worse.”
Dainyl agreed with that, but then, after Dramur, he’d seen that was how the High Alectors thought and acted.
Abruptly Garatyl turned his eyes to Dainyl. “Marshal, sir…?”
“You’d like to know how I could possibly kill all those innocent alectors?” Dainyl’s eyes fixed on the young alector. “My choices are limited. If too many alectors flee here, Acorus itself will die in a double handful of years, if not less. Some of the recorders have been allowing the best of the unauthorized refugees to remain and live. That’s charitable, but it has reduced the additional numbers that can be accepted from Ifryn. Also, the weapons they were using would have destroyed so much lifeforce that, within years, Acorus might die. I cannot be merciful to a few hundred, even a few thousand alectors, if it will doom Acorus and everyone now living here.”
“There must be…”
“I’ve discussed it at length with the senior lifeforce alector in Lyterna and with the Duarch of Elcien, as well as with the knowledgeable recorders. None of them see any alternatives. Neither do I.” After a silence that continued to grow, Dainyl cleared his throat. “I must apologize for being so blunt.”
“You might also consider, Garatyl,” Lystrana added, “that Dainyl has been marshal for less than a season, and submarshal for less than a year before that. He had no knowledge of what was planned, nor any way to affect it. As a matter of fact, neither did the Duarches. What was planned was determined by the Archon in Illustra centuries ago. All we can do is manage the situation as we can.”
“It’s…horrible.”
“We can all agree on that,” Lystrana said. “Will you refuse to have children so that, thousands of years from now, this will not happen again? Or…who will you order not to have children? On what grounds? How will you punish those who have too many children? And if you do not, how well will you sleep, knowing that each additional child shortens the time before what you are hearing about happens again?”
Garatyl looked haplessly from the RA to the marshal, and then to Dyena. Finally, he just shook his head.
“I think we should defer any more discussion on this until tomorrow,” Lystrana said. “It’s best if you have some time to think it over.”
Dyena nodded strongly.
“I’m sorry…,” Dainyl mouthed silently to Lystrana.
“Don’t be,” she said quietly.
Garatyl merely looked bewildered, while Dyena covered a brief but knowing smile with her napkin.
“Now…,” declared Lystrana, “it’s time for you two to talk. Dyena…where did you grow up?”
“I was born here in Dereka, only three months after my mother translated here from Ifryn…”
Dainyl took a larger swallow of wine than he should have, far larger, as he sat back to listen to what the two assistants had to say.
The remainder of dinner was far more cheerful, if forced at first.
Two glasses later, Dainyl sat on the edge of the triple-width bed. “I’m sorry about dinner. One thing led to another.”
“I told you not to be sorry. Garatyl is the youngest and newest assistant. He has to understand how the world is, not how he thought it was. How else will he learn?”
“He didn’t seem to understand how much lifeforce a lightcannon consumes. It’s terrifying, and so is the fact that Brekylt and Rhelyn seem willing to use them. I have nightmares about it.” Dainyl looked at Lystrana in her nightgown, her figure clearly showing her advancing pregnancy.
“How could you not?” she said, drawing back the covers. “I do. I was so happy when Kytrana was conceived. Now, there are times when I wonder if…”
“Don’t even mention something like that. All people go through hard times.”
“Not like facing the death of a world and asking how and why we are fortunate enough to survive and they are not. Not like killing people so that others will live, or knowing that if you do not, none will survive.”
Dainyl slipped under the covers, putting his arms around her.
She was even colder than he felt.
61
Getting up the next morning was difficult, perhaps because the time was effectively two glasses earlier for Dainyl. On the other hand, he consoled himself, he could talk to Lystrana over breakfast and not hurry off. Unlike their house in Elcien, the quarters did not have a sun porch or a courtyard, and the breakfast room was a modest nook off the kitchen with but a pair of high windows that offered no view. Even so, as he sat down across from her, he could see that the sky was gray, and threatening snow or an icy rain.
Lystrana held a mug of steaming cider up to her chin, inhaling the warm vapor. She studied him. “You still have that greenish Talent aura about you. It’s faint, but it’s still there.”
“It is?” Dainyl hadn’t thought about it in weeks.
“Someone would have to get close to you.” She smiled fondly. “Far closer than I’d appreciate. I don’t think it’s going away, or not anytime soon.”
“All because of Rhelyn.” He shook his head. The ancient’s weapon had started it, but his own contacts with the ancients hadn’t helped any—except, without them, he’d likely have been dead. Still, there wasn’t anything he could do about it, and so long as it remained faint…
After a moment, he asked, “How have things been going here?”
“Very quiet. There was a backlog of decisions on land use, and I probably didn’t make anyone very happy.”
“Oh?”
“I limited additional croplands to those who wanted to build extensions to the aqueducts and to those who could prove that their water usage would not deprive anyone else of water.”
“Doesn’t that reward those with golds?”
“Absolutely. But it also requires them to spend them. The others didn’t want to spend a copper but wanted the water. Nothing that creates crops or lifeforce is free.” Her lips curled into a gently humorous smile. “I believe you made that point last night.”
“Young Garatyl was appalled.”
“At his age, he should be. It’s hard to teach concern when people are older.”
“You know I don’t like what I did at Soupat…but they were trying to send hundreds of alectors here.” He poured a mug of ale. His stomach was slightly unsettled, as it was more days than not in the morning. After a small swallow, he went on, looking to the archway and lowering his voice. “Maybe the ancients are right. Maybe we should look into changing how we link to Acorus. Wouldn’t that reduce the lifeforce needs? Wouldn’t it prevent or at least delay what’s happening on Ifryn?”
“I don’t know.” Lystrana frowned. “There must be some reason why it hasn’t been tried.”
“Asulet said it was possible, but that anyone who tried it would end up as little more than a Talented lander.” Dainyl shook his head. “A
nd that one early alector tried it and wanted to change back and couldn’t…and ended up as a wild translation.” He paused, thinking. Majer Mykel was a Talented lander, as Talented as many alectors, and he did not require the kind of lifeforce draw that an alector did. But then, he would die within sixty or eighty years, a mere fraction of an alector’s life span.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Oh, it didn’t happen that way, according to Asulet. He couldn’t change back here, and he tried a long translation to Ifryn and ended up wild.”
“I’m certain that’s what they told Asulet,” Lystrana said.
“Oh…of course. Any lander showing up on a Table in Ifryn would be destroyed before he could explain.”
Dainyl took another sip of ale. Assuming Asulet was correct, and alectors could link to Acorus directly, and not through the Master Scepter, but the cost was a shorter personal life span. Just what was a longer life span for a few alectors worth, compared to all the other lives, and the death of a world?
“What are you thinking?”
“About choices. About the costs of what we have.” Yet…what could he do? He couldn’t force all the other alectors to link directly to Acorus—even if he knew how. And that would only turn them all into landers, and more alectors would arrive from either Ifryn or Efra, once the Master Scepter was transferred.
“It’s not a choice we have, Dainyl. Even if it worked, we’d be Talented landers. How long would we last? What about Kytrana? Would you do that to her?”
He shook his head. “I’m not one for useless or empty gestures. But…how can I not think about it?”
She smiled sadly. “Knowing you, you can’t. But you can only do what you can. That’s all any of us can.”
“I suppose so.” He took a bite out of the omelet, not so tasty as those fixed by Zistele and Sentya. “Brekylt is moving heavy road equipment to repair possible damage to the Northern Pass.”
“Suitably modified, I trust,” replied Lystrana, taking another sip of her hot spiced cider. “Heavy weapons, in effect.”
“I’ve ordered Third and Fourth Companies here.” Dainyl shrugged. “I have no idea what Noryan will do.”
Soarer's Choice Page 34
